Disclaimer: Canon characters are not mine. Story line and unfamiliar characters are mine… my own… my precious.
AU / early first season
Clark / Lex friendship, Jonathan / Martha / Clark family situations, no one else is mentioned too much covers mouth with fingers guess I couldn't find a place for dead-parent or abandonment-issue whining
Thanks to my betas- my dear husband and oldest daughter.
TRUST
One.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, lightening danced within the miles high thunderhead. The weather had been exceptionally warm for March causing an eruption of vicious thunderstorms all converging on Smallville Kansas.
Unfortunately for Clark Kent this was the last day to find his half of the botany assignment for school. He read through the description of the plant he was to find then turned in a circle scanning the clearing. Too bad it wasn't something with x-rayable mass.
Sighing, he skirted the tree line of the timber across the highway from the retirement center. No plant. Stupid plant. How would this help him get a job later, to function in society, to have a six figure income? How would identifying a fringed orchid effect anything?
A sound caught his attention. In the timber, faint voices. Maybe an argument. Concentrating, Clark x-rayed the tree line. There, about 60 yards in, three people hovering around a…around some kind of mechanical device.
Two of the figures began shoving each other. Their arms locked around each other. One punched the other in the face; the receiver stumbled back into the device. The fight continued but Clark's attention was drawn to a change in the mechanical device. Two liquid like substances in separate canisters were dumping into a single center canister. Clark had seen enough movies to recognize a bomb.
The brawl escalated to include all three people, leaving no ones attention on the bomb. Not thinking more than a second ahead, Clark super-sped, grabbed the bomb and super-sped back out to the clearing. While still in super-speed, he scanned for some place safe to dump the bomb before it exploded. Seeing none he did the best he could and threw it straight up.
About eighty feet in the air the bomb exploded raining a fine green mist down on Clark. He blinked against the debris, coughing as the microscopic droplets traveled down his throat with each breath. Suddenly dizzy, stunned and confused, he just stood rooted to the spot. His brain felt like it was in a fog. What was going on?
The ominous thunderstorm was overhead now, completely blocking the evening sunlight. The lightening flashed breaking the premature night. Thunder rumbled deep, shaking Clark's insides. He shook his head against the cotton that had invaded it. Help…he needed to get help.
Two.
The lights in his office blinked twice before returning to constant illumination. Lex Luthor looked annoyingly at the light fixture daring it to go out completely. Thunder rumbled loud enough to make his windows quake in their sills.
Getting up to poke at the fire, he was interrupted mid stride by a knock at the door. The night security man stuck his head in, "Excuse me, Mr. Luthor. Mr. Kent is here to see you."
Lex averted his gaze to the fireplace. "Junior or senior?"
"Junior, sir."
A faint smile lifted his features. "Send him in, Duncan."
Lex continued over to the fireplace. He put another log on the fire to fend off the chill that had fallen with the storm. The opening and closing of the door brought him around to face his friend. His greeting died in his throat when his gazed landed on Clark.
Clark was drenched. Rivulets of water ran from him, puddling on the floor around his feet. His complexion was pale, his teeth chattered, his whole body seemed to tremble. Not quite looking at Lex, Clark watched the floor, arms wrapped tightly around himself.
"God, Clark." Lex hurried over to him. Getting closer Lex saw his boots, knees and forearms were muddy, must have fallen. Was there an accident?
"Duncan, bring blankets and towels!" he shouted over his shoulder. Putting a hand in the small of his back, Lex guided Clark over to the sofa in front of the fire.
Duncan arrived with an armful of blankets. Lex took them, shooting a threatening scowl at his night security guard that said 'I'll deal with you later,' for being vague in the facts he presented when he announced Clark's arrival. He wrapped the shivering teen in a thick chenille blanket and began toweling his hair.
Clark looked over at Lex as if coming awake. "Lex…..I need a ride….."
Lex kneeled before his friend. "Clark, what happened?"
"The truck's…ss…in the ditch…" Clark looked around eyebrows furrowed. "I'm cold…"
Lex frowned putting the back of his hand on Clark's forehead. The boy was burning up. Lex put his hands on either side of Clark's head to keep his wandering attention. "Clark, tell me what happened," he said slowly.
Clark blinked glassy green eyes. His mind wandered…green mist…meteor rock mist…bomb made with meteor rock. "I gotta go home," A brutal cough interrupted his plead.
Lex sat back on his heels, shook his head. "No. Clark. I am taking you to the hospital."
Clark shot unsteadily to his feet, fighting to free himself from the blanket. Struggling away from Lex toward the open fire place.
Lex stood carefully not wanting to scare the confused teen into the fire. He held an open hand out to Clark. "Clark, you're sick. I need to get you to a doctor," he said carefully.
Clark shook his head emphatically. A pained look crossed his face, a gut deep coughing fit dropped him to hands and knees.
Lex dropped to his knees, placing a hand on Clark's back as he hacked.
"Lex….please….," Clark pleaded in gasping breaths.
Gritting his teeth, Lex hooked his arms under Clark's. With minimal help from his sick friend, he heaved him back onto the sofa. Lex turned to Duncan hovering in the background, "Pull the Porsche around front."
Lex stood beside Clark until Duncan returned. The boy hadn't moved from his slouched position on the sofa. His breath was ragged, his body trembled constantly with large tremors engulfing him every few minutes. The cough was getting worse, deep and painful. Lex, remembering his youth, could only think pneumonia.
Three.
Martha Kent came into the living room with two mugs of steaming coffee. She smiled at her husband, who took one of the mugs with a quiet 'thanks'. She snuggled back down beside him on the sofa in front of a roaring fire. She looked up at the clock, nearly ten. "Have you heard from Clark?"
"Um…not since he called around four. He was going to the Beanery then to finish some science project," Jonathan Kent responded pointing the remote at the TV to turn on the news.
"Honey, that was six hours ago." Martha sat up straight, worry playing across her features.
"Martha, it's Clark," Jonathan returned, cocking an eyebrow. He put an arm around his wife, pulling her close. "Give him a half an hour. Then we'll start calling around."
Headlights shining through the kitchen window drew their attention. Martha smiled thinking; 'there he is.' Her smile changed as she stood on the porch peering through the sheeting rain. It wasn't the truck, it was Lex's Porsche in the driveway.
"Hi, Lex," she called as he got out and ran around to the passenger side. She frowned as he reached in and began pulling out her son, her limp unconscious son. "Jonathan!" she screamed over her shoulder as she bolted off the porch through the ran to where Lex struggled with her son.
Jonathan ran to the porch at his wife's desperate cry. Squinting through the rain he saw Lex and his wife slipping through the mud with Clark draped between them. Slopping through the puddles, he quickly replaced his wife as Lex was shouting over the near constant thunder, "…his cough has been getting worse. He lost consciousness on the way over."
Martha directed them to the sofa, then was up the stairs to gather blankets and towels.
Jonathan settled his shivering son, then sat beside him with a hand on Clark's head. "He is so hot, " he observed.
Lex nodded. "I can have the best doctors money can buy down here in two hours, Mr. Kent."
Jonathan looked up at Lex. "No, Lex. Clark will be fine. He's a strong kid." But Jonathan's face did not reflect his words as he watched his son worriedly. "You did the right thing, Lex."
"Did I, Mr. Kent?" Lex grit his teeth. "I'm not so sure. Clark should be in the hospital. Death doesn't care how strong you are." He paused but received no reaction from Jonathan. "I have always admired your devotion to your family. Why this gross neglect? Why would you risk your sons life? What secret is so important that you would let him die to protect it?"
Jonathan stood to his feet. He was only a few inches taller than Lex but he pulled himself straight to gain as much intimidation as possible. "Lex, this is my son. I would gladly die for him. I know what he needs and it isn't a damn hospital full of doctors and questions!"
Martha came down the stairs, a fearful look on her face. She paused looking between the two men facing off. "Jonathan," she whispered a warning.
Jonathan looked at her, relaxing to his normal stance. He looked back to Lex. "Thanks for the offer, Lex. Good night."
Lex pressed his lips into a flat frustrated line. "I don't understand you. He's your son."
Martha squeezed between Jonathan and Lex. Sitting beside Clark she began drying him. Heat radiated from his body but he shook with chills. His arms began to twitch, his head lolled side to side, a whimper grew in his throat. Breath rattled in his chest, caught in his throat then erupted in a deep, hard cough. To everyone's shock, spittle tinged with blood frothed from Clark's mouth.
Jonathan gripped Lex's arm, none too gently escorting him to the kitchen door. "Good bye, Lex." He slammed and locked the door then headed back to his son.
Lex stood on the porch, too stunned to move. Blood, the kid was coughing up blood and his perfect parents still weren't taking him to the hospital. Lex ran to his car. Once out of the rain he pulled out his phone. Punching in a number, he began issuing orders as he left the Kent farm.
Jonathan went back to his wife and son. Martha was softly crying as she untied and removed Clark's heavy boots.
"Martha." Jonathan took her hands in his. "Let me do this. You go find him something warm and dry to wear."
Nodding, Martha wiped her tears and headed back upstairs to her son's room.
Jonathan struggled with Clark as a dead weight. "Come one, son," he coaxed, stripping Clark's jacket off then the shirt. After some maneuvering and muscle, he had the soaked, filthy clothes off and a heavy quilt tucked around his son. He scooped up the clothes and tossed them down the basement stairs to the laundry room. Turning to go back to the living room, he noticed a green film all over his hands. He looked closer- it was bright green…meteor rock dust. 'Oh my God, no,' he prayed silently, running to scrub his hands in the kitchen sink with the water as hot as it would go and Lava soap.
"Martha!" he called to his wife, who was now in the living room with an armload of warm clothes.
Martha turned from her son to see her husband scrubbing madly at his hands and forearms. "What is it?"
"It's meteor rock. Real fine, like dust." He came to stand at the entry of the living room. "If he breathed any of that in…" Jonathan fearfully put voice to his theory.
Martha put a hand to her mouth bringing her gaze down to her sickly boy. "Oh, Jonathan…what do we do?"
Four.
The storm had passed. The morning sun painted the sky pink and orange. The birds chirped pleasantly and the cock crowed.
Jonathan was kicked back in the rocking chair, his feet on the coffee table. Martha sat in the wing chair pulled up by the couch, her hand resting on her son's chest. They were jerked from their light sleep by a loud knock on the front door. Opening it, Jonathan was greeted with the sight of two police officers and a man and woman in business type suits.
"Can I help you?" he asked rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
The man stepped forward brandishing an ID badge. "I am Bill Martin. DFS. This is Mandy Lewis." He motioned to the woman beside him. Both were businesslike in an uptown snotty kind of way. Him with slicked black hair, her with pulled back blonde; both with cold eyes.
A lead bowling ball dropped into Jonathan's stomach. DFS…Division of Family Services…oh, God.
Bill Martin handed Jonathan a folded piece of legal paper. "We have a warrant to search the premises on the charge of child endangerment," he stated flatly, stepping past Jonathan into the living room. His companions quickly followed.
Martha kneeled beside Clark as Jonathan went to the door. Clark hadn't improved but he hadn't gotten worse. Although she wasn't sure what 'worse' could possibly be like. She used a cool washcloth to wipe his cheeks and neck, leaving it laying across his forehead.
Jonathan came back in the room following four other people. "There must be a mistake. My son is ill but he is in no danger." Jonathan slapped the warrant against Bill Martin's chest.
Bill Martin looked down at the piece of paper held against him. Not taking his hands out of his pockets, he stared at Jonathan. "Mr. Kent, are you refusing us access to your home?"
"Damn right I am."
The police officers stepped forward pulling Jonathan's arms behind his back. "Mr. Jonathan Kent. We are placing you under arrest….."
"No, wait, please…" Martha tried to intercede. "We agree to your search." Her wide, teary eyes pleaded with the man in the suit.
Looking around the room, tongue in check, he shook his head at the two police offers. They released Jonathan, who went to stand protectively by his family.
The woman, Mandy Lewis, came around to the unconscious Clark. She placed a hand against his flushed cheek. Her dispassionate stare turned on Martha. "He is burning up. Have you given him anything for this?"
Martha shook her head.
"Why?"
"He doesn't respond to medication," she informed her quietly.
"He needs to be in the hospital," Mandy informed her partner matter of factly.
"He can't go to the hospital," Jonathan hurriedly interjected.
"Why?" Martin was intrigued.
Jonathan's mind was whirling through possible responses. He wanted one that would hold up in court, if need be, but he was a farmer, not a lawyer. "Religious reasons."
Martin chuckled, turning, opening his cell phone. Mandy's mouth dropped open. "Mr. Kent, endangering the life of a child is not a religious right."
Behind the couch, Martin could be heard requesting an ambulance. Jonathan and Martha looked at each other, lost as to what to do.
Breaking the silence, Clark started to gurgle, erupting into a full cough. Blood frothed at his lips as it had so many times in the night. Martha used the wash cloth to wipe off his mouth. Mandy jumped back in disgust. Jonathan rested his left hand on his hip, rubbing his haggard face with the other, head hung low.
The two DFS officers converged behind the sofa, looking at the Kents with distaste.
The room filled with thick discomfort, Clark's congested breathing and the grandfather clock the only sounds. The Kents attention on their son, the agents attention on the Kents.
The ambulance wailed into the drive. Bill Martin met two male EMTs at the door, filling them in with all he had witnessed and observed.
The EMTs brought their gear beside Clark, brushing the parents aside. One took his vitals, the other listened to his chest. "How long has he been this way?" one asked looking up at Martin.
Martin looked at Jonathan, who had eyes only for his son. "Uh…his friend brought him home about ten last night…His condition hasn't changed all night." Jonathan's voice was raspy with defeat. His eyes teared, Martha gripped his hand as they watched one of the EMTs insert an intravenous line.
The two EMTs looked at each other with wide eyes. "If he has been like this all night we need to move him now." They looked up at Martin who nodded for them to proceed.
"On whose authority? We are still his parents!" Jonathan made one last effort to protest.
Martin looked coldly at him. "Our instructions are from the man with temporary custody of Clark."
Jonathan felt a cold hand squeezing his guts. He didn't have to ask to know the answer but he voiced it anyway. "Who has temporary custody?"
"Lex Luthor."
Jonathan closed his eyes as Martha buried her cries in his chest.
Within a few moments, Clark was secured to the gurney in the back of the ambulance, an oxygen mask over his face. Detained for paperwork, Jonathan and Martha stood on the porch watching their boy being taken away.
Five.
Lex watched through the glass of the intensive care room where his friend lay. The nurses were resituating Clark after a very aggressive treatment to clear his lungs. Lex didn't like going against Clark's parents but Mr. Kent was a proud man and couldn't be trusted to do what was right for Clark.
When Lex arrived at the hospital earlier the doctor pulled him aside giving him all the gory details of what was happening to his friend. Sever lung infection, cause unknown. A deep suction device that is used on cystic fibrosis patients found traces of debris in the lungs. Blood and tissue samples and a sample of the mucus in Clark's lungs were all sent to the lab for analysis. Results could be a long time coming since most of it had to be sent away for testing.
Lex's attention was caught by Jonathan and Martha nearly sprinting down the hall. Jonathan paused beside Lex as Martha went in to her son.
Martha pushed past the shock of seeing her boy so helpless. He was partially reclined in the hospital bed, his face pale, dark smudges under his eyes. An oxygen tube ran under his nose and behind his ears, an IV was taped to the back of his left hand bringing life saving medicines, hydration and nourishment. Wires came out from under his green v-neck hospital shirt transmitting his vitals to a nearby bank of equipment. His breath rattled in and wheezed out.
She pulled up a chair and sat beside him, her right hand gripping his. "Mommy's here, Clark," she whispered. She reached with her left hand to brush the hair from his forehead. He was still so hot. A whimpering sigh escaped her lips. "Oh, my baby."
"It is nothing personal, Mr. Kent. Clark is my friend. I will do everything in my power to protect him," Lex stated matter-of-factly not really looking Jonathan in the eyes.
Jonathan just looked at Lex, not bothering to hide his hatred. "Some day, Lex, you will realize that money can't buy everything. And it certainly will not buy you a place in this family." He turned and went in to his wife and son.
Lex fumed at the closed door. Was that what he was doing? Was he trying to buy Clark's family? Clark's family, full of love and respect and trust.
A lanky man with receding hair and small round lenses, came up to Lex.
"Doctor Collins," Lex greeted with no expression. "Clark's parents are here. Please include them in any test results and treatments. I want hourly updates, doctor."
"Yes, Mr. Luthor," the doctor acknowledged, making notes in the patient's file. As Lex strode away down the hall, Doctor Collins went into Clark's room. "Mr. and Mrs. Kent?"
Jonathan stood to shake the man's hand. Martha half smiled up at him not taking her hand from her son's.
Dr. Collins pulled up a plastic chair to sit before the couple. "Your son was exposed to something as of yet unknown. Whatever it was, it got in his lungs. His lungs were hurt so they reacted by producing excessive mucus that flooded his alveoli which hindered oxygen exchange. This excessive mucus has caused an infection that his body is trying to burn out- the cause of the fever. The body is trying to ride itself of the excessive mucus by coughing. The trachea and bronchial tubes are inflamed and irritated from the coughing thus the blood in his sputum." Doctor Collins paused his tirade letting the information sink in. The couple were, after all, only farmers. "He is very ill but we are doing what we can. Is there anything else you can tell me that might help?"
Jonathan knew he was being patronized but right now he really didn't care. "His…um, clothes," Jonathan's voice was low, gruff with emotion. "His clothes were coated in meteor rock dust……Clark is allergic to meteor rocks."
Martha watched her husband tell a bit of their precious secret with tears in her eyes. She nodded her approval of his decision.
"That might help but I have never heard of an allergy to meteor rocks," the doctor commented as he scribbled notes in Clark's file. "We are still waiting on the test results but right now we are running a full spectrum antibiotic, albuterol treatments by mask every four hours and oxygen via the nasal cannula."
Jonathan and Martha's eyes locked. "Test results?" Jonathan questioned fearfully.
Doctor Collins stood. "Yes, we sent blood and tissue samples and a sample of the mucus from his lungs. It is the only way to make a definitive diagnosis." With that the doctor left.
Six.
The sun had fallen a few hours ago, leaving Smallville in the dark.
Lex stood outside Clark's room, gazing thoughtfully through the window.
Jonathan and Martha were still at their son's bedside. They looked worn and tired.
Doctor Collins walked up to Lex. "Mr. Luthor, some of the test results are in."
Jonathan looked up at the window noticing Lex was back. Doctor Collins walked up to him, telling him something. Lex's gazed snapped to Jonathan's, locking on to him. Jonathan's insides turned to ice at that stare. 'He knows.'
Lex pulled out his cell phone, dialing, not breaking eye contact with Jonathan. Holding the phone to his ear, he turned from the window. "Doctor, I want Clark Kent ready to move within the hour."
Doctor Collins balked. "No way, Mr. Luthor. A move could kill him. Give him until the morning." he pleaded.
Lex narrowed his eyes at the doctor. "Fine but I want security outside that door all night." With that he turned, to stride down the corridor speaking into his phone. 'Not like anything ever seen before' echoing through his mind.
Jonathan watched Lex finally leave. "Martha, we have to get Clark out of here."
"Jonathan, we can't move him. We don't know what that would do to him." Martha gripped his hands. "Can't we wait?"
"Lex knows something. The doctor was talking to him then he called someone and left." The urgency in his voice struck fear in her heart.
"Okay," she agreed, firming her chin as well as her resolve.
Near midnight a red pickup rumbled up to the front doors of the Smallville Medical Center. Martha watched anxiously for her husband and son to come out.
After waiting nearly a half-hour for the security man to drop his guard, Jonathan nearly jumped for joy when the man headed to the bathroom. Jonathan rounded the corner and slipped in Clark's room. He turned off the monitor alarms and IV drips, carefully removing the sticky pads from his son's chest and the IV port from the back of his hand. He stuck a band aid he found in the drawer of the bedside table on the bleeding hole left by the port. Lastly, he untangled the nasal cannula from his son's face.
"Clark," he called to his son softly. "Clark, we have to go now. I would appreciate some help." Seeing no response, he pulled Clark up, slinging him over his shoulders in a sloppy fireman's carry.
Martha let out a heavy breath when she saw Jonathan come out of the Medical Center with Clark slung over his shoulders. She shoved open the passenger door as they neared.
Sirens brought both of their attention as two police cars, sirens blaring, pulled in front of and behind the truck, effectively pinning it. Officers jumped out, weapons drawn. Lex sauntered out of the medical center behind Jonathan.
"Mr. Kent. I knew you hadn't given up."
Jonathan's knees wobbled. His burden was getting heavier by the second. He refused to give up. "This is my son, Lex. I am taking him home."
"Clark needs special treatment, Mr. Kent." He stepped cautiously closer. "He is a special boy." He continued, keeping his voice low. "You love your son, Mr. Kent. No one blames you for that." He stopped, hands in pockets. "I promise, no harm will come to him."
Jonathan was tired. He blinked heavily. Lowering to his knees, he set Clark's bare feet against the ground, slipping the boy from his shoulders. Carefully cradling his head, Jonathan lowered his son to lay on the cement. Jonathan turned, standing tall, meeting Lex's gaze. Martha jumped from the truck to check on her boy.
Lex watched Jonathan straighten to his full height. Jonathan chose to lose this battle to ensure his victory of the war against Lex Luthor. Lex half-smiled, nodding to the police officers. Two men came forward, cuffed Jonathan, and led him away reading his rights.
"Lex," Martha pleaded from her kneeling position by Clark. "Please." Her lip quivered as tears streamed down her face.
Two male nurses and Doctor Collins came out with a gurney. They quickly loaded Clark onto it and headed back inside. Martha didn't miss the distasteful look the doctor shot her as he took her son away.
Lex watched Martha as she shivered in the March night. "Don't worry, Mrs. Kent. I will take good care of your son. I would never let any harm come to Clark. You must realize that."
Martha just looked at him, shrugging helplessly. She started to walk back into the Center when Lex caught her arm. "I think you need to go home. Get some rest."
"I would rather not." Straightforward, unflinching.
"I'm afraid I must insist." Lex motioned to the two remaining officers. "Gentlemen, escort Mrs. Kent home. She is exhausted and I want to be sure she gets there safely." Lex never dropped her gaze.
Seven.
Lex had Clark moved into the mansion. A bedroom across the hall from his own was converted into a large hospital room and top specialists from New York flown in to give him twenty-four hour care.
Lex stood at Clark's bedside. The boy was still pale and his chest rattled but his temperature was down which, according to the doctors, was a good sign. An IV was in his left hand, monitors on his chest, and a nasal cannula wrapped behind his ears.
"Clark," Lex started talking, unsure of how to put a voice to his feelings. "Since that day, on the bridge, you have considered me a friend…You never judged me or let my father's actions sway your opinion of me…you took me for who I was…faults and all." Lex swiped angrily at a tear trying to escape his eye. "You are like a brother to me, Clark…Not only since that day on the bridge but…according to the blood work…you were affected by the meteors too." Lex sniffed. "All this time…" he shrugged. "wasted because I thought you were all about some ulterior motive…Instead you were the real thing." Heavy breath. "I'm sorry, Clark…for doubting you."
Clark was in the dark. He had been fighting the dark forever, yearning for the light. A voice pulled at him. His body hurt and it was hard to breath but he wasn't wracked with shivers any more. A deep breath proved to be a mistake as the air caught in his throat causing a deep cough to explode from his chest.
Lex nearly jumped from his skin when Clark gasped then proceeded to cough so hard Lex thought his lungs would come up. "Doctor!" Lex shouted, grabbing Clark to roll him onto his side so he wouldn't choke.
Doctor Chan ran up next to him. "Elevate him. Get his head up higher than his chest." They pulled him upright on the edge of the bed leaned against Lex. "Good. Now hold him."
Lex held Clark's head tight against his chest.
Doctor Chan pulled up the nebulizer tubing with the breathing mask on the end up to cover Clark's mouth and nose. Switching the machine on, the medicinal mist wafted into Clark's lungs as he gasped. They waited anxiously for the albuterol to take effect. The cough lessened and breath came in longer spurts although still raspy. Doctor Chan stuck a wire thin suction tube down Clark's throat to remove the mucus the cough broke loose.
Lex took a deep breath as Doctor Chan eased Clark back to the bed. Doctor Chan raised the head of the bed until Clark looked as if her were in a La-Z-Boy instead of a hospital bed.
"That one was bad." Having been asthmatic as a young child Lex knew these attacks well.
"Until his body expels the toxin this will continue," Doctor Chan said, adjusting the IV and raising the flow settings on the cannula. "And probably get worse. Now that the fever is lower, his body is fighting harder. We must watch that he doesn't tire and impede the recovery."
Lex nodded taking it all in. Translation: on the road to recovery but not out of the woods yet.
"Do you think it would be wise to let his parents see him?" Lex felt wrong hiding Clark from his parents but after the great hospital break he couldn't risk another ignorant rescue attempt.
Doctor Chan looked thoughtful then shook his head. "We need to keep contact with the outside to a minimum. He doesn't need to be fighting other viruses or bacteria. "
"…" a slight whimper was all Clark could muster.
Lex's sharp ears caught it though. He turned back to the bed. "Clark?"
Eyes still closed, slight moving of the mouth. "D…." Whisper, heavy exhale.
Lex gripped Clark's hand, willing his friend to wake. "Clark. Wake up, Clark."
Doctor Chan raised Clark's eyelid shining a penlight into it. "Clark. Can you hear me?" The doctor paused. A slight nod, down and up. Doctor Chan smiled at Lex. "You need to rest, Clark. You have been very ill." Twitch of the eyebrow.
Clark's brain swam in fog. He could hear people talking. Something about him being 'ill.' That confused him. He had never been sick, ever. He just wanted his Mom and Dad. "Da…d?" His voice wouldn't work. The more he tried the more he hurt. His throat felt like it was on fire, something was sitting on his chest not letting him take deep breaths. He tried again to call his parents but his air caught in his throat, choking him. He gasped, fighting for air.
Doctor Chan recognized the signs that Clark was struggling to draw breath. "Call Doctor Phillips in here," he ordered, rolling the boy onto his side. Lex disappeared then reappeared shortly pulling a tall red headed woman by the coat sleeve.
She assessed quickly and pulled the air bag from the makeshift medical supply cabinet. She placed the bag firmly over Clark's nose and mouth and began forcing air into his lungs with each squeeze of the bag.
Lex stood out of the way too shocked to move. This one was bad.
Over the next two days, Clark had many episodes that required both doctors and sometimes Lex to bring him through it. Nearly one week after collapsing on Lex's doorstep, Clark Kent opened his eyes.
His first sight was of his mother, curled in an overstuffed armchair. After Clark nearly choked to death that day, Lex talked Doctor Chan into letting one of Clark's parent come in to be with him. Since the 'cows wouldn't feed themselves' the logical choice was Martha but she called Jonathan every day with updates. She was beside Clark night and day leaving only once to shower.
"M…" his voice rasped. "Mom."
Martha's eyes shot open, looking around disoriented, her gaze came to rest on her boy…who was watching her. "OhmyGod, Clark." She burst into tears, wrapping her arms around him. Her heart praised the Lord as she clung to her boy.
Eight.
Clark had the head of the bed raised into a sitting position. He was dutifully holding the mask over his nose and mouth, breathing deeply. The albuterol mist wafted into his nostrils. He didn't like the smell, it was sour and left a bad tasting film in his mouth. But submitting to the treatments was getting him closer to going home.
The sleep over at Lex's house would have been fun if he were well; servants catering to his every desire. At the same time he didn't like that Lex has his dad held in jail overnight but then again it was for Clark's good. His thoughts went through these loops trying not to take sides, not to choose between Lex and his dad. Lex was his best friend but his dad was, well, his dad. He closed his eyes, relaxing his head back against the pillow.
By the end of the second week, the doctors declared Clark strong enough to go home. He still slept a lot but his fever was gone and his coughing fits were down to a couple a day.
Jonathan came to pick them up around six, pulling the truck right up to the front of the mansion. He was still angry at Lex but refused to let that ruin this day.
Martha came out the front door, arms full of supplies and equipment. Clark followed, pale and weak in the knees. He looked smaller, somehow, in his regular clothes. His hair was disheveled and unruly…but he was smiling. Jonathan got out to get an arm around his son.
"Hi, Dad." Clark's voice was hoarse.
Jonathan smiled, ruffling his son's hair. "Let's go home, son."
Once everyone was in the truck, Jonathan driving, Martha in the middle, and Clark by the door, Jonathan could breath a sigh of relief. His family was back together physically and legally. Once the doctors had released Clark, Lex turned custody back to the Kents.
Martha and Jonathan spoke quietly. Clark's head bobbed as he dozed off. Martha looked at her exhausted son. She turned to lean her back against her husband and put a hand behind Clark's neck and gently pulled him to lean against her chest. His eyes opened for a second but he didn't resist.
Jonathan parked outside the Beanery. Leaving the truck running, he ran in to grab some coffee. Clark shivered slightly. Martha turned the heater fan on high directing the vents at her son. She stroked his hair around his ear, just breathing him in. Without him she was lost. Her heart was torn out when he was taken away. This day it was returned, larger.
A tap at the drivers side window broke into her thoughts. A smiling Lana Lang waved at her. Martha motioned her to climb in. Lana didn't hesitate.
"Hi, Lana," Martha spoke barely above a whisper.
"Hi, Mrs. Kent," she greeted with a smile. She looked over to the slumbering Clark. "Rumors have been flying all over school. Clark has been abducted by aliens or kidnapped by Lex or both…." she trailed off.
"Clark has been very sick, Lana," Martha informed. "Lex has been…kind…enough to get Clark special care at the mansion. They released him today but I doubt he'll be in school for another week." She continued stroking his hair as she spoke.
Lana reached out, running a hand across Clark's forehead and down the side of his face. "I am glad he is getting better," she said, straightforward. She exchanged a smile with Martha.
A tap on the glass, drew their attention to Jonathan standing at the door, each hand holding a Styrofoam coffee cup. Lana opened the door as he stepped aside for her to exit the truck. She waved at Martha, smiled at Jonathan as she jumped out. "Bye, Mr. And Mrs. Kent."
Jonathan smiled at his wife as he climbed in his seat. "What was that about?"
"Oh, she was just worried."
Once home, Jonathan came to the passenger door and roused Clark enough to get him up to his room and settled into bed. The next half-hour was spent setting up the nebulizer, emergency oxygen tank, and apnea machine. Pasting the sticky pads for the apnea machine on Clark's chest didn't even disturb their exhausted son. The doctors said he would sleep extensively because his body was still working hard to exchange oxygen.
Martha sat on the edge of Clark's bed reading through the pages of instructions. No going outside in cold weather, a nebulizer treatment every four hours around the clock, no exertion. The remaining pages were detailed treatments for various scenarios that could happen should Clark relapse. What wasn't on the paper was why his abilities hadn't returned.
Jonathan came back in with a glass of water to set on the bedside table. He put his hands on Martha's shoulders, kneading them with his finger tips. "He's fine, Martha," Jonathan tried to set her at ease.
"His abilities are still gone. He wanted to be normal but I'm not sure it is worth his health," she whispered back.
"Come on." Jonathan pulled her up. "I am putting you to bed."
She started to protest but Jonathan interrupted, "Martha, I can read the doctor's instructions as well as you. I'll take care of things tonight."
She nodded, giving in. Kissing her husband goodnight, she went to bed.
Clark slept through the night, even dozing through his treatments. Jonathan watched his son sleep. He was worried. Clark's abilities were part of him, kept him safe, kept him healthy, with them gone would his body be able to tolerate life on Earth? He would be susceptible to all the viruses and bacteria native to this planet and no nature immunities.
Clark began to gasp and cough. The apnea alarm screamed. Leaning over the edge of the bed, he spit the offending phlegm into the old ice cream bucket on the floor designated for that purpose. He lay for a moment, catching his breath. A hand on his back startled his eyes open. His dad's concerned face came into view.
"Ok?"
Clark nodded, wiping his mouth with a proffered damp washcloth. "I hate that." His voice was still hoarse.
Morning brought a light rain and chill air.
Clark sat on the couch wrapped in a heavy quilt, enduring yet another breathing treatment. His mom came in from the kitchen with a big cup of steaming cocoa. He smiled up at her under the mask. When the mist ran out, she set the equipment aside and handed him the cocoa.
"Thanks, Mom."
Martha's eyebrows raised. "Your voice sounds better."
Clark grinned around his mug.
The day was uneventful. Cough, spit, sleep, treatment, yadda, yadda, yadda. Jonathan came in as the sun slipped out of sight. He was tired and dirty but he had a smile for his family. Clark was stretched out on the couch, dozing; Martha sat in the rocking chair reading. When he cleared his throat, she looked up at him with a smile which he returned. He motioned to Clark, 'doing ok?'. Martha nodded 'yes'. Jonathan pointed toward the ceiling, 'going to take a shower'. Martha gave a thumbs up, 'good idea'.
While he was upstairs, Martha reheated her husbands supper. They talked quietly at the bar in the kitchen as he ate. Mostly about Clark- his progress and his missing abilities. A knock at the kitchen door interrupted their conversation.
Martha went to the door. "Oh, hi, Lex." She tried to be polite. She was, after all, grateful for her sons health, but this man took her son away and could do it again at any time.
"Hello, Mrs. Kent. I came to check on Clark." Lex came in as she opened the screen for him. Nodding to Jonathan he acknowledged, "Mr. Kent."
"What's the matter, Lex, think we're withholding his medication?" Jonathan snipped.
Lex just looked at him, not wanting to fuel the fire.
"He's asleep on the couch," Martha directed.
Jonathan grit his teeth as Lex walked into the living room. He pushed the food around on his plate trying to curb his temper.
Lex walked up the where Clark lay. He was wrapped in a heavy quilt, his face had a bit of color, and his he wasn't gurgling at every breath. Lex pushed all the equipment to the side and sat on the edge of the coffee table. "Clark?" He spoke barely above a whisper.
Blurry green eyes opened, wandering the room before coming to rest on Lex. A slow smile, "S'up, Lex?"
Lex grinned. "You sound better."
Nodding, Clark pushed himself up a little higher. "Thanks for everything, Lex. I hear I was in pretty bad shape."
Lex looked down at his intertwined hands. "Clark…I would never do anything to hurt your family."
Clark watched him with wide, curious eyes. "I know that, Lex. My dad is just protective."
"I know your secret, Clark." Stated simply, resolutely.
Clark's smile faltered, his body tensed. "What do you mean?"
"I know…and you should have told me sooner. I am a big boy I can handle it."
"Lex…I'm not sure I follow." Clark fidgeted.
"Being meteor-affected isn't something to broadcast, I understand that- the prejudice us a lot to bear, believe me." Lex met Clark's bright eyes. "But I will be your friend no matter what, Clark."
Clark smiled reservedly.
Jonathan turned from the conversation between his son and Lex Luthor. He disliked Lex but he couldn't hate him, his interference had saved Clark's life.
Lex patted Clark's shoulder, pulled the quilt up tight around him and left.
"Mr. Kent…"
"Lex," Jonathan interrupted. "I…if you hadn't have been so stubborn my son might have died."
Lex watched Jonathan struggle with his speech. "If you hadn't been so stubborn you would have recognized my intentions."
Jonathan nodded, looking any where but at Lex. "I guess I am trying apologize for not trusting you." He winced at those words.
Lex put a hand on Jonathan's arm. "Mr. Kent, I understand you wanting to protect your son, especially keeping the meteor effects secret. Clark is my friend so all my resources will be dedicated to his health and safety, as well as the rest of your family."
Jonathan nodded meeting Lex's sincere gray eyes. He gave a half smile and a nod. Lex patted his arm and left.
"Mrs. Kent." Lex nodded to her on his way out the door.
Nine.
Nearly three weeks after that horrible night, Clark's powers still hadn't returned. He strolled around the fence line of the farm, thinking. Being 'normal' wasn't so bad but recovering in weeks instead of minutes, hours and, at the most, days really sucked.
A deep breath of the crisp air, caught in his throat bringing a deep cough. He spat the phlegm in the dirt, rubbed it in with his boot. 'Disgusting.' Continuing his walk, his head felt clearer, the constriction in his chest lessened, the ache in his muscles disappeared. Energy coursed through his body, overloading his senses, driving his legs to run. He ran fast, then faster, then into super speed. He laughed as he raced home.