Note: Thanks for reviewing. Sorry for the long wait again, but I've been really busy with finals coming up next week. (ugh) This chap doesn't have much clana, but the next one will! (Sorry!)
And, Inu Girl 1445: To reply to your comment about the clois moment that supposedly happened in the last chap, there was none! I'm all clana and I'm sorry if I made it seem like there was clois. There will be no clois in this fic at all. Anyway, on with the story now.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Smallville: The Graveyard
9:12 A.M.
Monday, June 14th
"Hey, Dad." Clark Kent was kneeling next to a slab of stone with a pictures of a sunflower, a star, and a hammer carved into the stone. Even in afterlife, Jonathon Kent was still hard at work tidying up the farm for the time when Martha Kent would join him. Clark and his mother had made sure that Jonathon's tombstone would reflect his life. The sunflower for his wife who spent a great deal of time tending and caring for them, the star for his son who had traveled a long way to earth, and the hammer as a reminder of how Jonathon Kent had spent most of his life: as a dedicated, hard working farmer, father, and husband.
When Jonathon Kent died, the farm had been at its end, and it still was. Clark and his mother had tried to keep the farm running, but eventually they gave up. Martha took over the Talon as her steady job and occasionally baked goods for local shelters and hospitals. Clark tried odd jobs here and there, but Martha Kent had insisted that he stop. Jonathon Kent had died right before Clark's graduation from Smallville High. Death had a funny way of working. Sometimes it just happened when no one expected it to, and other times, it just happened when you prayed that it wouldn't. That was how Clark had felt the day of the funeral. Before all he felt was numbness and disbelief. The day of the funeral was when the tears came; when he finally realized his dad was going six feet under.
They had a small, quiet funeral; a few friends, family, and local community members who respected Jonathon's dedication to the farm life when all they saw were bills and dead ends. Martha's dad had come to finally make peace with the man who stole his daughter's heart. Pete had driven down to Smallville from Wichita the day before. Chloe and her dad were also in attendance. Chloe was the one who had comforted Clark after learning of his father's failed heart. Their senior year together had been tough, but Chloe had seen that he needed a friend badly. So, the both of them had pushed all their doubts and negativity away. Lois Lane had sent her best wishes to the remainder of the Kent family and apologized for not being able to make it. Lex Luthor had even come, but hanged around in the background knowing Clark and him weren't exactly on good terms. But, the one person who had been there that Clark had sincerely doubted that would be was Lana Lang. He and her had drifted so far apart that year that they couldn't even mutter a 'hi' in the hallways. In the end though, they had pulled themselves together, drowned out their dignity, and started a clean slate.
And here he was, Clark Kent, sitting crossed legged next to his father's grave, the Kansas sun beating furiously down upon him, and a troubled expression grazing his young, youthful face. The earlier events of the day were still on his sharp mind.
Clark sighed. There was a slight breeze in the air and around him, the green grass flourished. Birds were singing in the early sun and the trees swayed. It was another typical warm, sunny day in Smallville. The only peculiar thing in sight was Clark Kent about to converse with the dead.
"You must think I'm crazy…sitting out here on the dry, itchy grass about to spill out my life," Clark gave a small smile and scratched the back of his head. "Talking with the dead is usually Lana's territory." Clark laughed and was happy to hear his father laughing along with him. "I just have so many things to say…like how I'm sorry I haven't visited you lately."
Clark waited for his father to reply. "Son, you're supposed to be out there living your life; not conversing with the dead."
"I know…I just need to get a lot of things off my chest," Clark tried to explain.
Clark paused and heard his father mention something about talking to Lana. "I will…I just need to think this out before I go to her; I don't want to worry her."
Clark could imagine his father's face—serious, but light. He could visualize him nodding. Clark continued, deciding to spill the good news first. "Lana and I are engaged."
"I'm glad to hear that, son."
"I only wish you could be there," Clark conceded, trying to force the tears that were threatening to spill to go back.
"Clark, your mother told you that I am always with you," Clark heard his father's voice distantly say.
"Yeah, but…I mean physically…" Clark sighed, knowing his father wouldn't understand.
But to his surprise, he did. "I know what you mean, son."
A comfortable moment of silence followed and Clark took the time to try to decide how he was going to tell his dad what had happened.
"What's on your mind?"
In a way, Clark was happy that his father had found new psychic powers. It was handy in situations like this.
"I couldn't save someone," Clark said, but that was all it took for Jonathon to understand.
"Clark…you know it wasn't your fault. You can't save everyone, son. No matter how hard you try, there's always someone else dying. It's just how the world works."
"I should've gotten there sooner…." Clark muttered.
"No, Clark. You can't go around blaming yourself for this woman's death. You did the best that you could." Jonathon Kent's voice was kind, but stern.
Clark didn't argue back; he knew it wouldn't work. Deep down, Clark knew it wasn't his fault. He just felt so guilty.
"There's more," Clark said. "Lois stole my article…and when I went to confront her…I got so mad. It was almost as if someone else took over my body, only it was just me."
It seemed like an eternity before Jonathon Kent finally spoke. That was the thing about chatting with the dead; sometimes they spoke, sometimes they didn't. Clark was just about to get up and leave when, "Clark, what were you feeling?"
"I…" Clark gulped and took a deep breath before saying, "I felt so angry…I mean the rational thing to do would be to talk to her and work it out. Only, I didn't do that. I…grabbed her wrist and for a moment I just wanted to…hurt her."
When his father didn't say anything, Clark continued saying, "I felt like I was torn apart…like I was Clark Kent and Kal-el. I mean, Kal-el would've hurt her, right? Kal-el was the one who Jor-el wanted to rule over the planet."
Clark brought his hand up to his temple and rubbed. It was all so confusing. Who was he? Was he Clark Kent, the boy that just wanted to live a normal life with the woman of his dreams? Or, was he Kal-el, the Kryptonian meant to rule over mankind with strength?
It was a while before his father spoke. "Clark, remember how I told you, you can't afford to lose your temper?"
Clark nodded, understanding where this was coming from.
"Well, this is one of those times, son. Clark, I can't tell you what's going on with this whole Clark Kent versus Kal-el thing, but I know that in the end you will do that right thing. You will beat Jor-el at his game of destiny. No one else can control your destiny but you."
Clark remained silent to let it all sink in. Maybe Jor-el has changed…he did save my life. Maybe we've been interpreting his message wrong all this time. But, that was for another time.
"Clark, why don't you on home? Go talk to Lana. She can probably help you more than I can…." he trailed off.
Clark nodded and waited to see if his dad had anymore to say. Finally, he stood up and brushed the grass off his jeans. "I love you, Dad."
Clark didn't have to wait to hear his Dad's response. He already knew what it was. He could feel his father's love coursing through him and that was enough.
