Hunted

by DreamWvr73

Someone new comes to Smallville and Clark discovers that he's not the only one harboring a deep secret. By Dreamwvr73 & TwoTrails4860

"Man, that math class is a killer!"

Pete Ross exclaimed as he, Clark Kent and Chloe Sullivan walked towards the cafeteria in Smallville High. "I'm so hungry I could eat-"

"Cafeteria food?" Chloe quipped, eliciting a grin from Clark. Pete gave her a scowl. "This I get from a girl who lives on Biscotti and Starbucks coffee."

"Hey! How many reporters have healthy diets? Point out one and I'll hand over editorial duties of the Torch--" Chloe watched Pete roll his eyes and laughed as she pulled back the set of red double doors, giving them a bow.

"After you gentlemen-- and I use that term loosely--" She wrinkled her nose playfully at both Clark and Pete.

"I thought newspaper editors were supposed to be objective." Clark pointed out as they got into the hot food line.

"Call it a moment of post-feminist weakness--" Chloe stepped in behind them, wincing at the noisy crowd and the long lunch line. "Terrific, we're going to starve to death and turn to dust before we can even get sick over today's specials--" She shook her head as she spotted a lone figure sitting at a far table and nudged Clark with her elbow. "Hey check it out, Wall of Weird candidate at 10 o'clock."

Clark glanced in the direction Chloe was indicating and saw a petite sandy brown haired girl sitting at a corner table by herself, although the table itself could easily seat six people. She was bent over a large hardcover novel, an untouched sandwich sitting near her right hand. Long, straight hair hung to the middle of her back, and Clark caught a glimpse of large, expressive bluish-gray eyes as she glanced up at the clock on the wall. He frowned at Chloe.

"C'mon Chloe, just because she's sitting alone reading doesn't make her weird. You eat alone in the Torch office sometimes, don't you?"

Chloe scoffed, blinking. "Well yeah, sometimes I have to take my lunches in the office Clark, that's no secret--" She turned around and looked at the girl again. "But this girl gives a whole new meaning to the term wall flower."

Pete looked at the blond girl and shook his head. "You know I don't normally agree with Chloe, but she's right. She's been here for two days and no one even knows her name."

"Well . . . has anyone thought to ask her?" Clark asked as he paid for his lunch and picked up his tray. Instead of heading for their usual table, Clark veered off and walked directly towards the new girl.

"And there he goes--" Pete shook his head as he and Chloe paid for their lunches and followed him. 

"Yeah I know, Clark Kent, friend to all--" Chloe sighed as walked beside Pete.

Clark approached the girl and cleared his throat pointedly. "Hi," He said when she failed to look up. "Mind if I sit down?"

Closing her book, the girl raised her head. "Oh uh-- sure--" She meekly replied as she watched the tall dark haired boy sit down across from her.

"My name's Clark Kent, and these . . " He motioned to Pete and Chloe, "are my friends Pete Ross and Chloe Sullivan. You're new to the school, aren't you?"

"Yes, just transferred here--" She swallowed hard, feeling her face blush at the sudden attention. "I'm Caitlin Tollivar."

"So, what do you think of it so far?" Clark asked.

"It's very--"  Caitlin started.

"Unusual?" Chloe finished as she opened her milk. "You're not the first person that's come here to say that."

Caitlin nodded. "I'm just used to my old school I guess--"

Clark bit into his hamburger, reflecting that it was nowhere as good as his dad's barbeque. Between bites he snuck glances at Caitlin, noticing how petite and slender she was. Her light blue sweater and blue jeans clung to her body without being skin-tight, and Clark felt his face heat with a blush at the thought.

Pete glanced at him curiously, and Clark pretended to be suddenly very interested in his hamburger.

Chloe shot looks at both of the men before turning her attention back to Caitlin. "So Caitlin, you live around here?"

Caitlin cleared her throat. "Yes not too far, over on Anderson Lane."

"That's close to where I live." Clark said, giving Pete a warning glare.

"Oh it is?" Caitlin felt her face flush once again as she caught a glimpse of Clark's greenish-blue eyes. "I--I didn't know we were neighbors."

"Looks that way." Clark grinned, and resisted the urge to kick Pete under the table as his friend smiled knowingly.

Finally catching on to what was going on, Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Well yeah, maybe Caitlin can give you rides to school Clark, since you both live so close."  She looked across the table at Pete, seeing him trying to hide his snicker.

With friends like these . . . Clark thought, finishing his burger in several big bites and getting to his feet. "Well . . . it was nice to meet you." He managed, and escaped before his friends could tease him any further.

Caitlin watched Clark leave and turned to look at both Chloe and Pete.

"Guess he was in a hurry--" She finished her sandwich, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

"I better go get ready for class, it was nice meeting both of you--" She got to her feet, picking up her tray. "See you later--"

"Bye." Pete called after her, and turned to Chloe. "Think we went too far?" He asked.

"Don't we always?" Chloe laughed before pushing her tray her smile fading. "Seriously though, Clark hasn't been himself since he got back from Metropolis. He's pushed all of us away, even Lana. He seems interested in this girl--maybe she'll help Clark in ways that we can't."

Pete thought briefly of Clark's incredible powers and shook his head a little. It'd take a real special girl to help Clark Kent, He thought.

He watched Clark walk out of the cafeteria doors and got up. "I'm going after him Chloe, I'll catch you later."

"Later--" Chloe raised her hand to Pete as he jogged out of the cafeteria.

"Yo Clark! Wait up!" He called out as he saw his best friend keep walking. "Clark!"

Clark came to a halt but didn't turn around. "Haven't you and Chloe had your fun for the day, Pete?" He asked, exasperated. His tone told Pete he wasn't truly angry, so Pete gave him a nudge in the ribs.

"Aw come on man, you know we were just joshing you--" Clark still didn't turn around and Pete cleared his throat. "Caitlin seems nice Clark."

Clark finally turned to face his friend. "Yeah. She does, and I was trying to be nice in return! What's wrong with that?" He asked defensively.

"There's nothing wrong with that--" Pete started to say something but then stopped. He thought about it for a moment and opened his mouth again. "It's just that-- ever since you came back from Metropolis you've been distant. Today Chloe and me got a glimpse of the old Clark and I guess we just got carried away. We didn't mean to tease you like that."

Clark's usual, easy grin finally resurfaced and he clapped Pete on the shoulder. "I know." He admitted finally. "I shouldn't be so touchy." He rolled his eyes in sheepish admission. "Okay . . . so Caitlin's pretty. Don't tell me you didn't notice!"

Pete scoffed, looking around to make sure no one was between the main building and the cafeteria, he leaned closer to his friend. "Don't need x-ray vision to see that Clark--" He said as he gave his friend a light shove.

Clark's smile grew wider. "Funny!" He scoffed, and threw an arm around Pete's shoulders. "Come on. We're going to be late for English."

A lone figure dressed in a white lab coat hunched over his desk, his shaking right hand scrawling words in a medical journal. The journal was illuminated by a naked forty watt bulb that hung over the desk on a rusty fixture, and the hunched figure's body was wracked with spasms of coughing as he wrote.

Everyday I grow weaker as the fits of coughing grow worse. There is blood coming up now, and I fear I will not live much longer . . . but my research must continue! I must find a way, and I think now I've found her again . . . she lives in a tiny town called Smallville, only twenty miles outside the city limits.

The figure sat up slowly and coughed speckles of blood into a handkerchief that was bunched up in his free hand, and he looked out the window of his tenth floor laboratory over the city of Metropolis.

"Soon." He croaked. "Very soon . . . ."

The 3 o'clock bell rang and with it the usual rush of departing teenagers. Some headed to the parking lot, while others headed to locker rooms to change for various practices. Winding her way down the crowded hall, Caitlin unlocked her locker and pulled out several books stuffing them into her black back pack.

With a slam of the locker she was out the double doors and into the warm sunshine. She paused a moment and raised her face to it briefly; the rays making her hair look blond. Sighing at the warmth she slung her backpack over her left shoulder and headed for her car.

Clark rounded the corner as he left the school building to meet Chloe and Pete for a lift home in Chloe's car and was greeted by the sight of Caitlin Tollivar leaning over the trunk of her blue Ford Focus as she rearranged her backpack.  For a moment he was nothing more than a sixteen year old boy with very energetic hormones, and he collected himself before approaching her.

"Hi!" He said, then cursed his traitorous body as his voice suddenly rose two octaves. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"Hi, Caitlin." 

Caitlin gasped and whipped around, coming face to face with Clark Kent. Her purple sweater had risen a little, revealing her belly button and she quickly pulled it down over her jeans.

"Hi Clark--" She felt her face heat up and hoped he would blame it on the sun rather than his presence. "How are you doing?" She asked as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

"I'm fine . . . got lots of homework." He nodded, and gave an inward groan. That's great Clark, talk about your homework, it drives the girls wild.

"Actually I'm waiting for Chloe and Pete, Chloe usually gives us both a lift home."

"Oh, me too, a lot of studying to do--" She glanced around nervously, spotting the bright blond hair of Chloe. "I see them, they're over there." She looked at Chloe's frown. "And it looks like she's not happy about something."

"Uh oh." Clark's eyebrows raised when he saw Chloe's frown. "Come on; let's go see what's up."

"This is so unfair!" Chloe ranted as she closed her cell phone angrily and frowned at Pete. "It's going to take them 30 minutes to come look at my car!" She paced around angrily, her blue print dress fluttering with the movement.

"We can still catch the-" Pete's words were drowned out as half a dozen yellow school buses went growling by. " . . .bus." He finished, and shrugged a little as Chloe gave him a withering stare.

"What's wrong, Chloe?" Clark asked as he glanced over the jaunty little red VW Beetle she drove.

Chloe put her hands on her hips and kicked her flat back tire. "I'll give you one guess Clark."

"Look at the bright side, Chloe." Clark grinned. "It's only flat on the bottom, right?"

The face Chloe made at that could have stopped a run away train, Pete saw it and cringed. "Uhh just a little joke Chloe."

"Yeah, very little. The point is I can't take you or Pete home."

Caitlin cleared her throat. "I'd be glad to take you both, if you don't mind."

"That's real nice of you Caitlin, but I don't want to leave you here all alone." Clark said as he turned to Chloe.

Chloe sighed, putting her hand up. "It's okay Clark; I have to wait for Roadside Assistance to come anyway. With them it could be anytime between now and New Year's before they get here--" She faced him, her arms crossed over her chest. "Go ahead and go home with Caitlin."

"Are you sure?"

Finally smiling, the blond woman nodded, flicking a quick glance at Caitlin. "Yeah, you'll be in good hands."

"All right. Call the house if you run into trouble, okay?" He admonished, and Chloe dismissed him and Pete with a shooing motion of her hands. He and Pete retreated with Caitlin, and Pete whistled when he saw the girl's jaunty blue Ford Focus.

"Wow!" He exclaimed. "That's quite a ride you got there!"

"Thanks Pete--" Caitlin smiled as she pressed a remote control that unlocked the doors. "It was a gift-- hop in."

Pete climbed into the passenger side, leaving the front seat for Clark. "You heard the lady Clark, let's go--" He said with a knowing smile.

Martha took a clean glass from the drain board and took out a pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade. She added a couple of ice chunks to the glass and filled it with the cool summertime drink. Carrying it in her hand, she peeked out the screen door at her husband, a small smile came to her face as she watched him heft bales of hay with both hands and pitched them into the back of his truck. She shook her head, even after all these years of marriage, sometimes she still found it hard to believe this wonderful man was her husband.

Opening the screen door, she walked down the front steps and out to the fenced in field.

"Jonathan!" She called out as she approached him.

Jonathan Kent turned at the sound of his wife's voice, picking a stray wisp of hay out of his wavy blond hair, then finger-combing it with both hands as Martha held out the glass of lemonade to him.

"Martha Kent, you read my mind!" He chuckled. Although fall's chilly nip was in the air at night, the days were still warm and sunny. He took a long sip of the lemonade, sighed in contentment and slipped an arm around Martha's waist. "Let me see if I can think of a way to thank you . . . "

Martha snickered, smiling at her husband. "Oh I can think of one or two ways Mr. Kent--" She craned her neck and planted a kiss on his lips, laughing at their coldness and lemonade flavor.

Jonathan chuckled and nuzzled Martha's neck.

"Mmm . . ." He sighed, then blinked his eyes open as a car pulled into the yard. "Looks like we've got company." He said with a tinge of regret.

Martha leaned a little against his chest and sighed. "Well, there's always later on Jonathan--" She rocked a little in his arms, touching the big hand that went around her denim shirt.

Jonathan pulled away from her politely as a petite young woman got out of the driver's side of the car and Clark got out of the passenger side. Clark smiled; in all the years he'd lived on the farm, not a day had gone by where he hadn't seen his parents hugging, kissing or touching each other.

"Hey mom, dad."

"Hi Sweetheart--" Martha wandered out of the fenced area and gave her son a peck on the cheek. "How was school today?"

"Not bad. Same old same old." He replied, and glanced at Caitlin and Pete as they came forward. "Mom, dad, this is Caitlin Tollivar. Caitlin, these are my folks, Jonathan and Martha Kent."

Caitlin smiled meekly and held out her hand to Martha. "It's nice to meet you Mrs. Kent."

"You too, Caitlin." She smiled, and then Jonathan shook hands with her as well.

"It's a pleasure, Caitlin."

Caitlin felt herself blush at the attention, but the polite smiles of both of Clark's parents made her feel a little more at ease. "Same here--" She stopped talking, glancing at Clark.

"Any more lemonade?" Clark asked hopefully.

"Of course, I just made a fresh pitcher--" Martha smiled at Caitlin. "Help yourself."

"Thanks. Come on." Clark motioned for Caitlin and Pete to follow him into the house, and his gaze lingered on Caitlin long enough for Jonathan to raise a pair of mental eyebrows. As the three teens climbed the porch and went into the house, Jonathan made a musing noise. "Was it my imagination, or was Clark staring at that girl?" He asked his wife.

"It wasn't your imagination--" Martha faced her husband once again, wrapping her arms around his waist. "She's pretty and seems nice, what normal teenage boy wouldn't stare at her?"

"I'm just a little surprised. After all, I've never seen anyone but Lana Lang turn our son's head."

"Well, you know-- Clark and her are just friends now."

Jonathan's dark blue eyes were troubled. "I just hope he's careful."

Martha nodded her head, a reassuring smile on her face. "That's one thing our son is Jonathan, careful."

"I know we can't protect him forever." Jonathan sighed, "but we've been doing it so long that it's a hard habit to break." He kissed the top of her head. "Come on; let's go get some more of your lemonade before it disappears."

The oven timer went off and Martha opened the oven door, peeking in at the large tray loaded with a variety of pies.

"They look done to me--" She closed the door and straightened up, looking at the table-full of people enjoying more of her baked treats; her son and husband among them.

Martha untied the white apron over her denim shirt and lifted it over her head. "The pies are ready Jonathan, I need to get them to the Talon and take a load to the general store."

"Here, Sweetheart, let me get them." Jonathan offered, donning a pair of oven mitts and lifting the heavy baking rack out of the oven. The pies steamed and the edges bubbled with filling, and Jonathan inhaled the delectable aromas with a wistful look on his face.

"Do you absolutely have to take them?" He asked with a chuckle.

"I promised Lana and Mrs. Castlebeck that I would, but--" Martha took the oven mitts from her husband's hands and carefully slid off a strawberry pie onto the counter. "I did make an extra one of your favorite, just for you." She said with a smile.

"Martha Kent, I love you." Jonathan declared, and kissed his wife before helping her carefully stack the pies in a special wooden crate that he'd built for her. The crate had wooden slots built into it, slots just the right size for the pies to fit in to so they stayed put during the drive to town.

"I'll be back as soon as I can Jonathan--" She walked with him outside while he carefully loaded the pie crate in the back of the truck. "When I get home I'll start dinner--" She gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks for the help."

The screen door squeaked on its hinges and a moment later Pete came hopping down the porch steps.

"Hey Mrs. Kent, can I hitch a ride into town with you? My dad's at the hardware store right now and I can catch a ride home with him instead of having to take the bus."

"Sure Pete, I'll give you a ride--" Martha laid her hand on Jonathan's chest. "You take it easy okay? When I get back we'll have a nice dinner."

"Sounds good to me." Jonathan smiled, and gave her a quick kiss. "Be careful!" He called as Martha got into the truck and pulled out of the yard. Once the truck was out of sight, Jonathan went back into the house. Clark and Caitlin were still sitting at the kitchen table, munching on cookies and talking about their likes and dislikes of certain school subjects.

"History-- that's always been the one of my worst subjects--" She tucked another stray hair behind her ears and stared down at the table. "Guess it's sort of ironic in a way."

"Ironic? How come?" Clark asked, reaching for another cookie.

Caitlin raised her eyes to look at him, leaning back in the chair. "You mean you don't know my sad pathetic tale of whoa? I thought most of the school had."

"Uh . . . no. What about it?" Clark asked, glancing at his dad curiously as Jonathan poured himself a cup of coffee.

"I'm a foster child Clark--" She whispered, clearing her throat. "The Brown's have been my foster parents for the past six months."

"I know the Browns." Jonathan said, leaning on the kitchen counter and sipping his coffee. "They're good folks."

Caitlin looked over at Jonathan and smiled. "Yeah they are, they've been really good to me. But I'm afraid history really isn't one of their subjects either."

"Clark's an A student in history." Jonathan smiled, and Clark's blue-green eyes widened.

"Dad!" He exclaimed, and Jonathan smiled.

"What? It's the truth isn't it?" He asked, and Clark shrugged, embarrassed.

"Well yeah but . . . " He trailed off and grabbed another cookie, his face hot with a blush.

Seeing the embarrassment on his face, Caitlin touched Clark's arm. "No need to be embarrassed Clark, your dad's proud of you that's all--" Her eyes shifted to look at Jonathan. "You're lucky."

"I know, I just don't my folks renting a billboard and posting my grades on it on the way into town!" Clark exclaimed with a prominent eye-roll towards his father. Jonathan only grinned and sipped his coffee. "Sorry, son. My point was that maybe you could help Caitlin with her history."

Caitlin brightened, straightening her spine. "That's a great idea Mr. Kent!" She turned to gaze at Clark, her eyes pleading. "Would you? I really could use the help."

"I . . . uh, sure." Clark shrugged, reaching for the pitcher of lemonade. His hand struck it and nearly toppled it over but he managed to grab it and set it upright. "I don't see why not."

"You're a life saver Clark, you really are--" She reached out and touched his hand, her small fingers curling around his larger ones in a gentle squeeze.

Jonathan watched his son's eyes widen at the contact and hid his knowing smile in his coffee cup.

Dr. Fletcher Cole tried to muffle his coughing as he stacked four bright red plastic boxes near the back door of his office. The boxes were refrigerated and locked with a special combination that only the recipient of them knew. They would be picked up in twenty minutes and flown to other parts of the world, and in return, Dr. Cole would make a very handsome profit for their contents.

One of the boxes held a pair of human kidneys, two others a heart and liver, and the others several pairs of human eyes. The doctor smiled at the thought of the money they'd bring to fund his research.

"My research . . . " The doctor rasped, and turned to the machine that had taken fifteen years for him to build and had cost him what little health he'd had left. He ran his hands over its gleaming steel surface, loving and hating it at the same time.

The bulk of the machine was a thinly padded table with built in manacles on either side, and also down at the bottom. Connected to this table was a large glowing switchboard with a number of toggles. Over the doctor's head, hanging unused on a metal rack, were a number of large needles connected to tubes that ran down into separate sterilized containers. There containers were detachable, and each could hold up to three gallons of liquid.

This terrible apparatus, however, was not the beauty of the doctor's twisted imagination. It's real worth lay in the board's inner workings. After inserting these needles into a patient, (or "test subject, as he liked to think of them,) a flip of one of those toggles would send a stream of pure green liquid into the victim, liquid made of crushed meteor rocks. Dr. Cole had discovered some time ago that when manipulated the right way, the meteor rocks would instantly liquefy human flesh.

The machine had served him well over the years, making it easy to harvest human organs from people and to also liquefy their flesh to sell for DNA needs. The black market was ripe with the need for these things, and Dr. Fletcher was always in need of funds to find a cure for the disease that was slowly but surely destroying him.

He'd taken a number of people from the streets of Metropolis over the years, people who had been listed as runaways or kidnap victims. He paid others well to have subjects brought to him. In highest demand was the DNA of young human males, but Dr. Cole wasn't picky. He took what he wanted, incinerated the rest, and made a tidy profit to boot.

"But there's one fly in the ointment." Dr, Cole whispered to the machine, as if it could hear and understand. "My little Caitlin. She was a very naughty little girl . . . you remember, don't you? Yes. Yes . . . we must take care of her, before we are found out." He caressed the gleaming metal once again, thinking of his runaway daughter.

Caitlin sighed as she let her black backpack fall to the floor of her bedroom. The room a modest one, the walls were blank; not wanting to let any aspect of her life reflect on them. She plopped down on the bed face first, turning her head to the side she saw her wooden nightstand and opened the drawer, pulling out a small photo of a blond haired woman in a white dress.

"Met someone at school today Mom. His name is Clark, he seems nice--" She whispered to the photo, the pain of her mother's loss still squeezed at her heart. Clutching the photo in her hand she closed her eyes feeling the lump form in her throat.

"Please don't let him find me."

A knock on the door broke her concentration and Caitlin gasped; she quickly wiped her face and hid the picture under her pillow as she turned and faced the door.

"Caitlin? Are you all right?" Her foster mother, Bonnie Brown, called from outside the door. Then hesitantly, "May I come in, dear?"
"Sure, come in--" She sat up; giving her face another wipe to make sure no tears were present.

"Is everything all right? You usually come home right after school." Bonnie said softly, not wanting to pry.

"Everything's fine Bonnie--" Caitlin climbed off her bed and picked up her backpack. She set it on the bed and unzipped it, taking out her school books.

"I gave a ride home to Clark Kent, do you know who he is?" She glanced over her shoulder at her foster mom. Bonnie smiled a little as she thought of Jonathan Kent . . . tall, blond and subtlety muscular, then scolded herself for thinking that way when she was a happily married woman.

"I'm not too familiar with Clark, but I know his father." She replied, hoping that her face wasn't turning red.

"I met him and Mrs. Kent today too, they're both very nice and so is Clark. He's going to start tutoring me in history after school, if that's all right."

Bonnie pushed her long brown hair back over her ears. It was graying at the temples but her bright blue eyes were like those of a young girl. She was a big woman, big but not soft. She'd known nothing but dairy farm work all her life and wanted nothing more.

"Of course dear." She smiled, patting Caitlin's hand. "The Kent's are good people, and although I don't know their son very well I'm sure if they've raised him, he's a fine boy as well."

Caitlin saw the gleam in her foster mom's eyes, a look that reminded her so much of her mother that she had to look away. "He seems to be."

Pausing at Caitlin's almost tearful expression, Bonnie sighed in sympathy. "It's time like this when you really miss her, huh." She said gently.

Caitlin nodded, still not looking at Bonnie. "I miss her all the time--" She whispered, finally turning back to face her foster mom. "Sometimes I can't believe she's really gone."

Reaching out, Bonnie pushed the girl's bangs from her eyes. "I know it's tough, Sweetie. I lost my mom when I was thirteen and there were some days that I thought I'd never be able to get through . . . but I did. And then I met Jason." She smiled at the thought of her burly yet gentle husband. "He went a long way in helping me cope with her death." She sighed, then brightened. "So you hang in there, okay?"

"I'm trying Bonnie, sometimes I think I'll be all right but then some days I don't think I will--" She sighed, shaking her head. "I better get to my homework before its supper time."

"Hurry then." Bonnie smiled. "Jason's making cheeseburgers on the barbecue; he said he wants to have a last hurrah before the cold weather sets in." She patted Caitlin's hand and left the room.

Waiting until the door closed, Caitlin slid her hand under her pillow and pulled out her mom's picture. She studied it for a moment as she sat back down on her bed.

"I miss you Mom, I wish you were here--" Sighing she pressed the photo to her chest and closed her eyes.

Jonathan sat at the kitchen table amongst a stack of envelopes and papers. As Martha added some vegetables to a stew for that night's supper, Clark leaned against the kitchen counter and watched his dad write checks.

"I can get a part time job Dad, Lana says she needs help with the Talon after school. It'd just be for a couple of hours--" He knew that look on his dad's face; it was the face of a man with too many bills and a thin bank account. Jonathan heard his son and raised his head, pulling off his glasses.

"That's great of you to offer son, but I need you here after school to help out with the chores." Jonathan rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers as he spoke.

"What about on weekends Dad?" Clark saw his father give him a sidelong glance; he knew all too well what that face meant. "Dad I want to help." He walked over to the table and pulled out a chair, sitting down. "You and Mom need the money and it's not fair that the both of you have to deal with the bills all on your own."

"We're doing okay, son." Jonathan smiled at his son and patted him on the shoulder before going on to the next check.

"Besides," Martha put in, "A job would interfere with your grades, and with the scholarship you're working towards."

Clark sighed knowing his parents were right but at the same time he hated seeing them struggle whenever it came time to pay the bills. "All right--" He reached out to the fruit bowl and picked up an apple. "Dad you said you know Mr. Brown? Caitlin's foster dad?"

"Jason Brown? Sure . . . I see him in town all the time and he sometimes buys hay from us for his horses. He's a nice guy."

"He and his wife Bonnie have that dairy farm over on Anderson Lane don't they?" Martha added the last bit of ingredients to her stew and lowered the fire on it. She went over to the table and stood behind Jonathan, her arms encircling his neck.

"Our competition." Jonathan chuckled, as he and Jason Brown had been friends for several years.

Clark set his half eaten apple down. "But you never met Caitlin before the other day?"

"No, Jason had told me that he and Bonnie had taken in a foster child, but I've never seen her until you brought her home."

A knock on the door brought the conversation to an end. The three people turned to see the young lady in question standing at the screen door.

"Anyone home?" She asked, leaning forward and cupping her hand to see through the screen.

"Hi Caitlin." Clark took a few steps and opened the door for her. "Come on in."

"Thank you--" Caitlin had her back pack slung over her shoulder and let it slip down her arm. "Hi Mr. Kent, Mrs. Kent--" She greeted them before her eyes turned to look at Clark. "Am I too early for my history lesson?"

"No, of course not." Clark pulled out a kitchen chair for her and Caitlin's eyebrows raised when he nearly flung it into the next room. He cleared his throat and gestured to her. "Have a seat."

"Thanks--" Caitlin sat down in the offered chair, her back pack in front of her on the table.

Martha saw her son's sudden loss of control at the presence of this girl and cleared her throat.

"Jonathan, are you going to help me with that faulty lamp upstairs?"

"Faulty what?" Jonathan asked, then saw the earnest look on his wife's face. "Oh, yeah. That. Coming." He got up from the table and patted Clark's shoulder reassuringly as he went by.

"We'll leave you two to your studying--" Martha smiled at her son as they left the kitchen and headed upstairs.

Caitlin watched them, seeing Martha take Jonathan by the hand. "So what do we start with?"

"Umm . . . " Clark flipped through his book. "Well we just started the chapter on Jacksonian America, how are you doing with that?"

Caitlin's bluish gray eyes widened at the mention of that and she gazed down at her book.

"Who?"

"Andrew Jackson? He was elected president in 1829?" Clark prodded gently.

"The guy on the twenty dollar bill?" She blinked at him, the look of confusion still lingering on her face.

Clark grinned, then began to laugh. "Yeah, that's the guy. But look, he was more than just some guy on a twenty." Clark shoved his book over and showed her a photo.

"Oh, he was a war hero who defeated the British at New Orleans--" She raised her head to look at Clark, their eyes meeting. "No wonder he's got his picture on money."

"Yeah." Clark smiled, and his fingers brushed hers accidentally as he turned the page. Thoughts of Andrew Jackson promptly fled from his mind. "Uh . . . do you want some iced tea or Coke or something?" He asked, going to the fridge.

"Whatever you have to drink is fine Clark--" She felt her face warm in a blush and fanned her face while his back was turned. "As long as it's cold--" She slapped her hand over her mouth not believing she just said that.

"Right." Clark cracked some ice from the plastic tray in the fridge, careful not to crush it in his haste. He grabbed two Cokes and dumped the ice into two glasses and carried everything back to the table.

Caitlin watched him, seeing a strange look on his face as he sat down and set a glass of ice and Coke in front of her. "Are you all right Clark?"

"Uh huh, I'm fine." Clark smiled and pulled the tab on his Coke. It opened with a loud PFFFFFFT and sprayed him with a light coating of soda. He gasped and snorted, giving an inward groan. Way to go, Romeo! He thought miserably.

"Oh no!" Caitlin got up from the table and snagged a dishtowel from the counter. She began dabbing at the soda seeping through his blue t-shirt. "It must have gotten shaken up--" She pressed the towel against his chest, feeling the flush of embarrassment heating his skin.

"I'm fine, Caitlin, really!" Clark insisted, trying to draw away as his body reacted to her closeness. "It's nothing!"

"It's not nothing Clark you've got soda all over you!" She moved closer to him again, reaching out and snagged his wrist. "If you hold still I'll get it--"

Mentally throwing in the towel, Clark stood still watching her dab the soda from his shirt, then his face. She looked up at him and smiled a little. "See, its cleaning right-" Her words were broke off with a smothered gasp of shock as Clark lowered his head and pressed his lips gently to hers.

Caitlin's eyes slid closed as the warm sensation of his mouth taking hers flooded through her. The towel fluttered to the floor as her hand came around his neck and held him in place as their lips entwined briefly and then pulled away.

"Clark I--" Her mouth still moved though no words came out.

Clark gazed down at her, his greenish-blue eyes glowing with pleasure.

"I . . . sorry." He managed, unable to think of anything else to say.

A small smile came to her mouth as she shook her head. "Are you Clark? Because I don't think I am--" She still had her hand around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss, this one a little deeper and longer.

"Mmm!" Clark exclaimed in surprise, then his arms slid around her almost of their own free will.

They stayed that way for a few moments before the kiss ended, Caitlin's hand slid to his shoulder as she stared up into his face. "I really like you Clark--" She admitted with a hard swallow.

"I could tell." Clark laughed nervously, then smiled. "I like you too." He reached down and flipped the history book shut. "Come on. Let's take a break. Want a tour of the farm?" He asked, taking her hand.

"Sure, I'd love one--" Her small hand fit into his as they made their way outside.

Clark led her outside where the sun was beginning to set and there was a chill in the air. Clark saw Caitlin shiver and pulled off his flannel shirt and draped it around his shoulder.

"There, better?" He asked.

"Yes, thank you--" The shirt seemed massive but she slipped it on over her green sweater and rubbed her arms. "This is a nice farm; it's almost as big as the Brown's."

"It's been in my dad's family for four generations." Clark said as they strolled towards the barn.

Caitlin reached out and took his hand again. "The Brown's have had theirs just as long--" She sighed, wondering briefly for a moment what it would be like to have such deep roots.

Clark hesitated, then ventured forward carefully. "Uh . . . do you like them okay? The Browns, I mean."

"They're very kind and they treat me like I truly am their child--" Caitlin smiled meekly, giving Clark's hand a squeeze.

"I couldn't have asked for better folks than mine." Clark replied. "They've always let me know that even though I was adopted, they think of me as their flesh and blood."

That statement stopped Caitlin dead in her tracks. "You're adopted?" Her expression an astonished one as she gazed at Clark.

Clark nodded. "Yeah. I was around three years old when I came to live here, but I can't ever remember living anywhere else."

"I just thought--" She started shaking her head slowly. "The way they act towards you, I thought you were their child."

"I am." Clark smiled. They've never treated me any other way. I . . . I'm not even sure who my real parents are." He said softly, hoping he sounded convincing.

"I remember my mother--" Caitlin whispered, her voice low and pained. Clark saw the sadness wash over her face like a tidal wave as her head lowered.

"You do?" Clark asked, squeezing her hand gently. "What do you remember about her?"

Caitlin raised her head, her eyes shining with unspent tears. "Her smile. She had a beautiful smile that just made everything seem much less than it was. That smile always told me things would be okay no matter how bad they were."

"That's a good thing to be able to remember." Clark nodded, and glanced up towards the hayloft. He wanted to show her his loft hangout, but didn't want to frighten her into thinking he had other motives for suggesting they go there.

"I'm sorry--" Trembling fingers wiped her tears from her face as she cleared her throat. "It's not always easy to talk about her."

"I understand." Clark replied, and squeezed her hand again. "You don't have to say anything else about her if it hurts you."

"I appreciate that Clark--" Caitlin looked up at the big red barn and saw the open loft window and something sticking out from it. "Is that a telescope?"

Clark followed her gaze. "Yeah. My folks bought it for my birthday a few years ago and I like to check out the stars. That's kind of a fort up there . . . my dad brought some furniture up for me, a couch and a desk where I do my homework." Clark laughed. "He calls it my 'Fortress of Solitude."

"Can I see it?" The words no sooner left her mouth then her face turned a deep red; she grinned trying to make light of it.

"Really? You want to see it?"

"Sure, I'd love too--" She laughed, still feeling her face warm.

"Well, okay." Clark led her into the barn and up the steps to his hangout, and gestured at the couch and the desk. "See? There really isn't much to it."

Caitlin looked around at the couch and desk; her attention went to the telescope perched near the edge of the window and ran her hands over the smooth surface.

"It's really neat up here Clark--" She turned towards the open door and looked out at the view. "You can see for miles."

"Yeah it is nice when the night's clear. I come up here to think about things." He said softly, putting a hand on the window's frame.

She turned towards him, the slight breeze blowing her hair away from her shoulders. "What do you think about?"

Clark shrugged his broad shoulders. "Where I came from, sometimes." He glanced at her. "I never knew my folks. They . . . they died." He admitted.

Her smile faded and Caitlin pressed her lips together. "I'm sorry Clark--" She swallowed hard, tucking stray hairs behind her ears. "What else do you think about up here?"

"The future, sometimes." He shrugged; not wanting to mention that he'd spent hours up in that loft thinking about Lana Lang. Clark blinked at that thought, realizing then he hadn't thought about her much since he'd met Caitlin.

"I've given thoughts about the future too--" She moved closer to him, looking up into his face. "What do you want to do with yours?"

"I'm not sure." Clark admitted. "I like to write, and I do sometimes write articles for The Torch like I told you before. Maybe something in journalism. Who knows."

"That's okay, we have time to decide. But whatever you do choose for your future Clark, I'm sure you'll be great at it--" Her hand reached up and covered the one he had wrapped around the window frame.

"I'm sure you will too." He smiled, and felt something flutter in his stomach when he looked into her eyes. "Um . . . Caitlin? There's this dance coming up at school, kind of a winter celebration thing, in December. I was wondering . . . will you go with me?"

"D-Dance?" Caitlin's bluish gray eyes grew wide and the color seemed to drain from her face. "If it's in a public place--" She looked at her watch. "I better get home for supper Clark. Can we finish the history lesson tomorrow?"

Clark blinked in surprise at her unexpected answer. "Sure . . . listen, about the dance though. If you don't have a dress to wear don't worry, I'm sure Chloe or maybe Lana would loan you-"

"I really have to go Clark--" She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you in class!" Her voice called out to him as she practically ran from his sight.

"See you." Clark said softly, then cursed himself for pushing her. He whirled around and thundered down the hayloft stairs as he heard the truck pull into the yard.

Martha carried her purse in her hands as she closed the driver side door. "Was that Caitlin leaving?" She asked her son as he jogged over to her.

"Yeah, leaving in a hurry." Clark sighed as he lifted two bags of groceries out of the back of the truck for his mother.

"Is something wrong?" Martha couldn't help but notice Clark's less than pleased expression as he went up the porch steps and into the house.

"Yeah . . . no . . . I don't even know!" Clark exclaimed as he set the bags down on the kitchen counter. "Everything was going fine, so I asked her to the winter dance. A second later she was running out of here like the devil was chasing her! I don't get it."

"Maybe she's just shy Honey--" Martha began emptying the bag, giving a look to Jonathan who stood up to help her.

"Sure, son." Jonathan agreed as he began to stack cans in the pantry. "Give her some time to think about it, then ask her again."

Clark sighed, leaning against the counter as he folded up the two paper bags. "I—I really like her and in a different way then I ever liked Lana--" His gaze shifted from his mom to his dad.

"I can't explain it."
"You don't have to." Jonathan replied with a wink to Martha, who swatted him with a dishtowel.

"What your father means is that we understand Clark--" She went over to her son and touched his arm. "Just give her a little time and be her friend, I'm sure she'll come around and go to the dance with you."

"I shouldn't have asked her right then. I just got caught up after-" Clark clamped down on his words and turned away from his parents, his face turning red.

"After--" Martha and Jonathan both looked at each other. "After what Clark?" She reached out and snagged his flannel shirt, turning him back around.

Clark looked like he was about to be tortured, then blurted it out. "We kissed! Twice! I spilled some soda and she was cleaning it off my shirt and . . " He shrugged helplessly.

"And you wanted to thank her?" Jonathan blurted out, his wife whipped around and looked at him before turning back to see her embarrassed son. "Honey, did you want to kiss her?"

"Of course I wanted to kiss her, mom!" Clark looked at his mother as if she had asked him if the sky was blue.

She couldn't help but grin and shook her head. "Clark it's only natural that you wanted to and I'm sure you will again. Just trust yourself and you'll be all right."

Although Clark saw little of Caitlin at school, they continued their tutoring sessions as if nothing had happened. Clark didn't mention the dance again, hoping she would bring the subject up herself. Clark noticed, however, that maybe it just wasn't the dance she was avoiding but social activities in general. She didn't attend football games, pep rallies, or anything else outside of class. This struck Clark as odd, as Caitlin was obviously a friendly girl. Finally, perplexed and frustrated, Clark hitched a ride into town with his dad and walked over to The Talon, where he saw Lex's gold Lamborghini parked out front. He ducked inside and saw Lex sitting at a table in the corner, tapping the keyboard of his high-tech laptop and sipping a latte.

"Well what brings the elusive Clark Kent to my table--" Lex lifted his head, smiling at his friend as he closed his computer.

"Hey Lex. Mind if I sit down for a minute?"

"Not at all, I haven't seen you in here lately. Normally this place is your second home--" Lex picked up his latte and had a drink, his eyes focused on Clark. "Something wrong?"

"I don't know." Clark sighed, his large, expressive eyes troubled. "I've got this friend-" He scowled at Lex when the older man smiled knowingly into his coffee cup. "Okay so I mean me-- Anyway, I've sort of been seeing this girl. I've mostly been tutoring her in history, but we kissed a few times so I thought we were okay with it but then when I asked her to the winter dance she ran out on me and hasn't mentioned it since!"

"Ah I see--" Lex leaned back in the chair, studying Clark for a moment. "What else bothers you about her Clark?" He saw Clark's eyes widened and he continued. "Advice for the lovelorn isn't my specialty considering events as of late. And I imagine you'd go to your father before you'd come see me. So--what's really on your mind?"

"I like her Lex, but there's something about her that bugs me." Clark admitted. "I never see her at any of the school games or rallies, she hasn't joined any clubs. Okay so maybe not everyone is a 'joiner,' but it's like she comes to school for class and then vanishes after three!"

Lex nodded thoughtfully. "So you want me to use my many powers of persuasion to see what I can find out about her?"

"If you mean dig up dirt, then no. She's my friend, and I care about her. It's just the way she acts, Lex, it makes me think that something's wrong and she's not telling me about it." He lowered his voice. "She's also a foster kid. Do you think maybe there's something in her past that she's maybe running from or trying to forget?"

"It is possible Clark though highly unlikely, normally the death of both parents result in being a ward of the state--" Lex's fingers tapped his mug a moment. "What are the names of her foster parents? The very least I can check with Social Services and find out what happened to her family--" He saw a look of relief bloom on Clark's face. "You really are concerned for her, aren't you?"

"Brown, Jason and Bonnie and yeah I like her a lot, Lex." Clark admitted, glancing over at Lana as she served coffee on the other side of the room. "I haven't liked anyone like this in a long time, but I think she might be in trouble and I want to help."

"Clark Kent-- always the hero--" Lex beamed as he checked his watch. "Give me about a half an hour and then meet me in the mansion. I should have all the information by then."

"Thanks Lex." Clark sighed as he got up from the table and shook Lex's hand. "I'll get my dad to drive me out."

"All right-- just tell Bentley to take you to my study--" Lex stood up; he picked up his computer and tucked it under his arm. Clark started to brush past him when he called out his name, his friend turning back around. "I know I said I don't give advice but let me just say one thing. Always have honestly between you at all times Clark--" His face grew solemn. "Don't let secrets get in the way."

Lex sat behind his desk, stroking his chin as he gazed at his monitor.

"Now that's interesting--" He said to himself as he read the information that had come up. He got up from his chair and went over to the bar and began fixing himself a drink when a knock sounded out on the double doors.

"You don't have to knock Clark--"

"Force of habit." Clark replied, opening the heavy wooden door to Lex's office and stepping inside. He watched Lex make himself a cocktail, looking every bit the big-time businessman. "So . . . did you find anything out?" He asked.

"The Social Services website has been most informative--" Lex turned around and had a sip of his drink. He sat back down and wheeled his chair closer to the desk, turning his laptop around. "According to this, your friend Caitlin has quite an interesting story."

"What do you mean?" Clark asked, leaning over Lex's shoulder and looking at the computer screen.

"Had to do a little hacking but, according to this Caitlin's last name isn't really Tollivar, its Cole--" He pointed to the screen. "Her mother was Catherine Higby Cole, deceased. Apparently a victim of her husband, Fletcher Tyson Cole, a rather reputable doctor that is now a fugitive--" Lex leaned back in his chair, sighing. "The cops found Catherine dead in her husband's lab, apparently the victim of some experiment. Fletcher is a fugitive from justice and the state placed Caitlin in foster care, she's been in it ever since she was 13--" Lex glanced at Clark, seeing his stunned expression. "That would certainly explain why she's so anti-social."

"Her father killed her mother?" Clark asked, unable to believe such a thing. "But why?"

Lex shook his head, folding his hands in his lap. "The police were uncertain; but their theory is that it was simply a domestic dispute that got out of hand; they really didn't have much else to go on--" He watched Clark straighten up and rub his hand over his face. "Certainly puts things into perspective doesn't it?"

"The system is trying to hide her from her father." Clark concluded, and ran his hands through his dark hair. "If he's looking for her and she knows it, no wonder she doesn't want to be seen in public a lot."

"Exactly and considering what happened to her mother, it's understandable that this young woman is afraid for her life Clark--" Lex leaned forward and picked up his drink, taking a sip of it. "Are you going to talk to her about this?"

"I don't know. She's going to want to know where I found out, and I doubt she'd be too happy if I told her I had my friend do a little digging in the social system." Clark said unhappily.

"True that would be rather awkward--" Lex got up from his chair, walking around his desk. "So do it another way Clark. Just talk to her, a secret like this probably weighs heavily on her. She may need a friend to confide it and that someone would more than likely be you."

Keeping secrets . . . I'm good at that. Clark thought to himself, then looked away from Lex's interested gaze, as if his friend knew what he was thinking. "I don't know, Lex."

"Talk to her Clark-- Just be careful. If Fletcher Cole really is after her then you could be in as much danger as she is."

"But she can't run from him all her life!" Clark insisted, suddenly angry at this faceless man who was controlling Caitlin's life.

Lex reached out and touched his trouble friend on the shoulder. "She'll be running from him until he's caught Clark."

"Then maybe that's what we have to do. Thanks for your help, Lex." Clark turned and walked towards the door, his mind already forming plans on how to bring in Caitlin's father.

After school, Caitlin changed her clothes into more comfortable ones; she didn't have a tutoring session with Clark so she decided to take it easy. Lounging on her bed in a pair of jean shorts and a purple tank top, she read from her Stephen King novel; sighing. In some way she enjoyed the quiet time but in some ways she didn't; her thoughts strayed to Clark and she closed the book picturing his handsome face and smile. That brought on a smile of her own as she remembered the wonderful way he had kissed her. A knock on the door shattered her daydream and she started; glancing towards the door.

"Who is it?"

"It's Bonnie, honey. Clark Kent is here to see you."

"Clark?" Surprised; she had just been thinking about him, Caitlin sat up and laid the book down, tucking her legs under her. "Come in."

The door swung open and Clark walked in. "Hi, Caitlin." Bonnie paused and smiled at the two teenagers. "Keep the door open, you guys." She winked, and walked back down the hall.

"Hi, what are you doing here?" Caitlin felt a little self conscious in her shorts; she knew her cheeks were probably red. "You can sit down if you want--" She motioned to the end of her bed.

"Thanks." Clark sat down, trying not to notice the tanned expanse of her long legs. "Uh, Caitlin . . . I came over because I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Sure what about?" Caitlin glanced at the open door. "Why don't we go outside on the front porch? It'll be a little more private--" She climbed down from the bed and opened her closet door, crouching down to dig out a pair of slip on sandals. 

Clark tried not to gasp aloud and averted his gaze until she straightened back up again, a pair of brown slip on sandals in her right hand. "Sure, the porch would be nice. It's not too cold out."

Caitlin dropped her shoes and slipped into them, leading Clark out of her room and down the stairs. She opened the front door and got a nice gust of surprisingly unseasonable warm air as she held the screen door open for her guest. "Sometimes I'll do my homework out here."

"It's nice." Clark nodded, glancing around at the worn but comfortable outdoor furniture and the collection of small wind chimes that tinkled cheerfully in the breeze.

"Thanks, I think it is too--" She sat down in a white wicker chair and offered the other to Clark with an outstretched hand. "So what did you want to talk about?"

Clark sat down and avoided her gaze, not sure how to approach the subject without revealing what he'd done. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but telling it to Caitlin without making it sound like invading her privacy was immeasurably more difficult.

"I, um . . . I kind of wanted to talk to you about why you never come to any of the school games or anything. Don't you like it here?"

She stiffened, that wide panicked look reappearing in her eyes. "I uh-- yeah I like it here Clark. It's just that I'm--- shy and I really don't have many friends but you and Pete and Chloe--" Caitlin swallowed hard, hoping he would accept that as her explanation.

"Well, how do you expect to make any more friends if you stay home all the time? And the three of us could introduce you to a lot more people." Clark replied.

A sense of fear flooded through her as she stood up from her chair. "I don't want to talk about this Clark, I'm going back inside."

"Why?" Clark pressed, grabbing her hand, mindful of how much force he used to hold her back. "Do you think people won't like you? Caitlin, you're nice and pretty and interesting . . . if you give the kids at school a chance-"

He stood in her path and when Caitlin tried to move around him he shifted, still blocking her.

"Clark-- It's not about the kids at school--" She looked away from him, feeling the tears closing her throat and threatening to well up in her eyes. The feel of his hand around hers was comforting but it would take more than that to ebb her fear away. "Please just trust me on that."

"If it's not that then what is it? Come on Caitlin, talk to me!" Clark insisted, putting his hands on her shoulders.

Caitlin stared up into his face, seeing the concerned etched on it. She squeezed her eyes shut, the tears rolling down her cheeks. "I can't-- You'll be put in danger Clark and I can't do that to you."

"Don't worry about me; I can take care of myself." Clark replied, coming as close as he could to revealing his powers to her. "I want to help, Caitlin. Please, tell me what's wrong!"

She shook her head frantically, her eyes still closed. "I can't Clark! Don't you understand that I can't?" Caitlin dropped her head, covering her face with both hands as she sobbed; the pain coming out of her in great waves that made her small frame tremble.

Clark took her by the shoulders and shook her gently. "You can't keep running from him!" He shouted.

That shout got her attention and she instantly calmed, uncovering her face. She saw Clark's face and the realization that he knew everything came crashing down on her.

"You know don't you?" She swallowed hard, her eyes narrowing as anger flared up within her and replaced the pain. "You know about my father don't you!" Wrestling out of his grip she backed up a few steps, her light colored eyes now burning.

Clark closed his eyes briefly, mentally cursing his outburst. He had meant to sit down and tell her, calmly and rationally, why he had dug into her past. Now it was too late.

"Caitlin, I-" He pressed his lips together tightly, and nodded. "Yeah. I do."

"Why did you do that Clark, why? Don't you know you're in danger now?" She swiped her arm across her hot face, defiantly.

"You're the one in danger! You're the one who's had to run from him all this time!" He tipped her face up to meet his eyes with a gentle hand. "Why is he after you, Caitlin? Please, talk to me."

"My--my father has done bad things--" She started, taking in a deep breath. "He's got this machine and he was killing people. I'm not really sure how but my mother found out and when she-- when she talked to him about it--" Her lower lip began to tremble, but she bit it to stop. "He-- He killed her!"

"My God." Clark said softly, and hugged Caitlin to him. "I'm sorry, Caitlin, I didn't think-" He touched her hair gently. "What do you mean, he's got a machine? What kind of machine?"

Caitlin wrapped her arms around his waist, her head on his chest.

"I don't know what it does, something about DNA but that's all. After my mother died the police put me in a foster home and I've been going between them ever since." She closed her eyes, a sense of relief coming to her. That secret had been like a stone around her heart that was finally lifted.

"You're not going to have to run anymore, Caitlin." Clark promised. "Because we're going to find him, and we're going to put him away."

Lana Lang smiled at a couple sitting in a booth near the window of The Talon as she set down their order of specialty coffees and two pieces of cherry pie.

"There you go, enjoy." She told them, and walked back behind the counter with the empty tray. It was nearly six p.m., but quiet. Lana knew business wouldn't pick up until after seven, when kids finished their dinners and chores, and came here to work on their homework or just hang out with their friends.

Caitlin pulled back the door to the coffee shop and looked around meekly as she stepped inside. She saw all the people and felt a little self conscious, tugging at the bottom of her grey sweater nervously. She thought about just turning around and leaving when a strong hand touched her on the shoulder.

"Don't worry." Clark grinned. "I know these people, and most of them don't bite." He joked as he led them to a quiet corner table. It had been three days since their confrontation on Katilin's front porch, and Clark had barely let her out of his sight since then.

"It's just an old habit to break Clark, I've been ducking shadows for a while now--" Caitlin sat down in a chair that Clark pushed in for her and brushed her brownish-blonde hair back away from her shoulders.

"This is a pretty safe place, trust me." Clark reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out the ten dollar bill Jonathan had given him in payment of some extra chores he'd done around the farm that day. "Do you want a coffee?" He asked, and saw Lana approach them from the corner of his eye. His stomach clenched briefly, and he took a deep breath to steady it.

"Sure a coffee would be nice--" Caitlin reached out and touched Clark's hand, hers slightly trembling. She watched a dark haired young woman in a pink sweater approach and swallowed down her nervousness.

 "Hi Clark!" Lana smiled when she saw her friend, then paused ever so slightly when she saw the girl he was sitting with. "Hi. I'm Lana Lang, the owner." She stuck out her hand, and the girl shook it.

"Caitlin Tollivar."

"She's living with the Browns." Clark put in, and Lana noticed with a kind of vague dismay how his blue-green eyes danced when he glanced back at the girl. "Less than a mile from our place."

"Oh! Well that's great!" Lana's face crumbled a little when she saw their touching hands but put on a brave smile. "Well then I have a new customer than, that's great--" She picked up her tray and laid her pad on it. "So what can I get you both?"

"I'll have a latte with whipped cream." Clark replied, and Caitlin glanced briefly at the drink menu.

"I'll have . . . the cherry Italian soda, also with whipped cream." She smiled.

"Sure, coming right up--" Lana scribbled on her pad as she did an about face and went to get their orders. She went back behind the glass counter and turned around, seeing the way they looked at each other made a pang of longing well up in her chest.

What's wrong with me? She thought to herself as she turned on the latte machine. I was the one who pushed Clark away and just wanted to be friends . . . shouldn't I be happy that he's with another girl?

Shaking the thoughts from her mind, Lana sighed and finished getting their order ready.

"This is a nice place Clark, I'm glad we came here--" Caitlin smiled as she looked into his face. "I feel safe with you."

Lana caught this last bit of conversation as she walked up to the table with their drinks. "That's our Clark . . . everyone's hero." She smiled, but Clark noticed the smile didn't touch her almond-shaped eyes, which looked annoyed.

Caitlin couldn't help but notice the tone and she quickly pulled her hand away from Clark's. She looked at Lana with wide eyes and stood up.

"Excuse me--" She quickly left out the front doors. Clark watched her leave and turned to look at Lana.

"What was that about?" He asked, rising to his full height of six-feet-five inches. "You don't even know her, Lana!"

Lana shook her head, suddenly feeling guilty about what she had said. "I-I'm sorry Clark, I don't know what came over me."

"Sorry." Clark echoed, and stepped around her. "Right." He headed for the Talon's door, which had just barely swung shut. "Caitlin, wait!"

"I didn't mean it Clark--" Lana sighed heavily, dropping her head to run her hand across her forehead. She chased after him, reaching to snag his sleeve before he could walk out the door.

"Leave me alone, Lana!" Clark snapped, yanking his arm away. "You've done enough!" His eyes flashed. "You know, it took me two days to convince Caitlin to come here, and I told her not to worry even if she didn't know anyone because all of my friends came here and one of my best friends owned it! Now what is she supposed to think?"

Taken aback by his anger, Lana swallowed hard. "I'll go outside and talk to her-- Apologize to her for what I said. I guess I was just wasn't ready to see you with another girl."

Clark paused. "But I thought you just wanted to be friends."

"I do Clark, its just not easy sometimes--" Lana tucked a stray hair behind her ear and reached out to grab the door. "I'll talk to Caitlin; it's my fault she got upset."

"I better come with you."

Nodding, Lana pulled open the door, both of them stepping out into the dark night.

"Caitlin?" She called out as she looked around.

A muffled scream caught Clark's attention and he turned in time to see Caitlin being dragged around the corner of the alley that ran between the Talon and the insurance office next to it.

"Caitlin!" He shouted, and ran towards her. "Call the police!" He yelled to Lana over her shoulder. "Go!" He commanded as Lana hesitated, then ran back inside.

"Clark!" Caitlin batted at the big hands of the football player-sized man in black that had a hold of her sweater. "Let me go!" She protested, struggling hard to get out of his vice-like grip.

"Quiet!" He snarled as he yanked her to him and slid back the door of a dark blue van; shoving her inside.  

"Caitlin!" Clark shouted as he saw the young girl being pushed into a van and rushed forward to pull her out. The big man saw him coming and reached back to grab the only weapon at hand; a large black valise that belonged to his employer.

Dr. Fletcher Cole, sitting in the driver's seat of the van, gasped and struggled to turn when he saw his bodyguard grab up his black bag.

"No, you fool!" He rasped, his ruined lungs not allowing him to shout.

"Let her go!" Clark shouted, and gave a small grunt as the big man swung a heavy leather valise at him and it connected solidly with the side of his face. His eyes sparked in anger and the man swung the valise again, but this time there was agony in Clark's neck and upper body as something flew out of the case and shattered against the alley wall, spattering him with small splashes of glowing bright green. He cried out and stumbled to his knees, trying to brush the stuff away.

"What the---?" The goon looked in the briefcase at the other vile of glowing green and quickly tucked it into his pocket. He bent down and grabbed Clark by his shirt, drawing his big beefy hand back and slugged him; his head rocking to one side.

"Clark! Leave him alone!" Caitlin saw him fall and heard his pained cry, she watched as the goon started hitting him and tried to get out of the van only to have a hand reach out and snag her wrist.

"Going somewhere Caitlin?" Her eyes grew wide and her mouth dropped open as she saw her familiar face of her father.

"Let me go!" She swung her other hand, connecting it solidly against the side of his head. The blow wasn't much but in Fletcher Cole's weakened state it made him hesitate and release his daughter's wrist. She climbed out of the van and looked around for a nearby weapon, spotting a glass bottle. Caitlin grabbed it and with both hands, brought it down on the big man's head, shattering it.

"Caitlin please, help me." Clark gasped, stumbling to his knees and still trying to brush away the small splashes of deadly kryptonite. Caitlin jerked her gaze away from the fallen bodyguard, briefly amazed by what she'd done, and then slipped an arm around Clark's waist, trying to help him to his feet.

"What's wrong?" She asked, but Clark only shook his head and willed himself to rise and walk.

"Let's . . . get out of here." He gasped, pulling off his red checked flannel shirt and wiping at the green smears on his chest and neck.

She saw what he was doing and shook her head. "Are you all right?" The liquid on his shirt was green and his pain expression made the answer come to her.

"It's hurting you?" Caitlin helped him dab the spots and touched the ends of his t-shirt, lifting it. "Let's get this off of you."

With her help Clark managed to squirm out of his t-shirt, and Caitlin wiped the rest of the kryptonite away. Clark gritted his teeth as the last of the pain faded, and he glanced back at the alley. Both his attacker and the van were gone.

"Clark—my father was in that van!" Her adrenaline rush had disappeared and with it her courage. "I don't know how but he's found me--" She dropped her head to wipe his face, seeing his green covered shirts. "I know that glow--"

Clark looked up at her, feeling too nauseated to move at that moment. "It's nothing." He said quietly. "That big goon punched me in the gut and it knocked the wind out of me, that's all."

"That glow isn't nothing! I've seen that in my father's lab--" The conversation came to a halt as Lana came racing out of the Talon.

"Are you both all right?" She saw Clark's lack of clothes and creased her brow. "What happened to your shirts Clark?"

"One of the trash cans got knocked over and there was a jar with some kind of clear liquid in it. It splashed on Clark but it just burned his clothes--" Caitlin spoke up before Clark could reply. "Maybe it was some kind of acid that got tossed back here from the medical building down the street."

"Oh! Are you all right Clark? I can get you a t-shirt from inside, on the house--" Lana smiled, trying to make up for her earlier comment.

"Yeah, thanks." Clark mumbled, finally getting to his feet. The effects of the kryptonite were finally fading.

Caitlin helped him, her arms around his waist. "I guess going for coffee wasn't such a great idea huh? Maybe we should have just stayed at home and played a game."

"Yeah . . . maybe." Clark smiled, but his mind whirled with questions. Had Caitlin seen the effects of the kryptonite on his body? What was he going to tell her? He ran his hands through his dark hair.

"I should get you home now Caitlin."

She shook her head. "No! Clark I can't go home! My father was in that van! He's probably waiting for me there!"

"He might not know about the Browns, and we need to call the police, maybe even the FBI." Clark argued.

Lana returned with a maroon t-shirt with Talon Coffee House across the front of it in white letters.

"Here you go Clark; Sheriff Adams is on her way."

Clark took the shirt and shrugged it over his head as he made a pained face. He and Sheriff Adams didn't exactly have a good law-enforcer/citizen relationship. She was suspicious of him and made no bones about her beliefs. "Thanks Lana . . . you called the sheriff?"

"Yeah--" Lana tucked her thumbs into the belt loops of her jeans. "The way Caitlin screamed I thought it would be the best thing to do--" Her gaze bounced between both of them. "Was that wrong?"

"Sheriff Adams and I don't exactly get along." Clark admitted, and glanced at Caitlin. She was looking up at him with a distinctly puzzled expression, whether from his comment or their encounter with the kryptonite he couldn't tell.

"Clark someone tried to kidnap Caitlin, the Sheriff has to be told--" Lana looked at Caitlin; she looked a little stunned from her ordeal. "Shouldn't we call your parents?"

"Um . . . yes I suppose . . . " She glanced uncertainly at Clark, who pressed his lips together. "Not from here though. Come on, I'll take you to my house. We can decide what to do from there."

Caitlin leaned against the counter, the Kent's black cordless phone in her hand.

"Yes Bonnie I'm, fine. Sheriff Adams recommended that Clark and I stay in one place and her and her men are staking out the farm--" She rubbed her hand over her face sighing. "I'll be careful, the Kent's are taking good care of me--" A smile came to her face.

"Me too Bonnie, I'll be home as soon as I can. Bye--" Hanging up the phone, she pressed the antenna to her forehead and closed her eyes.

Martha put a hand on her shoulder. "Is everything all right Caitlin?"

"Yes, everything's fine. Sheriff Adams already talked to them but they wanted to double check and make sure I was all right--" She handed the phone back to Martha. "Thank you Mrs. Kent."

"You're welcome." Martha smiled, and handed Caitlin a hot cup of cocoa. "Here you go."

Clark glanced out the window and saw that light was on in his father's small workshop in back of the barn.  "Mom, is dad mad at me?" He asked Martha softly as she began to fill the sink with soapy water.

"Of course he's not Clark, why do you think that?" Martha added the dishes to be washed, turning to see her son's inquisitive expression. "You know how he gets Clark. Your father isn't one to really come right out and say when he's worried or upset. He doesn't like to put it on other's people shoulders, he prefers to carry it all himself." Glancing towards the window she sighed. "It's the way he deals with things Clark, he always has."

"But it's after nine. He's never out in his shop that late." Clark's sensitive hearing picked up the faint whine of Jonathan's jigsaw. "Maybe I should go talk to him."

"He's out there thinking Clark, when he comes up with a solution he'll come back inside--" Martha reached out and gripped her son's arm. "But in the meantime we have a guest, why don't you take her upstairs and show her the guest room?"

Clark sighed heavily and shook his head as he turned away from the window. "All right, mom. Come on Caitlin, I'll show you where you'll be staying, and I'll get you some towels and soap." He led the girl upstairs while Martha turned back to the dishes.

"I'm sorry Clark, it's all my fault your dad is upset--" Caitlin followed him, the wooden stairs creaking beneath her feet. She saw the way his shoulders slumped and it only added to her guilt.

"It's okay." Clark replied softly. "Once he thinks it over I'm sure he'll see that this is the only way to protect you."

Martha rinsed the last dish and stacked it in the drain board. She flung the excess water from her hands and picked up a dishtowel drying them. The backdoor opened and her husband came in, an aroma of woodchips along with him. "Hey, get your work done?"

"I suppose . . . I don't know." Jonathan sighed, pulling off his dark green hooded sweater, whose shoulders were coated with a light film of fine sawdust. He hung it on a kitchen chair and washed his hands at the sink. "Where's Clark and Caitlin?"

"Clark went to show her the guest room--" She tossed him the dishtowel, crossing her arms over her chest. "Clark was asking about you Jonathan, he thought you might have been angry at him."

Jonathan closed his eyes briefly and sighed before opening them again. "I'm not angry at him, Martha, I'm angry at the thought of him being put in danger! Suppose that liquid kryptonite had gotten into his eyes, or if there had been more of it? He could have been killed!"

"I know that but at the same time can you imagine what that man would do to Caitlin if he got a hold of her?" Martha glanced briefly in the direction of the stairs. "I know Clark put himself at risk but he did it to protect Caitlin. You should be proud of him--" Martha's face grew serious as he stared at her husband.

"I'm always proud of our son, no matter what." Jonathan said softly, and put his hands on her shoulders. "But you know as well as I do that if his secret gets out there's no way we'll be able to hold onto him."

Martha's eyes closed at the thought as she slid into her husband's arms, hugging his waist. "When he comes down here we'll talk to him."

"This is a nice room, Clark." Caitlin smiled as she looked at the tidy guest room. It had a double bed, covered with a giant handmade surprise quilt. There was a large oak dresser in one corner, a small desk in the other, and the floor next to the bed was covered with a braided multicolored rug.

"Thanks, my mom decorated it like this so guests will feel like they're more at home--" Clark smiled as he approached Caitlin, seeing her frightened expression. "You're going to be all right, you know that don't you?"

Caitlin nodded wordlessly, and Clark put his hands on her shoulders. "I know he scared you but don't worry, you're safe here. The cops have the farm staked out, remember?"

"I remember--" She drew in a shuddery breath and shook her head. "He's going to find me; he'll never stop Clark-- Not till I'm dead like my mother!" Caitlin squeezed her eyes shut, dropping her head as the tears came hard and fast.

"Shhhh, it's all right. Come on." He pulled her into a comforting embrace, rocking her a little as he rested his chin on top of her head. "Don't cry, Caitlin. I promise I won't let him hurt you."

"I know, I know you won't let him--" She raised her tear streaked face to look into Clark's. "I didn't thank you, for earlier. If you hadn't showed up, my father would have succeeded in kidnapping me."

"You don't have to thank me, Caitlin. I-" Clark bit down on his words, then arranged them in his mind very carefully before he spoke. "I care about you."

"I care about you too Clark--" She stepped closer to him, reaching up to touch his face; her bluish grey eyes bright.

Clark leaned down and touched his lips to hers, then deepened the kiss as his arms tightened around her. She sighed happily, then Clark startled guiltily as his mom called up the stairs. "Clark? Does Caitlin have enough clean towels?"

Caitlin touched her hand to her mouth and giggled as Clark cleared his throat and went over by the open door.

"Yeah mom, she's fine! Thanks!" Clark called back, then glanced back at Caitlin and rolled his eyes.

Caitlin went over by the door and took Clark's hand. "It's been a long day and night so far, I better get some rest."

"All right." Clark gave her a chaste kiss in case his mom decided to come up and check on those towels herself. "Good night." He left the room and paused at the head of the stairs to smooth out his hair, then walked down the steps into the living room.

"Caitlin get settled in?" Martha and Jonathan were in the living room, both of them sipping hot chocolate. Clark knew what was coming and braced himself for the raging storm ahead.

"Son, we need to talk about all this." Jonathan began, his rich voice betraying none of the roiling emotions he felt inside.

"Yeah, I figured--" Sighing as he sat down on the couch, his gaze bounced between both his parents. "I know you're probably angry over what I did Dad."

"I'm not angry at you, Clark, but suppose there'd been more than just one little vial of kryptonite in that briefcase? What if there's been a gallon of it? Two gallons? It could have killed you!"

"Actually there was more than one vial--" He saw the emotion in his father's eyes and gulped audibly. "I mean-- I didn't even think about that fact Dad, I just had to help Caitlin."

Jonathan's mouth worked briefly but no sounds came out, and Martha put her hand on top of his as she leaned forward a little. "Clark, we know you care about Caitlin-"

"But you can't run the risk of her finding out about you!" Jonathan burst out suddenly, his dark blue eyes flashing.

"So what was I supposed to do Dad? Just stand there and let those guys take her?" Clark got up and stood before his parents. "I have these gifts and if I can't use them to help people then what good are they!"

"Now, I never said I didn't want you to help people." Jonathan protested, setting down his coffee mug and rising to his feet.

Clark began to pace, running his hand through his hair; having something very important to tell his parents. "Caitlin saw what the kryptonite did to me. She could see it was hurting me!" He stopped walking and turned towards both of them, waiting for their reaction.

Jonathan's eyes widened and he stared at his son. "Clark . . . .are you sure?"

He nodded, swallowing hard. "She helped me get my shirts off-- I tried not to let it show but it burned so bad--" Clark sighed, shaking his head. "I couldn't hide it from her."

"Oh, son . . . " Jonathan ran a hand down his face in dismay as Martha glanced up at him.

"I'm sure we can think of some kind of explanation."

"I don't see how Mom, she said she recognized the kryptonite and that her dad used it. She even covered for me when Lana wanted to know why my shirts were gone--"

"That doesn't mean you can tell her about your powers!" Jonathan argued.

Clark's jaw clenched, his greenish- blue eyes flashing. "Why not Dad? She saw the kryptonite hurt me, I can't just lie to her about that or pretend that I don't know what she's talking about. She saw it in my face and I grew weak right in front of her, so much so that the guy that was helping her father started beating me up! Caitlin saved me from him, did you know that?"

"I didn't mean to imply that you can't trust her, son, but you know that you can't reveal your powers to anyone!"

He covered his face with both hands, his frustration clear as he turned his back. "Of course not, Clark Kent share an important part of himself with someone he cares about? Oh no we can't have that!"

Jonathan's face fell. "Clark." He said softly, and put his hand on his son's shoulder. It felt like solid rock. Clark, son . . . "

"I know what you're going to say Dad, you don't have to say it--" His shoulders sagged, his voice muffled. "I'm not saying that I want to be someone else, but sometimes--" Clark turned back around, the turmoil in his light eyes clear. "This secret is so heavy that sometimes I wish just for a minute I could drop that weight--" He sighed, shaking his head. "I'm going to the barn--"

"Clark, wait." Martha pleaded, standing up. "Honey please, stay and talk to us."

"Talk about what Mom?" Clark asked as he reached out and grabbed the doorknob, opening the front door. "That I can't tell anyone what I can do? We've been over it a thousand times."

"Clark-" Jonathan began again, taking a step towards his son, but Clark ignored him and stormed outside, slamming the door hard enough to splinter the frame. Jonathan winced and turned helplessly towards Martha. "I didn't set out to hurt his feelings." He said softly.

"I know you didn't Jonathan and Clark knows it too--" Martha wrapped her arms around her husband, hugging him. She glanced towards the front door and gasped deeply, her eyes wide when she saw Caitlin standing at the bottom of the staircase.

"Caitlin!" She breathed, and Jonathan looked up, turning towards the staircase. She looked back at them, the towel and borrowed bathrobe forgotten in her hands.

"I know Clark is special, I just didn't know how much so until now--" She walked towards them, seeing their awkward expressions.

Jonathan took Martha's hand and squeezed it. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. "W-What do you mean, exactly . . . uh, Caitlin?"

"You tell me Mr. Kent? I heard you talking about Clark's powers--" Caitlin watched his dark blue eyes widen, the same look she saw in her own eyes on more than one occasion. The look of terror at the thought of being exposed.

"I . . . " Jonathan looked helplessly at Martha, who stepped forward a little.

"I think you must have misunderstood." She said gently. "Clark doesn't have any special powers."

"I'm not an idiot Mrs. Kent, with all due respect. I know what I heard and what happened in the alley when that green stuff splashed on Clark--" She shook her head slowly.

"What you heard, Caitlin was a private conversation between us and our son." Jonathan said suddenly and with such venom that it made Martha look up at him, startled.

Caitlin raised her chin a little, swallowing hard. "I didn't mean to hear Mr. Kent, the raised voices-- I wasn't sure what was going on--" She looked into his fiery eyes, seeing a fierce protectiveness in them. "I understand that you want to protect Clark."

"You don't understand anything." Jonathan shot back, advancing on the girl and shaking Martha's hand off his arm as she reached out to calm him. "Clark is our son, and I will do anything I have to in order to keep him with us."

Caitlin backed up, her back hitting against the banister of the staircase as the furious Jonathan Kent came towards her, his quick stride made her heart go up into her throat.

"I don't want anything to happen to Clark either Mr. Kent, I care about him too!"

"Jonathan!" Martha said firmly, her heart beating hard. She had never seen her husband look so angry.

"Dad, stop it!" Clark said from the kitchen doorway, and quickly put himself between Caitlin and his furious father. As tall as Jonathan was though, he still had to tilt his chin up to look Clark in the eyes.

Caitlin reached out and took a hold of Clark's arm, relieved that he had a good sense of timing. She took a deep calming breath and side stepped Clark.

Martha took a hold of her husband's arm and pulled him back a bit. "Jonathan it's all right, just calm down."

Jonathan gave the two young people a long, measured look, then all the anger seemed to leave him, like a balloon deflating. His shoulders sagged, and his expression turned to one of extreme sadness as he turned and left the room. Martha looked after him in dismay, then spoke over her shoulder to Caitlin as she went after him. "He didn't mean to scare you . . . Jonathan wait!" She called as she went into the kitchen after him. The door slammed a moment later, and Clark looked down at Caitlin.

"Mom's right, he wouldn't have hurt you."

"I didn't think he would but I wasn't sure--" Caitlin wiped her hand down her face. "I want to talk to your father Clark."

"I . . ." Clark glanced towards the kitchen. "I don't know, Caitlin."

Her fingers slid down his arm to his hand. "I know what its like to have a secret that you'd give your life to protect--" He turned back to look at her, seeing the look in her bluish grey eyes.

Clark thought of the fear on his father's face and knew he couldn't just walk away without trying to put it to rest.

"All right." He said softly. "Let's go."

They went into the kitchen and out the back door that led to the porch. It was there they found Martha and Jonathan. They were sitting on the glider, and Clark's heart squeezed with emotion as he heard his father sobbing softly into Martha's shoulder, and his mother comforting him.

"Shhh its all right Jonathan-- its all right--"

Caitlin heard Martha saying softly and swallowed hard as she took a few steps towards the glider.

"Mrs. Kent-- Can I talk to Mr. Kent for a moment?"

Martha looked up and the young girl saw no anger in her eyes, only grief and sympathy.

"I think that'd be up to him." She said softly, and Jonathan wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeves.

"No . . Martha, it's all right." He looked up at Caitlin, his eyes red and his face tearstained. "It's all right. Sit down. You too, son." Jonathan said softly, and Martha slipped back into the house to give them privacy.

Clark and Caitlin sat down on the steps in front of the glider. Jonathan got up and ran his fingers through his blond hair as he walked down the steps, looking down at both of them.

"First of all let me apologize to you, Caitlin. I had no right to do what I did in there no matter how angry or upset I was."

"I understand Mr. Kent, you were just-- scared--" She stared up at him, seeing the calm demeanor had returned to his face. She could still see the pain though and stood up. "I know why you're afraid but you don't have to be."

"I know you aren't going to expose Clark's secret, Caitlin, but there are other people who might try to hurt you in order to know what you know." Jonathan replied. He hadn't yet met Clark's eyes . . . he was too ashamed of how he'd acted in front of his son.

Caitlin's eyes slid closed. "Somehow I think my father might be one of them--" She glanced from father to son. "What-- What powers were you all talking about?"

Clark took a deep breath and looked Caitlin in the eye. "Well . . . like this." He stood up and shot his hand out, grabbing a handful of Jonathan's shirt. Jonathan's eyes widened.

"Clark no!" He gasped, and then was rising in the air as Clark lifted him over his head with one hand and suspended him there as if he were holding an empty plate.

"Oh my God!" Caitlin gasped, touching her hand to her mouth as Clark held his father up by one finger, grinning at her as if he was lifting a Ken doll.

"Okay son, I think she gets the idea!" Jonathan called, and Clark set him down gently.

"I can do it with anything!" He told Caitlin excitedly. "I can even lift up our tractor like that. Oh, and this-" Clark took off running, then  accelerated too fast for either of them to see, circling the house ten times in less then four seconds. He came to a halt in front of them, his eyes sparkling.

"Pretty neat huh?"

"Incredible--" Caitlin whispered as her eyes grew wide, they were just as bright as Clark's. "Is that all? And how is it that you got these powers?"

"I can do other stuff too, but I'm only now finding out about them." Clark told her, then paused as he glanced over at Jonathan. His father seemed to be holding his breath. "I got them from my parents, Caitlin. My birth parents."

"Birth parents?" She saw the look on Jonathan's face, his deer in the headlight look made her think a moment. "They weren't-- human were they?"

"No." Clark said simply, and then a huge grin spread across his face as if he'd told a good joke. "They weren't."

Caitlin stared at him with disbelief, a quick glance at Jonathan and his slight nod confirmed what Clark said to be true. "But if your parents weren't human then--" She stopped in mid sentence as her eyes seemed to grow even rounder. "You're—you're an—alien?"  

Clark nodded. "For lack of a better word . . . yeah, I guess I am."

"But how did you--?" Caitlin's memory flashed to the alley and the liquid meteor rock that had splashed on Clark. She remembered his pained gaze. "The meteor rock--It really did hurt you?"

"Yeah." Clark admitted. "In big enough amounts it could kill me."

She took a few steps towards him and reached out to touch his arm, her fingers grazing over the warm flesh. "You really don't feel any different Clark--" She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. 

"I'm still the same guy." He reminded her.

"I know you are its just--" Caitlin didn't know how to express herself; she gazed into his face, her bluish grey eyes shining with awe and wonderment.

"Eerie?" Clark suggested a wicked gleam in his eye.

Nodding, Caitlin glanced over her shoulder at Jonathan, waiting to see if he was going to say anything. "Mr. Kent?"

"Hmm?" Jonathan turned his head towards her.

"You're afraid that if people find out about Clark, they'll take him away or hurt him, right?"

Jonathan sighed softly. "Yeah. That's exactly what I'm worried about. When he was little we almost took him to a doctor to see about his powers, but then Martha pointed out that if other people found out they'd want to keep him, and we'd lose him." Jonathan swallowed hard. "I'd never forgive myself for failing to protect him if that happened."

Caitlin turned away from Clark and went back over to the steps where his father stood. "I care about Clark; I don't want to see him get taken away or turned into some lab rat. It might not mean much but I swear on my life that I won't reveal what I know."

Jonathan's eyes closed in such an expression of relief that it made Clark's throat tighten with emotion. Sometimes he forgot that the burden of his secret was just as hard on his folks than it was on him.

"Thank you, Caitlin. Thank you." Jonathan said softly, and smiled at the young girl.

She gave him a nod and took a step towards him, hesitating a moment she held out her arms and put them around the older man in a gentle hug. "Secrets are hard Mr. Kent; I know how hard they can be."

Jonathan returned the embrace briefly, then stepped away from her. "If Clark trusts you, then that's good enough for me." He smiled.

"I trust him too--" Caitlin glanced at Clark, seeing his trouble expression. She knew what it was and smiled at both men. "I better go take that shower now, excuse me--" Leaving the two men alone, the screen door closed with a bang behind her.

Jonathan pretended to examine the paint on the porch railing while he felt Clark's eyes on him, and then finally he turned. "Son, I am so sorry." He said emphatically.

Clark tucked his hands into his back pockets, looking around. "Caitlin's right, you were scared Dad. Something you've spent a long time protecting was found out and your instinct to protect me just sort of kicked in."

"But I had no excuse to frighten that young lady or make her think I was going to harm her. I just-" Jonathan ran a hand through his blond hair, making it stand up in spikes. "I just don't want to lose you, Clark!"

"You're not going to lose me Dad--" Clark approached his father and put his hands on his shoulders. "No matter what happens to me Dad, good or bad, you will always have me. Even if the whole world finds out my secret. Don't you understand that?"

Jonathan smiled, but his eyes were bright with tears. "Yeah. I get it, son." He replied, and hugged Clark tightly. He couldn't say what was in his heart because of the events of that summer . . . how he and Martha had lost their unborn child, and how Clark had blamed himself. Jonathan clamped down on the words. No. He and Martha had made a promise never to talk about it in front of Clark again, even if it meant explaining to Clark how they had lost one child, and how they couldn't bear to lose him as well.

Long after Clark and Caitlin had gone to bed, Martha and Jonathan retired to their room as well. Exhausted, Martha slipped into her nightgown. As she turned to reach for her hairbrush, she noticed Jonathan standing by the window clad only in his jeans, staring out the window into the night.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Martha came up behind him, her arms encircling lean waist; she pressed her cheek to his back, inhaling the clean spicy scent of his skin.

Jonathan put his hands over hers. "I was just thinking about how I couldn't tell Clark the real reason I was so angry this afternoon."

Martha peeked around his upper arm, looking into his face. "Are you going to tell me?"

"We told ourselves . . . after that day that we wouldn't talk about it." Jonathan said carefully. He knew the loss of the baby had been especially hard on Martha.

"Jonathan--" Martha's hands slid around his waist as she walked around him. "I know that losing the baby hurt, but losing Clark at the same time for three months--That was ten times worse--" She took his hands and touched them to her lower abdomen. "The doctor said there's no reason why we couldn't have another."

Jonathan gave her a warm smile. "I know, and don't think that I'm going to shirk on that duty." Then he sobered. "It's not Caitlin knowing Clark's secret that has me worried; really, it's more what she told me about her father. About how he's after her. You know that if Clark cares about her, that he's going to try and help her."

"You know he does care about her Jonathan, I can see it in his eyes--" She raised her hand and stroked her fingers down his cheek. "Let the pain go, we still have our son and if its meant to be that we have another then we will. But if not--" A warm smile came to her face. "I have a wonderful son and a husband I love more than life itself."

"I don't deserve you." He said softly, embracing her. Jonathan touched her hair gently, his eyes bright with emotion.

Clark lay in bed with his eyes open and his hands tucked behind his head as he stared at ceiling. Sleep had escaped him for the past hour now, thinking about Caitlin's father and what might happen if he should find her at the farm. He wasn't afraid to use his powers in front of her because she obviously wasn't fearful of them (for which he was glad) but if worst came to worst and Caitlin's father tried to hurt her, Clark knew he would react with anger, even fury.

Does this mean I'm in love with her? Clark thought. How can that be when I've only known her for a couple of weeks? Or is it just a need to protect her because she seems so vulnerable?

Clark sighed and dropped an arm over his eyes, knowing what had to be done. He couldn't wait for Caitlin's father to find her here . . . . he would have to go looking for Dr. Cole before he tried to nab Caitlin again.

Miles away, in a basement laboratory in Metropolis, Dr. Fletcher Cole was bent over his medical journal, his handwriting shaky from the pain his cancer caused.

Attempt to reclaim my daughter failed, He wrote, But events I witnessed during attempt amazing. A young man my daughter's age fought with Ace, taking a blow to the side of the face that would have broken the jaw of most men. Teen did not react however until a small vial of liquid meteor-rock struck him and shattered. Liquid seemed to cause him pain by burning his skin, although it is well known that this rock in it's natural state is harmless. Must find out more . . . Dr. Cole paused here as fit of coughing seized him, and he doubled over as the spasm wracked his body.

He wiped bloody foam from his mouth with a handkerchief as the fit passed and continued writing.

I know there is a link between a cure and these meteor rocks, and this boy may be the link I have been searching for.

Dr. Cole set down his pen and grinned an awful grin. "It's time for another visit to Smallville." He rasped.

Three days later, Jonathan awoke to a fall morning that was so crisp and perfect that he rose from his bed earlier than usual. The first pinks and purples of dawn were just starting to show as he slipped into a pair of jeans, t-shirt and a red checked flannel shirt. He pulled on his boots, kissed his sleeping wife, and headed downstairs. The coffee maker was just starting to bubble and Jonathan yanked the decanter out from under the stream of coffee to replace it with his cup. When it was full he replaced the decanter without spilling a drop, a practice perfected after many years. He gulped the coffee down, rinsed his cup and went outside.

The morning was brisk and cold, and Jonathan rubbed his hands together with a grin as he anticipated an early morning on Rebel, his sorrel quarter horse, before chores. Whistling, he headed to the barn.

As Jonathan slid the barn door open, a pair of eyes watched from the shadows of the retreating night. Hands, clad in black leather gloves, twisted a dial on a small gray box they held. A muffled explosion sounded in the distance, and the eyes watched with satisfaction as the two cop cars staking out the Kent farm pulled out and cruised down the lane to investigate. They would find nothing but a burned out metal trash can, but of course by the time they returned the watcher would be long gone with his prize.

Dressed in black jeans and a black sweater and ski mask to cover his face, the watcher crept towards the barn with a practiced, silent step. He could hear the tall blond man whistling, and the sounds of animals. He paused to pull a bottle and a handkerchief from his pocket, then uncapped the bottle and poured some colorless liquid onto the handkerchief. Capping the bottle and slipping it back into his pocket, he padded into the barn.

The blond man's back was to him as he filled buckets with grain, and he was still whistling. Silently, the watcher slipped up behind him and snaked an arm around his neck, slamming the soaked cloth over his nose and mouth. The horses in the barn began to snort and whiney anxiously as he struggled.

"Dr. Cole has some plans in mind for you and for your son too!" Ace laughed in Jonathan's ear as he tightened his hold around Jonathan's neck forcing him to breathe in the chloroform.

"Suck it in, suck it in and soon you'll be fast asleep!"

"Mmphh!" Jonathan gasped, his head seeming to fill with air as his vision blurred. His boots drummed briefly against the aisle's stone surface, then he went limp in his assailant's arms.

The sun was just starting to peek over the barn roof when Clark awoke to the sound of frantic knocking at his bedroom door. He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

"C'mon in." He yawned, and looked up, startled, as his mom rushed in.

"Clark, have you seen your father? I can't find him anywhere!"

"Dad? No . . . I just woke up." Clark stood, pulling up his grey sweats as he got up and pulled on a sweatshirt. "Did you look in the barn?"

Martha glanced over her shoulder at the open door, wringing her hands together. "I went out to the barn thinking he'd be there but all I found was the grain buckets--" Her face was branded by the cold and she crossed her arms over her maroon fleece jacket trying to quiet her trembling. "It-- it looks like they were knocked over."

Clark stepped into his sneakers and laced them quickly. "Don't worry mom, maybe he was out back in the shed and didn't hear you calling for him. I'll go look, okay?" He kissed her cheek as he walked out.

When Clark reached the barn the horses were pawing the floors of their stalls in hunger and the cows were calling to be milked. He took a moment to soothe the animals, then looked around. There were two buckets of grain on the low shelf near the bins, one full and upright, the other half-full but spilled on the ground. A cold finger of fear pressed into Clark's heart and he glanced around. There was no sign of a struggle. "Dad?" He called, but got only silence for a reply. He looked into all the stalls in case his father had maybe been kicked or knocked down, but there was no sign of him. Clark swallowed hard and looked down at the spilled grain again. His eyes widened suddenly and he backed away a few steps, peering at the pile.

It hadn't been scattered, and about three inches from where Clark stood were two small parallel grooves that petered out at the edge of the pile.

Drag marks . . . he thought in dismay, turning and running back into the house.

"Mom! Caitlin!" He called, bolting through the kitchen door.

"What is it Clark?" Martha met him, seeing his frightened expression. Caitlin stood in the kitchen with his mother, wearing the borrowed pink bathroom; she too looked upset and fearful.

"I think something happened to dad. He's not out there at all, and I found drag marks in the spilled grain in the barn." Clark turned and glanced out the window. "Where's the Sheriff and her men? Weren't they supposed to be watching us?"

"I don't know they're supposed to be outside--" Martha walked through the living room and opened the front door, seeing the patrol cars gone. The fact it was gone only made her close her eyes in dismay. "Jonathan--" She whispered.

Clark turned to Caitlin, and saw the truth in her eyes. "No-" He said desperately, but Caitlin nodded. Clark gave a short, angry yell and bolted up the stairs to his room, where he upended his backpack. Books, pens and papers fell out, and Clark gave it a savage shake to make sure it was empty before he began shoving clothes into it. Caitlin appeared at the doorway a moment later but he ignored her, stuffing jeans and t shirts and socks into the already overloaded pack.

"You can't go after him Clark, it's too dangerous. He's got that liquid kryptonite--" She stepped into the room reaching out to touch his backpack.

"I don't care!" Clark shouted, his eyes blazing almost the color of the meteor rock that could do him so much harm. "He's got my dad, Caitlin!"

"Well I do care Clark--" She took his hands and held them in hers. "I care about you and your father too." Caitlin looked up into his face. "I don't want anything to happen to either one of you."

"I'm going after him." Clark said, looking her in the eye. "He's killed people before, and if he thinks it'll bring you to him, he'll kill my dad too. I'm not going to let that happen, meteor rocks or no."

"But how Clark? How are you going to find him?"

Clark went to his desk and glanced down at the printout that Lex had given him earlier, along with a copy of an old newspaper article about Dr. Cole. "With the help of an old friend." He said softly.

"Clark, you said we're going to see an old friend of yours and that he might be able to help you. Who is it?" Caitlin asked, and Clark rounded a long bend in the road.

"You'll see." He replied, and a moment later was pulling up to the Luthor mansion. Caitlin's eyes went round at the sight of the huge building.

"When you said an old friend I didn't think you meant Hugh Heffner!" She exclaimed. Clark smiled and hopped out of the pickup, then opened her door. "I didn't. Come on."

"So whose house is this?" Caitlin asked as she studied the stone structure with curiosity as they approached the pair of double doors.

"That would be mine--" Lex stood leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his black silk shirt. "I've been expecting you Clark."

He saw the young woman and moved away from the door, holding out his hand. "And this must be the enchanting Miss Tollivar?" He shook her hand gently. "Lex Luthor, pleasure to meet you."

"Caitlin—call me Caitlin please--" Her bluish grey eyes widened a little, she had always heard about the infamous Lex Luthor but had never met him in person. Despite his bald head she found him handsome, Lex dressed all in black.

"Caitlin, then. Charmed. Please, come in." He stepped back so Clark and Caitlin could enter, then he glanced back at Clark.  "I assumed you'd be coming alone Clark--" Both men walked together but then Lex reached out and grabbed Clark's arm widening the distance between them and Caitlin. "What I've got to show you I don't think she should see."

"She's a lot tougher than she looks, Lex. Besides this involves her too."

Lex leaned closer to Clark, glancing at Caitlin briefly. "I can see that Clark but seeing the photos of your dead mother will make even the toughest young woman cower."

Clark's eyes widened. "You have the crime scene photos? Lex, how did you get them?" Clark asked quietly.

"Money and power buys you lots of friends Clark, among them the Chief of the Metropolis Police Department."

"Oh." Clark bit his lower lip for a moment, then shook his head. "She's not going to let me do this alone Lex, pictures or no pictures."

"Then she's not only tough, she's smart--" Lex patted Clark on the back; his smile faded when he saw Caitlin whip around and glare at them both.

"All right what are you two whispering about?"

"Uh- nothing!" Clark replied, then flinched as Caitlin's eyes narrowed. "I mean . . . well-" He glanced helplessly at Lex, asking for help.

"We were discussing you Caitlin, Clark was just saying how intelligent you are--" Lex grinned as he watched Caitlin's face grow red.

"What Lex means-" Clark interrupted as he thumped Lex's ribcage soundly with one elbow, "is that I really want you to help me find my father, but neither of us want to see you hurt."

"Yes of course that's what I meant--" Lex rubbed his side a little as they made it to the double doors of his office. "If you'll just step inside we can discuss finding Mr. Kent further."

"We have to find him quick, Lex." Clark said as they went into Lex's spacious office.

"Yes time is of the essence Clark, hopefully these will help--" Lex picked up a blue folded from his desk and opened it, handing some papers to his friend. The photos of the crime scene were also there but he kept them in the folder, not wanting to upset Caitlin.

Clark looked the papers over. "So the last known whereabouts of his lab was in East Metropolis." The tall youth shook his head, his eyes troubled. "It's a big city Lex, are you sure this information is current?"

"Of course it is, I got this from an equipment sales company. Someone ordered a large freezer unit and it was delivered to this address. Given Fletcher Cole's business it'd make sense he'd need a big enough freezer."

A shudder twisted through Clark at the thought of his father being in the hands of a man who sold people's flesh and blood like a common butcher. "I see." He said in a rather strangled voice.

"Hopefully Clark you won't have too--" Lex rounded his desk and put a hand on his friend's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Caitlin agreed, nodding her head. She saw the folder and the edges of what looked like a photograph sticking out of it. "What's this Lex?"

She pulled the photo out and saw her mother strapped to a large machine, the woman's head lolled to one side and there were needles sticking out all over her body.

"Oh God! Mom!" She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Caitlin, don't-" Lex began, and reached for the photo.

Caitlin staggered forward, her hip bumping the corner of the desk. The blue folder fell to the floor, spilling out a dozen more photos. Clark saw them and blanched, then recovered quickly. He bent down and scooped them up against his chest so Caitlin couldn't see them.

She stared at the picture, the look of absolute horror on her face. Tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her face. "What did he do to her?"

"Don't look at it anymore, Caitlin. Here, give it to me." Clark said, holding his hand out.

"I want to see the others Clark--" She raised her face to look at him, the wet marks shining down her cheeks. "I want to see what he did to my mother."

"No." Clark said flatly, backing away. He'd only glimpsed the photos when he'd picked them up, but even that brief glance had been enough to turn his stomach. "You don't need to see them, Caitlin."

She swallowed hard, stretching out a shaking hand that contained the photo to Clark. "He's going to do the same thing to your father if we don't stop him."

Clark took it gently without looking at it. "Then we'd better hurry." He then turned to Lex. 

"Can you take a ride out to the farm and make sure my mom's okay, Lex? Don't tell her where we went, because she'll only want to follow us and I don't want her in danger. Tell her we're okay though, so she won't worry. Okay?"

"You really shouldn't be doing this without the police Clark, this man is dangerous--" He saw the determined look in his friend's eyes and knew his words wouldn't sway him. "All right, I'll check on your mother and make sure she's all right."

"Thanks." Clark patted Lex's shoulder and tossed the photos on his desk before taking Caitlin's hand. "Come on. Judging by those photos, I don't think my dad has a lot of time."

The first thing that occurred to Jonathan Kent as consciousness returned to him was that he was unable to move his arms or his legs. As he opened his eyes carefully to see why, he saw a hunched and skinny man with long scraggly gray hair standing over him. As the rest of his senses returned, Jonathan realized that he couldn't move because his entire body was shackled to a metal table with heavy steel bands at the wrists, ankles, and mid-chest. He looked up at the scrawny man, who gave him a sneering smile.

"Welcome to Metropolis Mr. Kent--" He quickly pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to his mouth, coughing a little into it and taking a deep painful breath before continuing.

"Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Fletcher Cole, I do believe you have someone very precious to me at your farm--" Cole stared at the bound man, his dull grey eyes gazing at him.

"Caitlin . . . your Caitlin's father?" Jonathan asked, testing the strength of the steel clamps. They were thick and tight. He watched the doctor turn away for a moment, then turn back with a metal tray full of what looked like IV tubing and a half a dozen hypodermic needles. "Look, I don't know what you want from her-"

"Yes I am, but I was referring to your son Mr. Kent, your son is who I find precious--" Cole rolled the tray closer to the table and began hiking up Jonathan's t-shirt.

"Clark? What do you want with him?" Jonathan asked as he tried to struggle away from the other man.

"I've seen what the liquefied meteor rock does to him, I saw first hand! He's exactly what I need to find a cure for my cancer--" Jonathan's shirt now all the way up to his neck, Cole picked up several alcohol pads and began swabbing him down from his collarbone to his navel.

"You leave my son alone!" Jonathan shouted, wincing as the cold pads swished over his bare skin. "What are you doing?" He asked hoarsely.

"You won't be having to worry about him much longer Mr. Kent--" Cole picked up a syringe, showing it to the bound man, it was empty. "I'm going to put these in you and then hook them up to my machine--" Before Jonathan could protest, Cole stuck the first one into his stomach, quickly followed by a second one just under his rib cage.

Jonathan cried out in pain and his back arched, allowing Dr. Cole to stab two more needles into him, one in each kidney. The pain took most of the fight out of Jonathan and he lay there gasping.

"You think you know pain Mr. Kent? Just wait until the liquid meteor rock flows through these needles straight into your body. Then you will know the true meaning of pain--" He inserted the last needle into his captive, Jonathan now looking like a human pin cushion. Another coughing fit hit Cole and he swayed against it, covering his mouth with a handkerchief; the blood seeping through it. When he regained control of his breathing he straightened up.

"Now if you'll excuse me Mr. Kent, I must see to your son."

"No!" Jonathan panted, clenching his teeth against the pain the needles caused. "No . . . you leave . . . him . . . alone, damn it!"

"We've already been through this, I'm bringing your son here and there's little you can do about it--" Cole turned around and left the room, leaving his captive struggling on the metal table.

Night was falling in Metropolis as Clark and Caitlin stepped off a bus at the city's bus station. People milled about and Caitlin pulled out the city map that Lex had given them.

"According to this, the lab is eight blocks that way!" Caitlin pointed in the direction and showed the map to Clark. "Right or am I reading this thing wrong?"

Clark glanced at the map, then at the street signs at the intersection where they stood. "No, that's right. I just hope Lex is right too. Come on." Clark took her hand and they began walking. "Walk as if you've got somewhere to go, and don't look anyone in the eye." He advised, drawing on advice his father had given him about how to act in large cities.

"Yeah, good idea--" Caitlin gripped Clark's hand tightly trying not to act afraid. She did as he said though and avoided eye contact with the people they passed.

The buildings got shabbier and more decrepit as they walked the streetlights less frequent. Finally, they came to a building that had once been painted a chocolate brown but was now peeling and run-down. Some of the windows were boarded up, the others broken by rocks or bricks. Caitlin shook her head.

"It looks deserted, Clark."

Clark nodded. "I'm sure that's the impression your dad's trying to give." He took a deep breath. "Caitlin . . . you should stay here."

"No Clark, I'm coming with you!" Caitlin stared up into his face, keeping a grip on his hand. "Please, don't leave me here."

"Your father knows that you know about what really happened to your mom." Clark said earnestly. "I don't he'd hesitate to get rid of you too, if it would protect his secret."

"And if my father finds out about your secret Clark he'll stop at nothing to use you," she reached up and touched his face gently. "I can't let him do that."

And your father might be dying while you stand here arguing, a little voice urged in his head, and he relented. "All right. You can come with me, but promise me you'll be careful!"

"I'll be careful Clark and even though you don't need to promise--" She trailed off looking at him, waiting for him to promise that he'd be careful too.

"I will." He said, and gave her lips a brief kiss before glancing up at the building. "It's a fair guess to say that your dad probably has booby traps in there, so how do we get in?"

Caitlin studied the dilapidated building; she spotted the black wrought iron fire escape and pointed to it. "It goes all the way to the top Clark, if I know my dad that's where his lab must be."

"Maybe . . . it's definitely our way in though. Come on." Clark jumped up with ease and grabbed the bottom run of the ladder, then stretched his hand down to Caitlin. "Grab my hand and I'll pull you up."

Caitlin saw the distance to Clark's outstretched hand; it was quite a ways but despite that she had to try. She stepped back, bounced a few paces then up on the balls of her feet grasping upwards, their wrists clasping.

"Good girl!" Clark grinned and pulled her up as if she weighed no more than a feather. She grabbed onto a rung, and Clark looked down at her. "Step where I step if you can, okay?"

"Okay--" She got to her feet carefully, the rusty fire escape creaking in protest at the combined weight of both teenagers. "Oh I hope this thing holds--" Gazing down at the slick asphalt, her heart raced at the big distance between where she stood and the ground.  

"Just move carefully but not too slow either." Clark advised, shimmying up the rungs with that odd grace that seemed to be part of his abilities. He reached the third floor and glanced down to check on Caitlin's progress, impressed when he saw she wasn't far behind him. "You're doing fine!" He called to her, and turned back to the ladder. He pulled himself to keep climbing when there was a metallic clanging noise from above his head. He looked up and his eyes widened as he saw a barrage of razor-sharp scalpels hurtling towards them.

"Caitlin!" He shouted, and let go of the rung he was holding onto as he pushed himself backwards. Caitlin saw the scalpels falling and cried out in alarm, knowing that if she attempted to shield herself, she would fall. Clark lashed out with his right hand and grabbed onto the rung above the one that Caitlin clung to and pressed her into the side of the building, shielding her with his body. The scalpels bounced harmlessly off of him as they struck his body and fell to the pavement below them.

She cringed, any moment she expected to feel the scalpels hit her and she squeezed her eyes shut making herself as small as possible against the wet brick. Finally the tinkling of the metal instruments striking the ground rang out and she risked opening her eyes.

"Are they—gone?"

"Yeah, they're gone." Clark straightened up and glanced up at the roof, still some seven floors above them. "Caitlin, maybe you'd better wait here while I go up to the roof and make sure there's no more booby traps like that, okay?"

"No Clark, I'm not being left behind--" She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her body trembling from the unexpected trap.

"I'm not leaving you behind; I'm just asking you to wait until I get to the roof! Once I make sure there's no more traps, I'll let you know that it's safe, okay?"

Staring into his eyes Caitlin reached out and ran her hand along the tops of his shoulders; where the scalpels had probably hit him. She expected to find the blue flannel wet with blood or at least sliced from the sharp blades. Of course there was nothing, not even a scratch only Clark's warm skin.

"You really are amazing Clark--" She whispered and then nodded. "All right I'll stay here."

"Okay. Don't move, and I'll be right back." Clark assured her, and climbed the last seven floors in less than five seconds. He vaulted up onto the roof and crouched defensively, waiting for another attack. When none came he relaxed slightly and glanced around. He saw a metal box hanging over the side of the wall that was attached to a nearby rope, the source of the shower of scalpels. Besides that the roof was empty except for a thick metal access door over to one side that was padlocked and chained. Clark turned and peered over the side of the building at Caitlin, who was barely visible in the darkness. "It's okay!" He called to her. "Come on up . .  .do you want me to help you?"

"I think I can make it--" Caitlin started up, making her steps slow but not too much. She glanced up and saw that Clark wasn't too far above. "Almost there--" She whispered to herself as she started up another flight of steps. That's when the bolts holding the wrought iron to the side of the building snapped, the staircase swaying as it started to come away from the bricks. Caitlin gasped as she gripped the handrails, staring up at Clark with frightened eyes.

"Clark!"

"Caitlin!" He shouted, trying to reach for her. She was well out of his reach and moving further away as the staircase peeled away from the side of the building. He grabbed the uppermost part of it as it began to fall away from him and Caitlin cried out in fear as the last bolt screamed free and she clung to the staircase that was now completely broken away from the building. Clark gripped it tightly in both hands as he pulled it up against the side of the building. "Come on!" He yelled. "Keep climbing!"

Only dazed for a moment, Caitlin calmed down enough and on trembling legs quickly raced up the remaining flights of stairs stepping out onto the roof. She panted hard mostly out of fright as she bent over a little trying to control her breathing.

"Are you okay?" Clark asked as he dropped the mangled staircase and it fell to the pavement far below with a huge jangling crash. "Caitlin?"

She raised her tear stained face to look at Clark, her lower lip trembling.

"Clark--" Caitlin straightened up and wrapped her arms around his midsection burying her face against his grey t-shirt.

Clark hugged her tightly. "Well . . . if you weren't afraid of heights before, I bet you are now huh?" He lifted her chin and smiled at her, hoping for the same reaction.

Caitlin blinked at him, the question distracting enough to calm her down and dry up her tears. She stared into his face seeing his playful grin. She felt the laughter well up inside her and finally released it, wiping her cheeks with trembling hands.

"Maybe—but I won't be as long as you're good at playing catch."

Clark chuckled, impressed by her bravery. "I'll do my best." He took her hand and led her over to the access door. "Here's where we get in." He said, and gripped the chains in his right hand, crumbling them as if they were made of dried mud and not steel. He yanked the padlock aside and shoved the heavy door open. It led to a series of concrete stairs, and Clark snorted softly.

"Great, more stairs. Well, at least they're not hanging in midair, right?" Caitlin smiled and nodded and he squeezed her hand. "Let's go."

The concrete stairs, while a good deal more sturdier than the fire escape, were old, cracked, and in some cases slimed with moss where year after year of rains had leaked into the building. Clark held Caitlin's hand tightly as they descended. Once in awhile they came across a door, but Clark could see with his X-ray vision that the rooms behind them were empty.

"Anything so far?" Caitlin asked as she watched him narrow his eyes a bit. The building was dank and smelled like must and dust, the sound of dripping water could be heard as they moved through the darkened halls as quietly as they could.

"No, all these rooms are empty." Clark told her as they reached the ground floor, and he glanced up at a rusted tin sign that was shaped like an arrow and pointed down a flight of stairs that were even more dilapidated and moss-covered. The writing on the sign was mostly obscured by rust, but Clark could make out the letters BAS. He turned to Caitlin. "The basement's this way. Just keep hold of my hand, okay?"

"Okay, believe me I don't plan on letting go without a very good reason--" Caitlin swallowed hard as she tightened her grip on Clark's hand. "He's down there Clark I just know he is--" The very thought of coming face to face with her father again made her heart speed up in her chest.

Clark could sense her fear and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I know, and he's got my dad." Caitlin saw anger flash across his face before he turned towards the staircase.

"We'll get him back Clark, somehow we're going to stop my father."

The stairs were slick with moisture and the air in the stairwell was thick with it. Clark peered into the darkness as they walked down step by cautious step, his eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness. Once he saw a rat scurry past them and he held his breath, hoping that Caitlin hadn't seen or heard it. Despite her bravery so far, Clark knew that most people, be they girls or boys, were frightened of rats. It passed them without incident, and Clark exhaled in relief. "Are you okay back there?" He asked.

"Yeah I'm all right, but my knees are shaking--" Caitlin heard a noise that sounded like a bat and gasped, looking around.

"It's okay; it's probably just a pigeon or a bat. It won't hurt us." Clark assured her, hoping he sounded convincing. His right foot finally touched down on solid ground and he peered ahead to see a concrete archway that was thick with moss. "We're almost there." He whispered, tugging her forward gently. "Come on."

Caitlin swallowed hard, her throat feeling dry as they passed under the archway. Her father could be behind the next door they saw and the thought of that made her knees shake even more.

"Maybe Lex was wrong," She said softly. "Maybe he-" Her words were suddenly cut off by a heavy metallic sound and Clark screamed in the darkness as his hand was torn away from hers.

"Clark!" She cried, and suddenly the hallway was lit by an eerie green glow. She blinked, her eyesight adjusting, and gasped in horror when she saw Clark writhing on the ground in a mass of heavy steel chains that were coated with liquid kryptonite.

"Oh my God!" Caitlin dropped to her knees beside him and tried to get the chains off of Clark. The links were as big as her hands and she pulled in a vain attempt to free him.

Clark squirmed under the weight of the chains, the kryptonite burning his skin and sending lances of pain through his entire body. He looked up at Caitlin helplessly, and then a thick chuckle came through the darkness.

"And so the spider catches the fly." The disembodied voice taunted as Caitlin tugged at the thick chains that held Clark prisoner.

"Clark! I can't move them! They're too heavy!" She gritted her teeth and pulled with all her might.

"No . . . run . . . " Clark managed to say through the haze of pain, but it was too late. The big man who Clark had fought with in the alley behind The Talon came up behind Caitlin and grabbed her around the waist. He clamped a hand over her mouth as she screamed, and then a bent, stooped figure came shambling out of the darkness. He loomed over Clark like a buzzard waiting for a wounded animal to cease its struggles and give in to the inevitable. "Welcome, Clark. We've been waiting for you."

"Let Caitlin . . . go." Clark panted. "She's not . . . a part of this!"

"Oh but she is--" Fletcher Cole leaned over Clark, letting him see his sickly, pale face. "She knows my secret and that alone makes her a threat to me. But I must thank her for it not for her you wouldn't be here and frankly Clark you are the most important thing in the world right now to me."

The doctor clapped his hands together and two more big men came out of the darkness to take hold of the chains and drag Clark into a large room off to one side of the archway. Unlike the other rooms, this one was clean and well lit. Clark looked around weakly and saw Caitlin tied to a chair in a corner, imprisoned but unhurt. And in the other corner-

"No!" Clark shouted his eyes wide with horror and disbelief when he saw his father. Jonathan seemed half-conscious and from his body protruded nearly a dozen needles which were hooked up to some awful-looking machine. The two burly bodyguards lifted Clark up and laid him on a table, securing his wrists and ankles with manacles that were also coated with kryptonite.

"A family reunion—how touching this is. You're reunited with your father Clark and I'm reunited with my daughter, how happy things have turned out so far!" Cole went over to the table where Jonathan was and leaned down close to him; a cold, wicked grin on his face.

"Jonathan—do you see who I have? Your son and my daughter have now joined the party."

Jonathan turned his head and saw his son strapped to a metal table . . . his worst nightmare come true. "Clark . . . " He called weakly, and everything in the room went gray as the pain of the needles in his body made him drift back into semi-consciousness.

"That's right Jonathan, I have your son now and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it--" He straightened back up and went over to his daughter, staring down at her.

"And as for you, as soon as I'm done with the Kent's you and I need to have a serious discussion."

Caitlin's lips pressed into a thin grim line. "I've got nothing to say to you!"

The doctor scowled at her. "You sound like your mother, and we know what happened to her, don't we?" The threat in his raspy voice was plain as he brought out a leather valise from a nearby cupboard. He opened it to reveal a collection of gleaming surgical tools which he set on a metal tray next to the table where Clark was trapped. "I've seen what you can do, my boy." He croaked, glaring down at Clark with bloodshot brown eyes. "And once I saw you it all made sense. I knew that the key to the cure for my cancer lay in the meteor rocks, but now I see the truth. If the kryptonite can hurt you but have no effect on my illness, then your blood and bodily fluids will do just the opposite!"

Caitlin thought of Clark's secret and her father's words made sense. Clark's powers would cure her father's illness and probably prolong his life but she saw the butcher kit he was laying out and shook her head.

"No Dad! Leave him alone!"

"The power lies within his blood, my dear girl." Dr. Cole said feverishly as he picked up a scalpel. "Of course, I cannot have the kryptonite affecting him while I do the dissection. It would do too much damage to the precious liquid inside him." He set the scalpel aside and smiled down at Clark in an oddly paternal manner. "Of course, I anticipated the idea that once I freed you, you would no doubt try to escape. That's where Mr. Kent comes in. You see, Clark," Dr. Cole explained as he freed Clark from the manacles, "the needles that you see in your father's body are connected to that machine. With a flick of any number of those switches, liquid kryptonite will flood into his body and instantly dissolve whatever major organ the needle is embedded into. It will then draw it out, and store it in those tanks below the machine until I can find a buyer for it. In short, my dear boy, if you so much as lift a finger to me or my bodyguards, I will flip one of those switches and your father is a dead man."

"I understand--" Clark stared up into Cole's face, his blue green eyes flashing and his jaw clenched. The affects the kryptonite was having on his body began to fade and he felt his strength returning but he couldn't risk his father's life.

"Good lad. Now lie back." He told Clark, who did so. He motioned one of the bodyguards forward, and Clark's stomach clenched when he saw that the man carried a jar of glowing green liquid. Dr. Cole strapped Clark's hands to the table with thick leather restraints as the bodyguard set the jar down on the metal table. "I must admit it pains me to have to destroy you, my boy, but my research may very well find an end to not only my cancer, but others just like it!"

"Clark--" Caitlin muttered to herself feeling completely helpless. She tugged at the ropes that bound her to the arms of the chairs. If only there was something she could do-- She leaned forward and started biting at the knots, maybe she could get one of them free.

Clark's eyes widened in fear as Dr. Cole dipped his gleaming scalpel into the jar of liquid kryptonite; coating the blade and making it glow. A moment later it was slicing into the skin of his chest, cutting him deeply. He screamed in agony, and Dr. Cole collected the blood that ran from the wound with a small vacuum tube that was connected to a large vial. Clark's scream roused Jonathan, who began to struggle. "You son of a bitch!" He cried. "Stop it, you're hurting him!"

Hearing Clark's scream sent a shudder through Caitlin; she managed to get one rope untied and shook her wrist free. Quickly untying her other arm and both legs she picked up the chair she sat in and hit the back of the one burly bodyguard that had grabbed him, knocking him to the floor. She grabbed her father by the shoulder and spun him around, gripping the wrist that contained the scalpel, trying to get it as far away from Clark as possible.

"No!" Dr. Cole panted, slapping Caitlin's face hard with his free hand. "You will not interfere!" He shoved her back and reached for the switches on his machine. "Get back or Mr. Kent's blood is on your hands!"

The blow rocked Caitlin hard and it took her a moment to recover. The whole side of her face stung and tears formed in her eyes as she touched her burning cheek. She reluctantly backed off and was quickly grabbed by the big man she had hit with the chair.

Clark watched the doctor turn back to him with the glowing scalpel in his hand and his heart began to pound. He's going to dissect me alive if I don't do something . . . he thought, and then the solution came to him. If warm blood was what Dr. Cole needed, then Clark would simply deny him. He gave a low moan and let his head fall to one side as he willed himself to quit fighting the effects of the kryptonite that edged his chest wound. A moment later his breathing slowed, then stopped.

"No . . . NO!" Dr. Cole roared hoarsely as he realized that his patient had ceased to breathe, and quickly undid the straps that bound Clark's hands. "Quick you fools . . . help me!" He barked at his bodyguards. "I haven't the strength to perform CPR! Quickly!" He hissed as the two men, having been trained in CRP by the doctor, came forward to assist.

"Clark?" Caitlin watched his chest waiting for any signs of him breathing. She saw that it wasn't moving at all and a finger of panic pressed into her heart.

"Oh no--" Her eyes began to burn as tears filled them and she took a deep hitching breath. "You killed him! You killed him with the kryptonite!"

Dr. Cole shook his head numbly. "I . . . I didn't think it would happen this quickly . . ." He struck one of the men with a piece of plastic tubing, urging him to move faster. "Hurry you fools! He's no good to me dead!"

The two men, fearing the insane doctor's wrath, leaned over the dead boy quickly. As they reached down, the corpse suddenly came to life, grabbing the backs of their necks and bringing their heads together with enough force to knock them both unconscious. Dr. Cole yelled out in alarm as Clark rose from the table, fire in his blue-green eyes. He turned to his machine, meaning to flip the switches that would kill Jonathan Kent. Clark chased him, the wound in his chest now healing rapidly.

"No!" He snarled, knocking the doctor to one side. "Caitlin, try and help my dad!" He called, then ducked to one side as Dr. Cole came at him with the kryptonite-coated scalpel.

Caitlin brought her leg up behind her, hitting the man that had a hold of her right between his legs. He grunted and dropped her to the floor, his hands going to his wounded crotch. She picked up a piece of broken chair and hit the kneeling man as hard as she could across the face with the arm. The wood broke in her hands as it struck the man and his eyes rolled back into his head as he fell forward. Caitlin heart was pounding as she went over to the table that Jonathan was strapped to and looked down at him.

"I'm sorry for having to do this Mr. Kent--" She winced as her fingers curled around one of the syringes and pulled it out.

Jonathan gritted his teeth against the bolt of pain that accompanied the removal of the needle and looked up at Caitlin through a haze of disorientation. "Clark . . . is he all right?" He asked weakly, unable to even turn his head.

"He was pretending to be dead and now he's fighting with my father--" Caitlin saw another needle and looked down apologetically again at Jonathan before plucking it out.

"Help him . . . the both of you, get out of here." Jonathan mumbled, his muscles contracting with pain as the young girl pulled needle after needle out of his body.

"He told me to help you--" A needle was protruding from the side of his ribcage and she pulled it out, hoping that'd make it easier for him to breathe.

"He said he'd kill you both . . ." Jonathan groaned, then cried out as Caitlin pulled a needle from his abdomen. Things went gray around the edges for a moment, and he hovered between consciousness and oblivion.

On the other side of the room, Clark ducked and weaved as Dr. Cole attempted to slice him with the glowing scalpel. Clark was still feeling weak from the kryptonite's effects, but his strength was quickly returning. He sidestepped as Cole slashed at him again, glancing back to check on Caitlin. She was pulling needles from his father's body, and Clark prayed it wasn't too late.

"Hurry, Caitlin!" He shouted, then frowned at the look of horror that had suddenly dawned on her face.

"Clark, look out!" She screamed, and Clark turned back to Dr. Cole in time to see him scoop up the jar of kryptonite and hurl its contents towards him. Clark roared in pain as he ducked but wasn't able to avoid it completely. Part of it splashed against his shoulder and Clark stumbled to his knees near the metal table as he tried to wipe the stuff away.

Dr. Cole's face twisted into a hellish grin of victory as he curled his hand around the glowing scalpel once more. "I'm going to take you apart piece by piece, boy!" He rasped as he shambled towards Clark. Clark tried to get to his feet but was unable to rise. As the doctor came towards him with murder in his crazy eyes, Clark saw his only chance. He gathered what strength he had and raised his right hand, then brought it down with all the force he could manage, striking the edge of the metal tray. The tray rose up sharply, as did Dr. Cole's sharp dissecting instruments. They flew forward like arrows and struck the doctor in his chest and belly as he approached Clark. They stuck deep in his flesh, quivering with the impact.

Dr. Cole's expression changed from one of victory to disbelief as he looked down at the metal embedded in his body. That expression froze there as the scalpel fell from his hand. Clark watched, and he realized a moment too late what was about to happen. It seemed to happen in slow motion, as things did when he moved at super-speed. The doctor's dying body crumpled then fell against the control board of his machine. As he slid down, several of the switches were pulled forward.

"No!" Clark shouted as he leapt forward faster than the human eye could follow. He watched the glowing green liquid race down the tubes of the machine, racing it for his father's life. There were still better than half a dozen needles embedded in his father's body, and Clark reached forward to yank them out. He pulled two from his chest, two from his abdomen, and several from his neck as the liquid flowed down, a part of his mind questioning how the doctor had managed to turn kryptonite into something that was deadly to humans. He threw the needles aside, then turned to Caitlin.  The expression on her face was one of panic and dismay and she was moving towards him, her hands outstretched. He sensed she was trying to reach his dad, not him, and turned back towards the machine. As he turned, he saw some thin tubing that ran from the machine to down underneath his dad's back. Clark put his hands on Jonathan's shoulders, meaning to roll him over and yank the two remaining needles from his lower back but as he touched his father the liquid kryptonite flooded Jonathan's kidneys, destroying them almost instantly.

"Clark!" Caitlin cried as Jonathan's body arched in a frenzy of agony. His eyes rolled and his whole body shook as if it were being electrocuted. A moment later the tubing on the other side of the machine ran with a pinkish-red fluid, and Clark moaned in disgust and grief. He knelt down next to Jonathan and touched his head.

"Dad . . . dad hold on-" He looked back at the machine, then at Caitlin. "Turn it off!" He shouted.

Caitlin ran over to the large console and began flipping switches and slapping buttons. She watched Jonathan for any change and hit a few more; a shower of sparks bursting out as she covered her face and turned away. Finally the droning that filled the room seemed to quiet down and she risked uncovering her face. "I think I got it!"

Clark turned back to his father. Jonathan was half-conscious but dying, and Clark shook his head helplessly. "No . . . no no no." He half-whispered, and Jonathan's eyes focused on him for a moment. "Clark . . . are . . . you . . .okay, son?" He asked thinly, his voice breaking with pain. Clark nodded, tears filling his eyes. "Yeah. We're okay, dad. Just hang on; you're going to be fine too. We'll call an ambulance."

Jonathan managed a smile. "Right." He nodded, and put a shaking hand on the side of Clark's face. "It's not . . . your fault, Clark. I would rather die . . . now, then to live another fifty years . . .  and have you . . . dead on that table." Another shudder twisted through him and his heart hesitated. "It'll . . . be . . . okay, son. It'll . . . be . . . " Jonathan's hand fell away from Clark's face and banged flatly against the side of the table as his head fell to one side, his dark blue eyes going wide and blank.

"Dad?" Clark asked desperately, leaning forward slightly and shaking Jonathan's shoulder.

"Dad?"

"Clark--" Caitlin's voice was a tiny squeak as she approached the table watching Jonathan's chest. It didn't rise and fall and she squeezed her eyes shut not wanting to believe it. She reached out and gently closed Jonathan's eyes, swallowing hard.

Clark got to his feet and turned away from her, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. She could see him trembling.

Caitlin walked around the table and curled her hand around Clark's. It felt like iron and she gave it a squeeze not knowing what she could possibly say.

He tore away from her, giving a loud, wordless shout of rage. He rushed Dr. Cole's machine and attacked it with both fists, denting the metal as if it were clay. Nuts and bolts and other assorted machine parts went flying, and Clark gave another snarl of rage as he yanked the tubing away from the wreckage. Caitlin ran towards him, frightened that in his rage he might splatter himself with kryptonite and get hurt.

"Clark! Stop it!" She gripped both his fists with her hands and pulled him a little towards her, seeing his devastated expression. "That won't bring your father back Clark! Destroying that machine won't bring him back from the dead!"

"It's never going to hurt anyone again! Ever!" Clark shouted, shaking her loose and ripping at more tubing. It ripped away near the top of the machine, drenching him in a shower of liquid. Caitlin gasped and began slapping at him as Clark yelled out in what sounded like pain and stumbled to his knees.

"Oh God! Clark!" The bluish-green liquid had him completely saturated; it ran down his dark hair in rivulets. "Shut your eyes! Squeeze them tight!" She tugged at the sleeve of her sweater ripping it off and began wiping it off of him.

"Uh!" Clark gasped as every nerve ending in his body seemed to come alive with a sensation he couldn't quite name. He squeezed his eyes shut and wiped at them with his hands, waiting for the inevitable pain and weakness to overtake him. His body continued to quiver, and after a few moments Clark opened his eyes. He looked down at the floor and noticed that the puddle that had formed around him was glowing blue, not green. "Caitlin . . . look . . . " He pointed a shaking finger. "It's blue, not green! What is this stuff?" He asked.

Caitlin shook her head as she touched the blue liquid, rubbing it between her fingers.

"I don't know--" She reached out and touched Clark's shirt remember how the green had affected him. "Are you all right? Is it hurting you?"

"I . . . I'm not sure, I feel strange." Clark said, and then something inside him seemed to switch on. It came on slowly, like an engine revving, and then it came upon him with full force, making his eyes turn a bright shade of blue. He inhaled sharply as his hands seemed to be drawn to his father's dead body like magnets. They landed squarely on Jonathan's chest and Clark's eyes widened as some kind of tremendous force swept through his body and out his fingertips like a tidal wave. He cried out in shock as his heart began to pump in a strange rhythm. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Caitlin come towards him and he shook his head.

"Don't . . . touch me!" He gasped. The power continued to flow through him like a current and he looked down in amazement as Jonathan's body began to jerk and shudder. The connection tightened, and Clark actually sensed his father's heart begin to beat in tandem with his own. As the shudders slowed, the connection broke all at once and Clark fell backwards, sprawling spread-eagled onto the cold tile floor.

"Oh God! Clark!" Caitlin ran over to him and crouched down, wiping the blue liquid from his face.

"Come on Clark! Open your eyes!" She put her hand against his neck and waited, feeling the strong pulse against her fingers.

Clark's eyelids fluttered open at her touch and he blinked up at her, his eyes back to their normal color. Caitlin helped him stand up and he groaned.

"What happened?" He asked, then heard Caitlin gasp sharply, as if in disbelief. He looked up and followed her gaze, and his mouth dropped open when he saw his father open his own eyes and look around groggily. Clark went over to his father and ripped away the leather straps holding him down; he put a hand on his shoulder. "Dad?" He asked, and Jonathan peered up at him.

"Clark?"

Clark smiled unsurely, then that smile turned into a full-blown grin. "Yeah . . . it's me, dad!" He helped Jonathan sit up and hugged him tightly. Jonathan hugged him back, his expression a little dazed. He looked up at Caitlin over Clark's shoulder. "What . . . what happened?"

Caitlin beamed, just as happy as Clark that his father was all right. She reached out and touched his arm. "It's a long story Mr. Kent, you were gone but you're back now and that's all that really matters."

"But your father-" Jonathan started to say, then patted Clark's shoulder. "Son, I'm real happy to see you too, but I can't . . . breathe!" He exclaimed, and Clark released him, his eyes bright with tears.

"Sorry," He chuckled sheepishly. "and don't worry about Dr. Cole. He's never going to hurt anyone ever again."

The joy slid from Caitlin's face like silk as she saw the body of her father lying on his side, the white coat he wore blood soaked from where the instruments impaled him. She bore a scowl and nodded slowly in agreement with Clark. "No one ever again."

Clark looked down at his hands, which were covered with a messy swirl of green and blue, and spotted with his own blood. He wiped them on a nearby lab coat, ridding himself of the last of the liquid kryptonite that Dr. Cole had splashed him with earlier. As Jonathan slowly got to his feet Clark turned to Caitlin.

"I don't get it." He said softly. "What did I do and how did I do it?"

"I don't know Clark--" Caitlin spotted her father's desk and rifled the papers on top of it. Yanking out the drawers and scattering their contents on the floor she found a black diary and began going through it. Her eyes scanned the writing and finally she raised them looking at both Clark and Jonathan.

"An unusual discovery—I've found that the meteor rocks don't just come in green. A discovery inside a cave in Smallville has led me to another link in the chain of my cure. There were blue meteor rocks in this cave with the unusual writings on the walls. It seems that the blue and green working together are what liquefies human flesh and helps me extract the DNA. All I need is that one final element—that one missing link that continues to elude me."

She stopped reading and raised her head to look at both men.  

"My blood." Clark said finally. "He was right all along; he needed my blood to cure his disease."

Caitlin closed the diary and crouched back down; she moved more papers aside revealing a chunk of what looked like blue glass. She picked it up carefully and stood up.

"This must be it, the blue kryptonite."

Jonathan stepped in front of Clark. "Be careful Clark, we don't know what that stuff might do to you on its own."

"It won't hurt him Mr. Kent, I think it's the blue that made him be able to bring you back--" Caitlin walked around Jonathan and held it out to him. "Here Clark, take it."

Clark pressed his lips together and carefully took the rock from Caitlin. It felt warm, then cool, then back to warm again as a strange shivering affect traveled up his arm.

"It's like what I felt before, but not as strong." He said.

"What exactly did you feel before, Clark?" He asked. His last memory of being in the lab was of his son and Dr. Cole fighting and of Caitlin yanking needles from his body. It was hazy and fragmented, like a nightmare remembered hours after waking.

Clark handed the rock back to Caitlin. "It's hard to describe dad. I felt almost . . . almost like I wasn't under my own control. My hands were like magnets and once I touched you, it was like my powers had been put under this giant magnifying glass."

"I don't know what good this rock will do, but maybe you should keep it--" Caitlin picked up a piece of paper from the floor and wrapped it around the blue chunk.

"A good luck charm, huh?" Clark grinned as he accepted the bundle.

"One that saved your father's life--" Caitlin stated as she looked over at the body of her father again. "Maybe we better get out of here and call the police."

"Jonathan, are you sure you're all right?" Martha asked for nearly the eighth time since he and Clark had returned to the farm. Jonathan smiled and nodded. He felt fine, if a trifle weak.

"Yes Martha, I'm sure." He replied, sipping the cup of wonderfully strong coffee she'd brought him. Clark sat on the couch holding a cup of equally strong homemade hot chocolate.

"Maybe we should take you to the clinic and let one of the doctor's check you out--" Martha sat down on the arm of the chair Jonathan sat in and stroked her fingers down his face.

Jonathan chuckled, his dark blue eyes bright. "And tell them what, honey? That my adopted son who just happens to be an alien just brought me back from the dead and you want to make sure it took?" A grin took the sting out of his words and Clark matched it with his own.

"Boy, wouldn't Chloe just love that for her Wall of Weird!"

Martha didn't share the laughter and shook her head slowly. "It's not funny! And neither one of you should be laughing!" She said angrily as she stood up. "If it wasn't for that blue kryptonite you'd be dead Jonathan!"

"All right . . . okay, Martha. I know. I'm sorry." Jonathan replied, catching her hand before she should walk away. "But you know we can't go to the clinic with this. I feel fine, anyway. Damned if I know how that is, since from what Clark and Caitlin told me my kidneys are sitting in a vat somewhere in that deserted lab."

Martha let her husband pull her back towards him and onto his lap. She leaned her head against his chest. "I'm sorry Jonathan I didn't mean to get angry. Just the idea that you were dead--" She shook her head and closed her eyes, trying to put the very thought of her husband's death out of her mind.

"Don't worry." Jonathan assured her. "I'm here now." He sipped his coffee and glanced up at Clark, who was staring pensively out the window. "You okay, Clark?" He asked, and Clark started at the sound of his name.

"Uh? Oh . . . yeah. I'm okay. I was just thinking about that blue kryptonite. According to Dr. Cole's journal, he found it in the caves. I wonder why no one had discovered it before then?"

"Well Clark you were the one that found that cave? Remember how you fell through the ceiling of it? Maybe Dr. Cole found another way into it and that's why no one else discovered it."

"Maybe." Clark sighed, and finished his hot chocolate. He licked away the mocha moustache it had left behind and set the cup on the end table beside him.

"It's just . . . weird!" He exclaimed suddenly. "It was there and then it was gone! I've never had a power like this before!"

Martha got off her husband's lap and sat down beside her son. "Clark you know that things from your planet affect you differently. The red and green kryptonite both do things to you and apparently the blue does now too. You kept that one rock Caitlin found right?"

Clark nodded. "She said it was a good luck charm."

"And it is--" Martha reached out and touched her son's hand. "You look tired Honey, why don't you go get some rest?"

"I'll try." He sighed, getting up from the chair. "Night mom, night dad."

"Goodnight, son." Jonathan replied, watching Clark climb the stairs. Once it was quiet, he sighed and shook his head. "I don't think that blue rock is the only thing on Clark's mind tonight."

"Probably not--" Martha returned to her husband's lap, stretching her legs out across the tops of his thighs. "He's probably wondering what's going to happen with Caitlin now."

"I've seen the way she looks at him." Jonathan smiled. "I don't think he needs to worry."

"And what say is that?" Martha touched her nose to her husband's. "Could it be the same way I look at you?"

Jonathan mused a moment before replying. "Maybe . . . you know, since we couldn't get to the clinic, how about you looking me over? That is . . . . if you promise to be thorough."

"I think I can do that--" She pressed her mouth to Jonathan's and slid her arms around his neck as the kiss deepened.

Clark stood at his bedroom window, naked from the waist up as he gazed out into the dark. Caitlin was probably asleep in her own bed less than three miles away, and it both frightened and exhilarated him that he couldn't stop thinking about her. He knew that they were bonded together by his secret, but Clark longed for more than that. He wanted her closeness, her warmth, her smile to be only for him. I know what I feel in my heart; he thought as he put a hand on the window pane, I just wish I knew if she felt the same.

  

Caitlin opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch, a thin blanket was around her shoulders over her pajamas. The wooden deck cold on her feet, she peered up at the dark sky wondering about the place that Clark had come from. The breeze blew across her face and she closed her eyes imagining that the caresses on her cheek were Clark's fingers. She missed him. A pain of wistfulness swelled around her heart and she sighed against it.

"I miss you Clark, I wish you were here--" She whispered to herself swallowing hard. Clark was only a short distance away but to Caitlin it felt much more than that. When she would see Clark again she wasn't sure but in the meantime she would silently count down the hours. Caitlin gazed down the road towards the Kent farm as the moon rose high in the sky.

END.