Stillness ricocheted through the Kent living room as Jonathan and Clark continued to simply stare at each other in fear of saying something, the quietness that roamed around the room deafening and an intense torture that had been there for over three minutes now because of the questions that had been asked from the father and son. While Pete, who was sitting on the floor, looked at his friend's father worriedly, Martha had her hand on her chest in sorrow and shock from what was happening while she watched her husband and son look at each other in fear.
"Dad…what did you do?" Clark choked out, his voice still in a quiet whisper from the pain that pervaded his body as Jonathan closed his eyes gently and gulped loudly, sucking in his lips and then sighing as he stood up from his knees and cracked his dry lips open to force himself to speak.
"It's not important Clark, right now you just need to rest." He told him, ignoring the almost annoyed exhale that came from Pete when he looked down at the floor and saw him lean back into the couch again while putting his head in his hands at his answer. It was obvious that he didn't want to tell his son that he had killed a man, and everyone but the boy himself knew that. After Jonathan said those words though an instant shout was made, and when it was, the older Kent brought his head up and saw his son attempt to shoot up from the couch with the strength he had left to do so.
"It is important dad! What happened-" Clark's voice was cut off with a sudden yelp from his mouth as he held his stomach tightly in pain while he fell back down on the sofa immediately. Clutching his teeth together firmly when he did, different colors roamed around in his eyes as he listened to his mother's cry enter his ears and darkness try to sweep over his mind again from the smart burning that suddenly besieged him.
"Clark!" Martha shrieked, rushing over to the boy and falling down to her own knees as she brushed away the strands of hair from his sweating face while looking up at her husband fearfully. "Jonathan, he's in pain – we have to do something!" She exclaimed, turning her head back over to the teen when he cried out again and threw his skull into the pillow that was under his head in anguish. Taking a few steps up to her, the older man bent down once more to be eye-to-eye level with the teen as he watched him struggle to not scream out in pain on the divan.
"There's nothing we can do Martha." Jonathan whispered just loud enough for his wife to hear, yet not in earshot for the boy on the couch to pick up. Feeling a tear slid down her face, Martha covered her mouth with her fingers as she stood up from her knees and walked backwards from the sofa so she could stand still and try not to break down as she watched her son cry out in pain. Chewing on his bottom lip as he also tried not to cry himself, Jonathan hesitated to move his hand forward and grab his own son's hand, backing away a few times when the boy tossed some and grunted in torment before finally gently grabbing and stroking it gently to comfort him.
"Hang in there Clark…" Jonathan said, watching Clark open his eyes up in torment and blink away the dripping sweat that was soaking his face as he gazed into his father's eyes and looked past the fear and worry to see the love and concern that he held. Not less then a few seconds after he did however, he felt a strong wave of nausea overwhelmed him, and he didn't even have time to take in the pain that engulfed his body before obscurity took over him and he closed his eyes softly to allow the darkness wash over him.
Seeing this, Jonathan sighed heavily and felt the hand in his palm go limp, causing him to stand up just a little to sit down in the rocking chair right behind him and hold the hand in his tenderly. "Hang in there son." He whispered, listening to the silence that had once come and go enter the room again and haunt his ears to leave him in a painful contemplation of regret and guilt.
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Heavy wind knocked on the windows of the living room as pitch darkness flowed the area while the only sound besides the blustery weather outside was the light snoring that came from the two men in the area. With the teenager keeping his spot on the floor next to the couch, the father sat in the rocking chair with his hands placed on the armrest of the seat on each side tiredly while he slept deep in slumber. The only difference in the scene from what had been there at least two hours ago was the fact that one person wasn't there for once, and that was the red-haired woman who was in the dark kitchen asleep at the table with her head in her arms and tears drying on her face as she slumbered herself.
It was now early in the morning even though pure gloom still meandered around the exterior, the time around three forty-two as inside the Kent house no lights whatsoever were lit, the only brightness that did illuminate the room was the moon that shined outside. Whereas on the sofa was a suffering yet unconscious Clark, a light blue pajama shirt now covering his upper body, below him and by his feet was a half-awake Pete, who sighed heavily and rolled his head over the other way on his neck as he listened to the all-consuming tranquility fill his ears.
While the two parents in the house were fast asleep, he couldn't seem to even get a little bit of tiredness to overcome him. Ever since the fight that Jonathan and Martha had and his friend asked if he could know the truth to who had shot him, he couldn't seem to find sleep even if he was more exhausted then he ever remember being. All he could do was sit where he was and worry about what was going to happen next.
Sighing loudly, he straightened his position on the floor and rubbed his eyes wearily, placing his head on his knees afterwards and closing his eyes gently when just as he felt his mind let the thoughts that haunted him to leave, a sudden noise snapped him back to awareness and he looked around bemused for where the sound came from. When it entered his ears again, he took notice of the fact that it was a painful and anguished groan that obviously came from his friend who was above him on the brown leather sofa.
"Clark?" Pete whispered, getting up and crawling on his knees over to the top part of the couch where he saw through the darkness the boy rolling his head back and forth with heavy moans and profound breathes escaping his mouth.
"Clark, you awake?" He asked, his voice a little louder as he only got another laborious and rowdy whimper from his friend. Biting his lip, he spun around and got off his knees so he could take at least two steps forward to be in front of the older Kent that was fast asleep in the rocking chair and shake his shoulder as he tried not to panic when the groans started to become harsher and more labored.
"Mr. Kent! Mr. Kent, wake up!" Pete hollered as after a few shakes and yells the father snapped awake and looked at him confused. "Pete? What is it?" Jonathan inquired, closing his eyes tightly and rubbing them to arouse and stay awake as he squinted to make out the figure that was standing in front of him. Being as he was so tired, he didn't take notice of the cries that filled the room.
"I-It's Clark, he just suddenly woke up and-" Not even being able to finish his sentence, Pete watched Jonathan shoot up from the chair and bend down to the couch to be eye-level with his son, seeing through the shadows his face forming sweat and his groans echoing in the room.
"Clark, son?" Jonathan nearly spoke in a whisper, running his rough fingers through his son's hair as he watched him roll his head over to face him and crack his eyes open resignedly with a moan. Smiling reassuringly, the father stroked the boy's cheek gently as he whimpered some more.
"It's okay Clark, it's dad. I'm here…I'm here now, it's all right." Jonathan closed his own eyes softly when he said those words, remembering when he would have to say that to the boy when he was younger and would have nightmares about being kidnapped because of his secret. Every night until he didn't have them anymore both him and Martha would have to rush in and comfort him, then stay in the room until he fell asleep to show him things were okay. Never had he thought he'd be saying them again to tell him that he was going to be all right physically and not emotionally for once.
Gulping back the lump in his throat, Jonathan snapped back to reality where he listened to the teen on the sofa speak in almost a groan. "S-so….so…c-c-cold." Clark stammered, his lips quivering with both draftiness tears and as Jonathan looked behind him at the other boy who was still standing alarmed and distressed by the rocking chair.
"Pete, in the hall closet there should be a blue comforter and a few blankets, bring them out here for me." He told him, getting a simple nod from Pete before he jogged out of the living room and into the hallway. As he did, Jonathan clutched his teeth together tightly and stared off into the darkness as his son groaned heavily in pure agony. He couldn't even imagine the pain he was going through, and that killed him inside more then ever. Before he could even get deep into his thoughts however, a weak and tormented voice snapped his eyes over to the sofa to see the teen looking straight into his eyes even through the darkness with a moan.
"D-Dad…a-are…a-are you…s-still…a-angry…a-at m-me f-for…r-running aw-away?" Clark choked out, licking his dry lips a little after he did as Jonathan's eyes went somewhat wide and his jaw fell a few inches when he heard those words. There his son was, dying and in pain wondering if he was still upset with him for something he didn't even want to say. It shocked him to the point where he didn't even know if he was still breathing. Silence plunged between the two until Pete came walking back into the room carrying a large coverlet and a home made quilt, stopping when he saw the two however and wincing some when he could feel the uncomfortable tension that roamed in the place.
"Uh…M-Mr. Kent?" Pete called out, holding out the blankets some as Jonathan closed his eyes gently and got up from his bending spot to sigh heavily and walk past the teenager in misery.
"Watch over him Pete." He simply said, not even bothering to go on with the tears that were already crackling in his voice as the standing teen spun around and watched him walk over to the front door, dropping the blankets as he did.
"Mr. Kent, wait! Where are you going?" Pete called out louder then he wanted, knowing that the mother in the kitchen was still fast asleep as he waited for the older man to reply but never getting an answer to his question. Instead, he watched him grab the keys that were on the end table next to the entry door and listened to the font entrance open up and the screen door after that so they could close with a bang and leave him standing in both confusion and desolation.
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Outside, Jonathan jogged down the porch steps of the yellow house with water floating around in his eyes, the liquid burning as more formed and forcing the tears to rim around the corners when he refused to let them drop to his face. Stuffing his left hand deep inside his pocket, the man sighed heavily and bowed his head to the ground as he watched his feet move quickly and listened to the sound of keys jingling in his palms when he took them out of his jean pouches.
As he trotted over to the red truck that was parked in the driveway of the farm, he immediately threw his hands on the handle to the driver's seat door, however, hesitating on opening it up right away. It hit him that he knew he couldn't run away from his problems now. Clark needed him more then ever, doing the same thing he did three months ago wasn't going to make things better. Sighing loudly, he let the keys he had in his hands drop down to the dirt ground below him, hearing them hit the terrain with a clank as he let his forehead strike the window of the door with a bang.
He still felt guilty. The boy still felt guilty for something he didn't even do even as he laid on the sofa inside his living room slowly fading away to fatality. Never had Jonathan felt so afflicted in his whole life then that very moment as he stood still with his head resting on the windowpane to the truck that was in front of him. He could have changed everything if he just didn't let his feelings get the better of him.
Maybe if he had ended the conflict sooner then they could have gotten out of the barn and the boy would have never been shot. Maybe if he never said the words he said then his son wouldn't be worrying if he was still angry with him for something he didn't even mean to say. Maybe if he had just been a better father then he wouldn't be feeling the remorse he was feeling now. He could have done so many things to change what was going on right now, but he didn't. And he knew that if he could go back in time and amend everything that had happened in the past nineteen hours, he would.
Gulping back the lump that was in his throat, Jonathan sucked in his lips and looked up in the sky that was dark with almost black clouds that were gradually covering up the shinning moon that glimmered in the heavens above him. Turning around and leaning his back against the car door, Jonathan blew air through his cheeks and tilted his neck up to stare at the murky sky above him in misery.
All he wanted was for things to go back to normal. He didn't want to have to see his son who had never been hurt before in the way he was now crying out in pain. He wanted to see him smile the broad grin that would always cheer him up when he thought that things were never going to be as happy and cheerful they were before. He wanted Clark to get better, and it wasn't that much to ask in his case. A simple healing, or at the point they were at now, miracle was all he asked for. It wasn't that much to ask for… or was it?
Jonathan groaned mournfully at the thought, sighing loudly afterwards and closing his eyes gently as he ran his hands down his tired face and gazed up at the skies over top of him, hearing a loud rumble of thunder echo his ears as he did while he licked his lips and choked back more tears that threatened to fall out of his eyes.
"Why are you doing this to him? He did nothing to deserve this!" Jonathan shouted, balling his hands into tight fist as he saw a tremble of lighting fill his eyes and send shivers rushing down his spine while he stood still and tried to keep himself from shedding the water that he desired to discard.
Not less then thirty seconds after he said those words to no one though another boisterous roar of thunder roared into his hearing and he nearly flinched when rain rapidly poured down from the sky and hit the ground below him hard. He didn't run back into his house like anyone else would even if he didn't want to get saturated with water. Jonathan simply stayed motionless as his clothes, body and hair got soaked with the rain that teemed from the sky. And as it did, he let out a loud cry while closing his eyes tightly and feeling his own tears slide down his cheeks even though it was hardly noticeable with the other water that was dripping down his face.
"I'm sorry Clark…I'm so sorry." He nearly cried, running his fingers through his drenched dirty blonde hair while he looked up at the sky and watched a flicker of lighting flash across his eyes once more. It was then that he suddenly realized and understood why his son ran away in the first place three months ago. The pain of being redundant and the torture of the guilt that ate you inside being to overwhelming to handle, and if it wasn't for the fact that he knew the boy needed him he would have ran faster then the boy himself ran. But he didn't, and that's what caused him to stay where he was allowing the rain that fell from the sky to fall on him and hopefully wash away the sorrow that he felt.
To be Continued…