Chapter-- what.. are we on 9 now? Wow, this is longer than I planned on it being... but if you're still reading, you are my new hero. Haha, hero and it's smallville-- no pun intended. Okay, yeah... you can tell it's late when you start making lame jokes:) But thanks anyway-- and I mean it.

"Honey, can I come in?"

Clark looked up, once again breaking his train of thought. He knew what was happening. The "Dad talks" were great, and every once in a while his parents would team up together to get to the bottom of things-- but when Mom came up alone—well, Clark wasn't really sure what it meant, but it was serious. And he did know what she wanted to talk about. That probably worried him even more.

"It's open."

Martha opened the door and smiled at him. Make small talk, she thought. Jonathon always asked Clark straight out what was wrong, but Martha knew that not many teenage boys became excited when their moms asked. She looked around. How did I raise such a pig? I've told him a million times to put his clothes in the laundry basket. He can super speed; it shouldn't be that much trouble for him. You know, if I had a messy room when I was young, my father would have..."

"Mom..."

Now it was Martha's turn to snap out of her thoughts.

"You can stop folding my clothes. They're dirty anyway, I'm just going to throw them in the washer."

Have I taught him nothing? "You can't just throw all of these clothes in the washer. The whites need bleached; the darks need to be washed in cold water. You see Clark, this is why you go through so many clothes; you don't take care of the ones you have..."

Clark laughed to himself. "Mom... you didn't come up here to talk to me about my wardrobe."

Martha smiled. She was getting sidetracked. "Well, I have been meaning to talk to you about it sometime."

"You do—like every day."

"Well," Martha defended, "that's just me being your mom." Clark smiled and looked down at his hands. He did appreciate everything his mom did for him. Martha watched him thinking and decided to hurry up the conversation a bit. She wouldn't pry, she would prompt:). Moms were good at that, too. "You were kind of quiet during dinner tonight."
Here we go again, Clark thought. He wanted to tell his parents what was happening in his life, he really did. It would just be nice if they were together when I tell them, so I wouldn't have to tell the same story over and over and over...

"I saw Chloe's car pull up." Forget small talk-- it was time to pry. "Did she come see you?"

"Maybe I've just been doing this too long." Clark ventured.

Martha's concerned mom instincts came in. "Doing what too long?"

Clark looked up at her. "Mom, do you think people can keep secrets forever?" Clark paused. "I mean really keep something bottled up inside of them until the end of their lives without telling a person they care about?"

Martha really wasn't sure what to say to that. "I think necessity plays a big role with it."

Clark looked down again, "Even if it was necessary, do you really think someone can go through life alone?"

Martha was pained. She knew her son was 6'3, but to her he still looked like a little boy.

He was her little boy, and he was in pain. "Clark, I don't think anyone goes through life alone. You might have times when you feel alone—everyone does. But that doesn't mean you won't have times when you feel needed."

"I feel needed now. That's the problem-- Lana needs me, Chloe needs me, you and Dad need me! Yet I can't give them what they need, Mom. I can't give them anything. I am so close to them, yet I might as well be on Krypton." Clark stood up and walked to the window. "I know the responsible, unselfish thing to do is to keep them as far away from the truth as possible, but..."

"You don't have to be Superman," his mom interrupted. "Here, sit down."

Even in a nervous break down, Clark knew enough to obey.

Martha also wanted to choose her words carefully. She wanted to make a point that would stay with her son for the rest of his life—something that he'd always remember. Something that gave him a new point of view. That's it, she thought. A new perspective. That's what people need when they feel like this. "Clark," she began, "Sweetie, it's hard to be different. It's really hard. It feels lonely. You feel like you have to keep something very important to you, something you treasure, a secret from the people you care for most. And Clark?" Clark looked up at her. "It's hard. It is so hard to be different." She paused for effect, "But it's hard to be normal, too. It's hard to be faster than everyone else; it's hard to be a little bit slower. It's hard to know something, and it's hard to be left out of something." Martha looked around the room, "It's hard to be a mom, and it's hard to be a kid. Clark, the truth is, life's just hard—we weren't meant to go through it alone. No one can. Not ever." She laughed a little. "I guess being this different wasn't really part of your plans for your life, but it is what was given to you. But no matter how alone you feel, you're not on Krypton."

Clark thought about that for a second, "Then, you think I should tell Lana and Chloe the truth?"

Of course Martha thought he should tell them the truth. Jonathon and her first priority was Clark's wellbeing. "I didn't say that." Clark was confused. "You've been given a gift, Clark." Clark rolled his eyes. He's been told that more times than he's been told to clean his room. "I'm not talking about your abilities-- I'm talking about your friends. The time comes in everyone's lives when they meet a few good people who will really be there for them. You got lucky, Clark. You found yours young. And most likely, you'll find some in the future. All I'm saying is to remember that they're having a hard time, too. You're not alone in that. Be sensitive to each other. That's the way it's supposed to work—an equal load, not Clark-holds-everything."

Clark shrugged, "Then what should I do?"

Martha smiled, "I can't tell you that—you know I can't."

Clark looked up at her. "Why not?" It took her a minute before she knew he was kidding.

She smiled, and so finally Clark did, too.

Martha smiled even more. "Thanks. I missed seeing you smile." That made Clark smile even more.