Darkness slowly roamed over the skies of Smallville as night time made its way across the atmosphere, the sun still lowering itself from the white clouds while down in the Kent house a troubled and tired father sat down in a hard rocking chair next to the couch in his living room. The day was gradually ending for them all, the clock on the wall showing the man that the time was around eight o'clock at night as he tried to keep himself awake through the hectic and overwhelming day he had experienced.
So much had happened to Jonathan in the past thirteen hours. He went from waking up thinking the day of the week was going to be normal and typical for his wife and him to be kneeling over his unconscious son trying to take a bullet he was shot with out of his body. Now, everything was silent. The room he sat in held nothing but silence and tranquility. With his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, Jonathan watched a young, brunette haired teenager sleep deep in oblivion on the sofa in front of him, his eyes locked on his chest to make sure he was still breathing by the small movement of it going up and down.
Jonathan didn't know how much longer he could stay patient and wait for the boy to wake up to know everything was all right. For once, all he wanted to do was know all the answers instead of being clueless to what fate was going to hit them with. All he knew was that until his son woke up, the only thing he could do was sit there and wait, even if waiting killed him slowly and painfully.
Suddenly feeling the presence of someone else beside him, the father sighed heavily and looked to his left, seeing a red haired woman seating herself in the kitchen table chair close to him and lean her head against his chest so he could wrap his arm around her shoulder and bring her closer to his body. "When is he going to wake up Jonathan?" Martha asked him, looking up at him as his fingers ran through her soft hair while she tried to control any more tears from falling down her cheeks. Shaking his head, the man exhaled heavily and shrugged a little as he continued to stare at the boy on the divan in front of the both of them.
"I don't know." Jonathan sighed, leaning his head back in the rocking chair as he listened to the stumbled breathing of his wife fill his ears. It was obvious that she had been crying all day, and now holding back her tears was a difficultly since there she was looking at her son lying on the sofa unconscious and on his last lines.
"Has he healed at all?" Martha inquired, looking up at him and seeing him shake his head with a miserable 'no', which caused the hope she had left in her to slowly, fade away. If he hadn't even healed then what was the chance of him improving when he, if he, woke up? She just didn't understand how all this could be happening to the one boy who was invulnerable, never got sick, and could bench press a truck. It was all too surreal to see and think about.
"Why's this happening to him Jonathan? He should have healed when the bullet was taken out--he should have woken up by now!" Martha exclaimed, hearing a somewhat frustrated exhale escape her husband's lips as she heard his reply enter her ears and cause her to close her eyes gently at the words she hated to hear.
"We're doing all we can Martha. Until he wakes up all we can do is wait and see if he gets any better." Stillness echoed in both of their hearing after Jonathan had said that, the only sound they heard was either their own breathing or sighs that they uncontrollably exhaled. Suddenly hearing the noise of a loud resonate, Martha snapped her head behind her at the old grandfather clock to see the time change from eight to nine and cause her to gulp loudly when she noticed that nighttime was slowly creeping over the household. The day had dragged on long enough, now hours of darkness told them that coffee and being wide-awake was going to be their new friend for the evening.
Looking back over at her husband, the mother tilted her head to the side all of a sudden and looked him straight in the eyes even if he wasn't looking at her. "You know you still haven't told me what happened." Martha told him, getting his attention as he looked over at her swiftly and darted his eyebrows down, causing her to sigh heavily and close her eyes once again at his actions.
"You can't keep this to yourself Jonathan. Not even Pete knows what happened this morning." She reminded him, hearing him exhale loudly and look down at the ground before rubbing his face and mumbling two words that she could hardly hear, but enter her earshot anyway.
"Morgan Edge." Jonathan muttered, placing his elbows back on his knees and looking wearily at the couch as Martha gazed at him utterly confused.
"What?" She asked softly in bewilderment, tilting her head to the side while listening to the sound of her husband sigh loudly and rub his lethargic eyes with exhaustion.
"Morgan Edge. The person who shot Clark was Morgan Edge." Jonathan informed her sadly, knowing without even having to look up at her that she was still puzzled for the reason that the name didn't come to mind until he continued with what he had to say.
"He must've been some guy Clark met in Metropolis. He didn't tell me much but that he found out his secret by one of his robberies." He said, gulping back the burning lump in his throat as the memories of what happened this morning still haunted his mind. The father could even now see his son lying down on the floor lifeless and the piercing echo of silence throb in his ears. Before his thoughts could go a further back in time the sudden noise of his wife's scared and timid voice entered his hearing and caused him to freeze immediately with fear.
"Why are you talking in past tense Jonathan?" Martha queried when she saw his eyelids close gently and give her the answer that didn't need to be spoken.
"Jonathan you didn't!" She gasped, jumping up from her chair as the man balled his hands into tight fist and took heavy breaths at the woman's words to finding out his horrid actions that he had done early on that daybreak.
"I had no choice Martha, Clark was dead at the time! I thought he killed him, I had no control over what I felt." Jonathan firmly enlightened her, not getting her any calmer as she hung her mouth open in shock and her eyes went wide in stagger.
"I can't believe you Jonathan, you killed a man--" Cutting her off, Jonathan shot up from the rocking chair and threw his hands up in the air in both anger and frustration.
"Don't you think I know that Martha!? Don't you think that's something that I can't stop thinking about as I watch our son die in front of my eyes?" Jonathan yelled as loud as he could, his voice raucous afterwards as Martha stood still at his words, gulping loudly while she watched him slowly fall back down in his seat and place his head in his heads with a grunt. It hit her then that not only was his conscious bothered by the fact that Clark was dying but that he had took a life in a second degree murder. Biting her lower lip, she bent down to her knees and pulled him into a hug even if at first he didn't want to accept it.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't know how you felt." Martha softly spoke, closing her eyes until the embrace was pulled apart by the man and caused her to grab her husband's hand and hold it in hers while forcing him to look straight at her face while she talked.
"Jonathan, trust me, I'm just as worried about Clark as you are. But you can't do this alone. It's something we have to face together." She told him, gazing into his brown eyes and eventually seeing his head go up and down, smiling gently when it did as she pulled him into another cuddle, this time wrapping her arms around his back and leaning her head into his shoulder.
"Yeah…yeah." Jonathan whispered to himself, enfolding her into his arms as quietness flooded the room until an abrupt voice snapped their heads over to the kitchen entrance where a short dark colored boy stood with his hands deep in his pockets and a weary grin on his face.
"Can I join? A hug sounds pretty good right now." Pete stumbled, sucking in his lips as he listened to the mother's delicate laugh fill his ears and the father wave his hand for him to come right over. It was then that the boy felt the weight of sadness taken off his shoulders when the couple allowed him to walk over to them and embrace in the hug.
"Of course sweetie." Martha said, wrapping her arms around his left shoulder and letting him bend down to his knees so he could fit in between the father and the red haired woman. As they held each other close, Jonathan's whispering words flew into their hearing and caused them to close their eyes and try to feel comfort in what he had to say. "Everything's going to be okay." The man told them all in a soft murmur, a few seconds later the boy pulling out of the clasp and nodding his head with a forced smile on his lips to make himself feel bolstered for the distressed parents.
"Yeah…everything's going to be okay." Pete repeated, grinning broadly, as Martha nodded her head in belief soon followed by Jonathan while they sat still in the silent living room. The three didn't know that everything was far from being okay though, and the night ahead of them was going to prove it.
To be Continued…