"Thirty-six cups of coffee on the wall, thirty-six cups of coffee. You take one down, pass it around, thirty-six cups of coffee still on the wall." The living room in the Kent house was silent and peacefully for the early morning, around three to be exact, as everyone in the area tried to stay awake. It was silent besides the signing of a seventeen year old boy sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest and his elbows resting on them bored and tiredly while his chin was placed in his hands.

It had been at least an hour since the sleeping teen on the couch had finally woken up, and since then he had fallen asleep once again, leaving them with nothing to do but wait by his side hoping something would change in his condition. Sitting in the rocking chair that was by the top of the couch where the boy's head was resting, was Jonathan - a steaming mug in his hands as he rested his neck on the back of the hard chair. Lounging on the floor near him was Pete, who had stayed in the same spot for the entire night's duration. As the only alert teenager in the room, Pete sluggishly sung out a song of his boredom. It wasn't annoying the father though. It in fact kept him from falling asleep.

Yawning loudly, Pete turned his head over and laid his cheek down on his hands so he was looking directly at the man sitting in the seat. Jonathan brought the cup he had in his hands up to his mouth and gulped it down. Exhaling afterwards and setting it down on the end table next to him, he watched the boy stare at the cup, then him, then the cup again before taking a deep breath and then sighing heavily himself.

"Thirty-five cups of coffee on the wall, thirty-five cups of coffee." Pete sung, getting a laugh out of Jonathan while watching him shake his head and lean back into the rocking chair, which went back and forth until he stopped the pattern from going on with his feet.

"Didn't know you had the talent to turn an annoying car song into… An annoying regular song, Pete." The teen laughed some while Jonathan forced a weary grin on his face, looking over at him and seeing him shrug and sit up straight to lean on the couch backboard and close his drowsy eyes with somewhat of a groan.

"Yeah, well, I think you can do about anything at ten past three in the morning." Pete simply replied, hitting his head on the wood for a second to wake himself up as suddenly another person came walking into the room and he opened up his eyes to see a red haired woman come strolling up to him with a blue coffee beaker in her hands. Bending down to him, she let the boy take it from her as she smiled resignedly, her eyes heavy and tired looking while she forced a small grin on her lips.

"You can go upstairs and get some sleep honey; you really don't have to stay up with us." Martha pointed out, walking over to a kitchen chair that was beside her husband and next to the couch when the teen took the cup and shook his head while he yawned once again.

"No, I'm good. I don't think I could sleep anyway." Pete merely left it at that, knowing that honestly he did not want to tell the Kent's that he was still and was probably going to be for a long time shaken up by what he saw a while ago. There was just so much blood; so much screaming that had happened that was lingering in his mind. He didn't know how he could even dare to sleep with that and the fact that his best friend was on the sofa he was leaning against practically dying. Pete could still see the face that the boy held when he asked what he was doing there, which meant it was obvious the fight they had was bothering him.

Dropping the thought immediately however when he knew he would take it too far and be guilt ridding himself even more then he already was, the dark colored boy licked his lips and took a sip of the coffee that was in the mug he now held when suddenly a noise caused him to freeze. He wasn't the only one either. Martha and Jonathan snapped their heads over to the sofa where they heard a weak yet hearable moan that came from the boy lying on the couch rolling his head back and forth.

"Is he waking up?" Pete asked right away, standing up to his knees and crawling over to the couch to look over at the man and see him jadedly nod his head while lean forward in the rocking chair and grab the boy who laid on the couch's hand dolefully.

"Hey Clark." Jonathan whispered softly, stroking the skin on the palm gently as Clark groaned heavily and leaned his head over on the pillow so when he opened his eyes he could be looking at his father who wearily put a smile on his face. The teen could hardly see it though with his eyesight so blurry and his mind only focused on trying to stay awake and remembering where he was and what had happened. He was so out of it at the moment that he didn't notice the other two people in the room until his mother's fingers running through his hair came to his awareness and his friend being by him along with the two adults was in view.

"How are you feeling sweetie?" Martha sympathetically inquired, tilting her head to the side despondently while the boy moaned and cracked open his dry lips to mumble out a few words that almost couldn't be heard, and when they were, sadness dropped in everyone's bodies at the cry the boy let out.

"It…i-it h-hurts…so m-much mom." Clark whimpered, closing his eyes tightly and letting out a silent cry as Martha covered her mouth with her hand with tears in her eyes and Jonathan simply sat still, staring at his hurting son in misery. The pain he was going through plainly showed by the few actions he gave and the cries he let out, which made the father feel even more worse for what he had done to make his own child feel like that. Gulping down the large lump in his throat that threatened to bring water to his eyes, the man licked his lips and nodded his head, having to take a moment to gather up his strength again from the words the teen had spoken.

"I know son…just hang in there, everything's going to be all right." Jonathan reassured him, while doing so his conscious screaming at him loudly and clearly for lying to the boy. He knew everything wasn't going to be all right, but what was he suppose to do anyways, tell him he was dying an excruciating death? It was the only choice he had. The thought did not help much however since he was telling himself the same thing for what he had done to the teen about eighteen hours ago.

Moaning, Clark sucked in a deep breath of air that he soon regretted doing so, a burning fire being lit in his chest at the inhale that caused him to wince and bit his lower lip while uncontrollably squeezing his father's hand weakly. It was irrepressible that he found his voice and spoke through the agony though. "W-what day…is it?" The farm boy asked, gulping loudly and opening his eyes once the pain faded away as his parents exchanged glances and debated whether they should tell him. The time was too long they thought though and the other teenager in the room spoke up.

"Well, to be exact it's Sunday. But you know, most people don't change dates until they wake up, and when they wake up at two in the morning they just call it the day it was, so really it's Saturday. But if you want to be technical, yeah, it's Sunday." Pete blinked after he said that, pausing for a second and sitting back down on the floor in wonder to what he had truly just spoken.

"Sorry…uh, hyped up on the caffeine." He chuckled nervously, shutting up suddenly however when he saw his friend looking at him in confusion. Pete saw soon even if he did sound weird that it wasn't his words that confused him. It was the fact that both days he had said were so far apart from the last time he remembered being awake and not in the pain and smarting, he was in now.

"Sunday? How…long was I…out?" Clark breathed, trying to ignore the agonizing throbbing in his stomach and the nausea that was overwhelming him, making him want to throw up his guts and then just die right there. Being dead was better then suffering the pain, he was feeling now anyways. The feelings and tortures he was experiencing were too much for him to handle, and sometimes he wondered if dying was just the best for him.

Running his hands down his face, Jonathan sighed loudly and leaned forward even some more as he held his son's hand gently. "A while." The father simply exhaled, balling his other free hand into a feeble fist while silence took over the room. Nevertheless was it only for a short time, and it wasn't long until the enervated voice spoke up again, this time locking his eyes on his father's face and looking at him a little puzzled and a little hurt through the anguish that undoubtedly showed all over his expression.

"Dad…" Clark choked out, inhaling once again and taking in the sudden yet expected twinge that engulfed him.

"What…what happened?" He queried, licking his arid lips afterwards as Jonathan looked up at him and gazed at his face. The father couldn't find the right words to reply with to what he had just asked. He knew what he meant but at the same time wondered what he truly wanted to know. Jonathan knew that he knew he was shot, but didn't know who did shoot him and what had fully happened. He wondered if he wanted to know about the other things that had happened before he was shot however. It left him no choice but to take a deep breath and lean back into the chair he sat in to answer his question with the only thing he wanted to say.

"You…you were shot and I made a stupid choice by….by taking the bullet out." Jonathan reminded him, the whole room knowing what he meant by 'taking the bullet out' as he watched Clark groan and close his eyes while he remembered it all. Seeing someone lurking in the barn, everything going black, waking up, talking to his friend who was in the living room that very moment, and then screaming out the yelps that to that moment still made his throat dry and croaky. As he did recall it all, he could hear his mother's soft but very angry voice come into his ears.

"Jonathan, you did what you had to do." Martha austerely told him for what seemed like the millionth time, understanding that her husband felt guilty for having to do dangerous engrave on his son but not seeing why he was taking it to the level of thinking there was something else he could have done. Closing his eyes for a second and sitting up straight to look at his wife, the father balled his hands into tight fist once more while he replied to what the woman had said.

"Yeah, and because of that Clark's dying Martha." Jonathan informed her, taking a deep breath afterwards as he ignored even looking at his son after he said that, knowing that he had to be shocked for what he had heard and even more scared then he already was now knowing he was dying. And while he did ignore the red haired woman made the boy's presence for a moment a retort in the room.

"What else were you going to do Jonathan? Just let him sit there and be killed by the Kryptonite? You had no choice!" Martha exclaimed, shooting up from her knees as she did while both didn't hear a weak and frail voice enter the living room, and the only person who heard it was the other teen sitting down on the floor who snapped his head over to his friend on the sofa. He was just about to speak up when another shout was made and cut him off from even taking an inhale to speak.

"Damn it Martha, what I did is killing him now for crying out loud. If I didn't cut him to get that bullet out he wouldn't be on this couch fighting for his life!" Jonathan bellowed, also standing up from his seat and pointing his finger over to the divan in anger.

"Mr. Kent…" Pete finally spoke up, his voice however like a whisper compared to the yelling the couple was doing. "No, he wouldn't even be here! Jonathan-" Angered, the dark colored boy stood up and closed his eyes tightly as he opened his mouth and cut of the mother from finishing what she had to say.

"Mr. Kent!" Pete hollered over the voices, getting the man to turn over to him with upset eyes and an infuriated expression.

"What Pete!?" Jonathan snapped back, his hands still in tight fist as suddenly he saw, or more say heard what the teen was trying to say when a fragile voice was heard through the silence that had lastly took it's place in the area again.

"Dad…" Clark hoarsely said as loud as he could, trying to sit up on the couch but ending up falling down immediately at the pain that took over his chest and stomach. And with his arms being as weak as they were where he could hardly even move a finger, so when his father bent down to his knees instantly so he was face to face with him he was able to relax once more and sigh with somewhat of a cry.

"Clark, what is it son?" Jonathan softly asked, his voice now gentle and calm as the boy gulped loudly to get his throat moist to speak again while he rolled his head over to the side and looked straight into his father's eyes as his own eyelids started to close in tiredness.

"Who…who shot me?" Clark inquired. Straight away Jonathan froze, and as Martha and Pete looked at each other worriedly, the father didn't know how to answer his son's question. At the moment the teen needed to get well again, none less stay alive--he didn't know if he could dare to tell him who had actually almost killed him with the condition he was in.

"Dad, I have…a-a right to know…w-who did do this t-to…me." Clark stumbled, showing his father through his expression that he wanted to know who was lurking in the barn after all and fired a gunshot at him that was made out of his only weakness. Gulping loudly and running his hand down his face, the older Kent sighed and shook his head dejectedly.

"I don't know who he was Clark…but he said his name was Morgan Edge." This time it was the boy on the couch who froze in pure utter alarm at what he had just heard.

"W-…what?" Clark didn't even know if his voice could even be heard, all he did know was that he was shocked at what he was told. It was as if someone had just dropped a ton of bricks on his head, or shot him suddenly, which the feeling for him was something he could compare to. It couldn't be true though, no. Yeah, he was expecting someone he knew to have been the one who had shot him, but not that one name that was just spoken.

Seeing something wrong with his son, the father leaned forward and looked at the boy's face seriously. "Clark, did you know this guy?" Jonathan asked, watching Clark gape his mouth open some and wince as he closed his eyes to avoid looking at the man in fear of what he was going to have to say next. And just when he was about to talk, he suddenly realized something in the words of what his father had said.

"What do you mean by…'did'?" The boy questioned as both him and the father looked at each other in fear. The room went silent after those words were said too as both Jonathan and Clark knew that they were going to have to confess to each other secrets that would affect both in different ways. But for now, the room stayed silent, and remained that way while the father and son gazed at each other fretfully…

To be Continued…