Chapter 20
Clark woke up the next morning in a pretty good mood.
It was a beautiful day. The sun shining, and there wasn't even a hint of a rain cloud in the sky. And, since everyone had such a late night, Dad said he and Chris could skip all but the most necessary chores. Which meant they had most of the day free to do whatever they wanted.
Whistling cheerfully, Clark headed into the downstairs bathroom, head filled with all the things they could do on a Saturday. Smallville might not be Metropolis, but there was plenty of fun stuff to do here, too. You just had to know where to find it.
It didn't really hit him until he was brushing his.
Chris was leaving today.
Clark froze mid-brush, his heart sinking in his chest. Somehow, despite knowing the arrival of the Halliwell's meant Chris had a way home, despite all their talk of leaving "tomorrow night", it hadn't really sunk in until now. And, now, it was sinking in with a vengeance.
Clark frowned at his reflection. He'd gotten used to having Chris around. Having someone to hang with and talk to. For a week, he'd gotten a glimpse of what it might be like to have a brother. And he kinda liked it.
Now, Chris was going home. And not having him around was going to feel strange. The house was going to feel empty.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if they could keep in touch. But how could you keep in touch with a guy in another dimension. It wasn't like they could call each other on the 'phone, or trade e-mails.
Some of his good mood dimmed, Clark got dressed.
Heading into the kitchen, Clark found that everyone had gathered there. Martha and Piper were at the stove, cooking breakfast. Phoebe and Paige were at the coffee maker, arguing over the best way to make a pot of coffee. Chris was at the counter, cutting fresh strawberries. And Jonathan was at the table, reading the paper.
"'Morning, son," Jonathan said as he glanced up.
"'Morning, Dad. Good morning, everybody."
"Good morning," everyone else said in unison.
As Clark walked to the table, he noticed that Phoebe was watching him speculatively. Blushing bright red, he squirmed under her curious gaze, and was glad he'd decided to dress in layers: a flannel button-down over a blue t-shirt.
Noticing where her sister was looking, Paige rolled her eyes and removed the pot from the coffee maker. Unfortunately, Phoebe reached for it at the same time. As their hands collided, the glass pot started to fall.
Usually, in a situation like this, Clark would have super-sped across the room, catching the pot before it could hit the floor and shatter into a million pieces. But he never even got the chance to take a step in that direction.
"Hey!" Piper cried, startled. She made a gesture at the falling pot; it almost looked like she was flicking water off of her hand. And, in an instant, the coffee pot stopped falling. Instead, it just hung there, frozen in mid-air.
"Oh, my God," Martha gasped, eyes widening in wonder.
"You guys!" Piper scolded her sisters. "Watch what you're doing, please!"
"Sorry," Paige said, chagrined. Casually, she reached down and plucked the pot out of the air. Then, the Halliwell's went back to their business as if nothing unusual had happened. And didn't seem to notice the three Kents were frozen in shock.
"Well," Jonathan finally said. "That was certainly…interesting."
"That's nothing," Chris said. Un-phased by the entire display, he continued cutting the strawberries. "Considering how out of whack my powers have been since I got here, we're lucky she didn't accidentally blow it up."
"Oh, please," Piper scoffed. Picking up, a spatula, she flipped pancakes onto a plate. "I haven't blown up something I meant to freeze in ages." Then, holding up the plate, she offered the room a broad smile. "Breakfast is served!"
Clark, Martha and Jonathan traded glances. Then, as one, they shrugged. If the Halliwell's could act like nothing unusual had happened, so could they.
Sitting around the table, the two families chatted amiably. Martha asked Piper about the club she owned in San Francisco. Phoebe asked Jonathan about running a farm, and actually seemed interested by his explanation. And Paige and Chris bickered.
Clark, who couldn't get a word in edge-wise, smiled. He'd always wondered what having a big family would be like, and was enjoying having a little taste of it, even if for only one day.
Clark didn't notice how quiet Chris's mom had gotten until his own mom asked, "Piper, are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," Piper said. "Just missing Wyatt a little bit." And her eyes were suspiciously moist.
"Wyatt?" Clark asked, taking a moment to remember the name. Then, he turned to Chris. "He's your brother, right?"
"Yeah. My big brother. Who, at the moment, is twenty years younger than I am. Physically, anyway."
"Man," Jonathan said, shaking his head and laying down his fork. "I still can't get used to that."
Paige patted Piper on the hand. "Don't worry, sweetie. You'll be back with him in just a few hours."
"I know." Looking embarrassed, she wiped at her eyes. "It's just my hormones making me weepier than usual."
"Uh huh." Chris grinned. "So, what's your excuse for crying my first day of kindergarten? And when I lost my first tooth? And when you found out Susie Shoemacher and I kissed behind the storage shed when I was thirteen. And…"
"Awww," Phoebe interrupted, giving Chris a sappy look. "Your first kiss? That's so sweet."
Groaning, Chris put his hand over his face.
As everyone laughed, Clark joined in, some of his good mood returning. He really was going to miss this.
"So, this is the Talon?" Chris said, looking around at the coffee house.
"Yep," Clark said. "What do you think?"
"Looks pretty cool," Chris said. Hands in his pockets, he followed Clark across the room. To be honest, his feelings were mixed about going home. On the one hand, he was happy about it, sure. He missed San Francisco, and the manor, and Baby Wyatt. And, he grudgingly admitted, he even missed Dad. But he'd enjoyed staying with the Kents. And Clark…Well, it had almost been like having a brother close to his own age again. A brother who wasn't a power-hungry megalomaniac.
"Hey, Lana," Clark said, smiling at a pretty brunette who was standing behind the counter.
Looking in their direction, Lana smiled in return. "Hi, Clark. I haven't seen you around here in a while."
"Uh, yeah. I've kinda been sticking close to home the past week." Looking slightly guilty about his long absence, Clark grabbed Chris's arm and pulled him forward. "Lana, this is Chris. He's been staying with us the past few days. And, Chris, this is Lana, part owner of the Talon."
"Yeah. Lex Luthor owns the other, slightly bigger part." With a friendly grin, Lana held out her hand. "It's nice to meet you."
"You to," Chris said, returning the handshake. "Nice place you have here."
"Thanks." Suddenly, her eyes shifted to look at some point over Chris's shoulder. "And speaking of the devil…"
Chris turned to see Lex Luthor walking towards them.
"Lex," Clark smiled. "Hi."
"Clark. Chris." The older man nodded at each of them in turn. "I didn't expect to see the two of you here today." Briefly, he glanced towards his business partner. "Hello, Lana."
"Hey, Lex." Then, holding up an order pad, she nodded towards a group of customers that had just walked in. "Duty calls."
"So, Clark," Lex began after she'd left, "a new car was delivered to the mansion this morning. Perhaps you and Chris would like to come over and take a look. Maybe even give her a test drive."
Silently, Chris groaned. He'd seen one of Lex's cars. And, if the new one was anything like that one, he'd kill for a chance behind the wheel. But… "Sorry, but I can't. I won't be here tomorrow."
Head turning sharply, Lex studied Chris's face with intense blue eyes. "You're leaving?"
Chris shifted uneasily under Lex's piercing gaze. It felt like Lex was trying to look directly into his mind and read his thoughts, which was a little creepy. "I figured it's time for me to be heading home."
There was a long pause as Lex seemed to try to dissect him with his eyes. "Well, that's too bad. I was hoping to for the chance to…get to know you better."
"Uh, yeah. Me too," Chris said. And he meant it. He liked Lex, intense gaze, compulsive curiosity, and all. Although, he got the feeling being friends with the guy could be sort of challenging. Especially for someone with as much to hide as Clark.
Chris just hope their friendship wouldn't suffer because of it.
Clark parked the truck in front of the house.
"So," Clark asked, "you wanna play some hoops?"
"Well, I haven't played in a while." Then, he grinned. "But, I have to warn you, I was pretty good once upon a time. And skills like I had, you just don't forget. I mean, I'll try not to beat you too bad, but…"
"Hey, I'm no slouch either," Clark interrupted. Getting out of the truck, he slammed the door shut. "But rule number one. No powers allowed."
"What?" Grinning, he looked at Clark over the top of the truck. "Don't think your super alien powers can take my supernatural mojo?"
"I never said that. I just thought I'd make it easy on you. But, hey, if you want to…to…" Suddenly, he stuttered to a stop. Smile melting from his face, he stared at Chris.
"Clark," Chris said, wondering why Clark stopped talking in mid-sentence. When Clark just continued to stare, hurried around the truck, worried that Clark was getting sick or something. Frowning, he hurried around to Clark's side of the truck. "Are you okay?"
For a moment, Clark remained speechless. Then, finally, he said, "Uh, Chris. Your eyes are glowing?"
"What?!"
"Your eyes," Clark repeated. "They're glowing."
Heart sinking with dread, Chris looked at his reflection in the driver's-side window. Clark was right. There was a faint, golden glow emanating from his eyes, like sunlight shining behind a window shade.
"Ah, man," Chris sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. "This can't be good."
"Chris." Clark took a hesitant step closer. "What's going on? I mean, is this normal for you?"
"Uh, that would be a no." Chris shook his head dejectedly. "Normal is the last thing this is." Turning to face Clark, he opened his eyes…
And Clark was blinded by a flash of golden light. It was so bright it actually hurt, sending a flash of hot pain slashing through his brain.
Clark staggered back, hands flying up to shield his face, pain growing sharper, more intense, then before fading away. Stunned, Clark took his hands down and opened his eyes. Only to find he wasn't where he expected to be.
They were no longer in the driveway of the Kent farm. They were in what looked like an attic. Dusty and unused, filled with a dim, bluish light.
And they weren't alone. There were a bunch of people in the room, too, dressed in gray shirts and black slacks, and standing almost at attention. And none of them seemed to notice Chris or Clark. Instead, they were all facing one of the attic's walls, staring at the strange design that had been drawn on it: three narrow, interconnected ovals.
And there was another man, standing behind the rest. The man was muscular and tall—maybe even taller than Clark—and dressed in black from head to toe. He had long, dirty-blond hair that fell in waves past his chin. And, if Clark had to guess, he would say the man was about 24 or 25. But he had the baring of someone older, someone used to being in control. And, despite the fact that there were older people in the room, despite the fact that he was standing at the back, well behind the others, Clark knew, instinctively, that this man was in charge.
"Oh, my God," Chris whispered, sounding horrified. He looked like he was going to be sick. His green eyes were glazed, his skin pale. And he swayed to one side, almost like he was about to faint.
"Chris," Clark said, grabbing his arm to steady him. "Where are we?"
For a long moment, it seemed like Chris might not answer. Like he couldn't answer. But he took a long, shaky breath, and made a visible effort to pull himself together. "Well, Clark," he said, donning a sickly smile. "Welcome to one of the worst days of my life."
(TO BE CONTINUED)
