Thunder rolled from the sky down at the Kent farm as inside the house and in the dark and gloomy living room sat Jonathan, who had his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands tiredly while he swayed himself back and forth in the rocking chair he assembled in. With his eyes wide open but his body still trying to stay awake, the father sighed heavily as he listened to the pure silence that was around him, he and the boy on the sofa in front of him the only people in the room since upstairs were Pete and Martha, who he told to get some sleep.
He couldn't sleep though, no matter how tired he actually was. Every time he thought of slumber he would think of something going wrong with Clark and not being able to be there for him, then the reflection of him dying haunting his mind for minutes-hours even. Time seemed to be slowing down the more he wanted afternoon to come, the clock on the wall telling them now that it was only four in the early morning while outside the firmament was still pitch black and raining viciously.
A full twenty-hours Jonathan had gone without sleeping so far, utter fear, anxiety and guilt the only thing he had been feeling through those hours as he sighed heavily at the thought and started to feel tears of both sadness and so much fatigue fill his eyes. He wanted so badly to go back in time and change everything that had happened, the seconds that went by the more he wanted to do so. With all the time Clark was being unconscious, he had no choice but to think about that even if he knew he wasn't suppose to too.
All he had to do was stand by him for a few more minutes maybe and he wouldn't be on the couch in front of him dying in sheer pain. Maybe if he had done something other then cut him open to get the bullet out he wouldn't be crying out for him to stop hurting him in delusion. All the what ifs and all the chances he passed by were eating up his mind as he sat there, rocking himself back and forth, back and forth, listening to the chair squeak with each push while he stared in front of him almost hypnotically.
The room was murky, the only light that made you not seem like you were blind was the moon that shinned from the window behind the sofa, and the foggy clouds that roamed the sky allowing that to stand out through all the rain and lightening as the whole house was pitch bleak. The silence that roved by gave Jonathan shudders as he gulped back the burning lump in his throat and popped his lips sadly, listening to the echo of the noise fill the area as he leaned forward and looked through the obscurity at his sleeping son.
Even with the darkness the father could clearly see Clark's sick and ailing appearance, his face shinning with a thin layer of sweat and his lips dry and cracked, parted open so he could breathe through his mouth while every time his chest moved his face cringed in pure anguish. It didn't give Jonathan any more hope for him getting better. Instead of healing some like they wanted every minute of every hour, he just got worse. They honestly didn't know how much more ill the boy could get.
Sucking in his lips miserably, Jonathan rested his left hand on the blankets that covered the sofa, slowly moving it up to his son's face as he stroked his cheek softly, gulping once again as he did while his cold hands caressed the warm skin of the boy. He sniffed loudly as he did; tilting his head to the side forlornly while he tried to hold back the tears that desired to fall down his face. Never had he seen Clark so weakened before – so vulnerable. It was a heartrending sight that was just too much to take.
He hated running, and he knew he shouldn't be doing it, but seeing his son that way was too hard, and as quiet as he could the father got up from the rocking chair and stood up straight, able to take a few steps from the couch before he froze instantly when a feeble voice entered his hearing.
"Dad?" Slowly, he turned around and bit his tongue inside his mouth as he watched through the shadows the boy on the divan roll his head over to the left and groan in agony. Jonathan nodded his head and walked back over to the chair where he took a seat once again and gently grabbed the teen's hand from underneath the covers.
"I'm right here Clark." He told him, having to look down to the ground when he saw Clark crack his eyelids open somewhat and with teary eyes look into his. He could see just by his expression how much pain he was going through, and it killed him to see that when he thought about how he was the one who put him through this kind of torture.
Eventually though, Jonathan had no choice but to bring his sight up to look at the boy, and even if neither of them talked, they could simply sit there staring at each other, almost reading each other's minds. The quietness that fell between them was the only sound that they heard until it went too far, and the man knew he had to say something if he was even going to talk to the boy before he fell into another oblivion's sleep.
"How do you feel son?" Jonathan choked out, swallowing back the bulge that refused to leave his throat as Clark closed his heavy eyes and licked his parched lips while he tried to find his voice, taking a while to do so but soon enough being able to force himself to talk.
"It hurts…so much…dad." He whispered, his eyes squeezing tightly when a rush of painful fire shot through his stomach, and he bit his lip to the point where he thought it would crack and bleed as his father's stroking of his hand kept him from letting himself pass out.
"I know Clark, I know." Jonathan didn't even want to speak as he watched his son lay in agony, a loud moan falling out of his mouth as he sunk into the couch and his grip on the man's hand becoming loose. It reminded him that he only had a short time until his son was going to give up and go into sweet unconsciousness, which caused him to gulp again and lean forward some.
"Y-your mother and I are going to give you to the afternoon to heal son, a-and if your not better by then we're going to do something. You just hang in there until then, okay?" He softly told him, hearing him sniff with difficulty and open his eyes yet again as his face crumbled in tears and he tried to control his emotions that were going rowdy with the both physical and mental pain he was dealing with.
"I'm sorry…for being…such a burden…on you dad. I never…meant for you…and mom to lose…the farm." Those few, meager words made Jonathan freeze in the chair he sat in, his lungs cutting off air supply as he sat still-frozen and completely shaken up. He knew he didn't hear Clark just say that. He couldn't have just spoken that. Yet he did, and a strand of water slid down the father's face as he choked back a sob and shook his head despondently and in remorse.
"No Clark, no, please don't say that. I'm the one who's sorry. I-I should have never said those things to you, I swear I didn't mean them." Jonathan said a little too fast, his tears filling his voice as he gulped loudly and blinked back the liquid that was blocking his sight so he could see the teen look at him both confused and wretchedly.
"Why'd…you say them…then?" Clark asked weakly, his eyes closing once more when he lost the strength to keep them open while he listened to the man stammered at first until he found the right words to say.
"I-I don't know son. I was…I was just so upset that you ran away. It was hard without you-I took my anger out on something that you didn't even do." Jonathan informed him, lifting his hand up to his face as he cupped his fingers with his and put it to his mouth all while he felt another tear slide down his cheek.
"I'm so sorry Clark." He whispered as he closed his own eyes and bowed his head down to the ground. Jonathan didn't think that he would have to talk to the boy about all this so soon, and obviously he wasn't prepared, which made him just want to curl up in a ball and cry. It was so hard to not do so too. As the silence boomed in his ears, he waited for some kind of reply to be made from his son-any reply, even if it was a angry one as so many minutes went by they just sat and laid there in stillness. When his voice did speak up, Jonathan was both surprised and somewhat happy.
"You're…not mad…at me…then?" Clark stumbled with difficulty, blinking his eyes in bewilderment as the older Kent looked up at him and shook his head immediately.
"No. Not at all Clark. I didn't mean a thing I said that morning-none of it. I am so sorry." Jonathan then couldn't hold it in anymore, and he broke down crying as he pulled the boy on the sofa into a hug. Even through the pain, Clark sat up and wrapped his arms around his father's back while he leaned his head into his shoulder and strangled out his own sobs.
"I don't…w-want to d-die dad. I don't…w-want to l-leave you." Clark cried, tears falling down his eyes faster then his father as he wept loudly in the man's shirt while he felt fingers run through his brown hair and his back being rubbed tenderly.
"You won't Clark, I promise. I love you too much to let you die." Jonathan swallowed back saliva down his dry throat as he closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breathe to calm himself down. "I love you so much." His words weren't loud enough to be heard clearly, as he held Clark in a close embrace, feeling as if when he let go he wasn't going to be there anymore like when he was lying on the barn floor dead. He was scared to loose the embrace more then anything, thinking that when he drew away he would see a lifeless face looking at him. The boy soon pulled the hug away though, who sniffed loudly and looked into his father's eyes with hitched breaths.
"I-…I think…you d-deserve…t-t-t-o know s-s-something d-dad." Clark stuttered in pain, his teeth chattering together while Jonathan nodded his head and licked his lips while bringing up the blankets that were on the couch closer to the boy's body.
"Calm down first Clark, here, lay down." Gently, he lowered the boy back on the sofa somewhat, his back leaning against the armrest as in coldness, he clutched onto the covers and took deep breathes that made flames burn in his chest. It was a while until he could speak again without either breaking down in sobs or spluttering in anguish, but when he did, his words were clear enough for Jonathan's expression to soon go blank.
"D-dad…I-I did…know M-Morgan…Edge." Gulping loudly, the teen took a deep breath and sniffed back the tears in his eyes as he rolled his head over to the right cushion uncontrollably.
"I…was working…f-for him…in M-Metropolis. W-When…I d-didn't…bring h-him back…the b-blood I-I stole…he m-must've…gotten angry." Clark informed him, seeing by the way his father looked that he was shocked, but less mad than he thought he would be. More shocked then anything. Jonathan stood still and silent for a long time, trying to find the words to say, however, in his mind putting all the pieces together. Everything the man had said when they fought all made sense now. He understood every word that was uttered that morning with that simple confession. Everything all made sense now, even thing he didn't think he needed to know. His thoughts were thankfully interrupted with a voice though, and he looked at his son to see more tears welling up in his eyes.
"I-I'm sorry." The boy whispered as Jonathan shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, this time him having to be the one to find his voice.
"It's okay Clark…it's okay. Just concentrate on getting better, okay?" Jonathan soon said, licking his lips as he brushed away a strand of hair in front of the boy's eyes while he looked straight into his with seriousness and sorrow.
"Can…I ask…you something…dad?" Clark resignedly inquired, rolling his head back over so he could simply open his eyelids and be able to see his father's face that nodded his head for a mere answer.
"What…did you…do to…him?" It was then Jonathan felt his whole body start to go numb as he heard the boy ask that question. For the past twenty hours he had been trying to forget what he had done that morning-the morning he was going to regret for the rest of his life, and yet with those simple words all that trying meant nothing, because everything flashed back into his head. From the moment he gave the old man a punch to when he pulled the trigger on the gun repeated it's self over and over again in his mind, and he knew that he couldn't tell his own son what he had done. He couldn't. How was he suppose to tell someone who was dying that their father had actually killed someone?
Taking a deep breath, he sucked in his lips and sniffed heavily as he closed his eyes miserably. "Clark-" Jonathan tried to speak, but he was cut off instantly by a weak and feeble voice.
"Please…dad. Just tell…me." Clark struggled to keep talking, his voice giving out by the second as he sunk down into the couch and closed his own eyes in tiredness as few seconds later he heard his father's voice enter his ears.
"Something…something I will always regret for the rest of my life son." Jonathan groaned to himself as he put his head in his hands and rubbed his face, which was a good thing because he couldn't see the pure shock that the boy on the sofa had on his face while his eyes shot open in alarm.
"Dad…you didn't…" Clark shakily said. He didn't need the man to answer him though. When he brought up his head to show him his repentant and guilty expression he knew that what he was thinking was true, and he instantaneously shot up from the couch with a exclaim.
"Dad!" Clark shouted when immediately he felt a shout of pain escape his lips as he let his body fall back down on the divan with a groan, his hands grabbing his chest in complete agony while two hands gently grabbed his shoulders and helped him rest back down on the settee.
"Clark-Clark!" Jonathan slowly released the boy so he was fully lying down on his back on the couch, his eyes closed tightly in pain as he silently gasped for air and bit his lower lip to wait for the pain to fade, which in time it soon did. And as he felt himself relax on the sofa, the father stroked his warm forehead tenderly in wretchedness.
"It's nothing you need to worry about Clark; it's my problem, not yours." He told him, watching him roll his head over tiredly on the pillow as he wearily opened his eyes to look at him and part his cracked pink lips open with his face full of confusion.
"Why…did…you…kill him?" The father felt more tears well up in his eyes as he listened to Clark ask him that, his conscious screaming that he should have never told him in the first place and his mind wondering the same question at the same time. All day and night he had been asking himself why he had killed the man, so when he replied, he strived to make himself believe that, that was truly the reason why he had taken a foul man's life away.
"I was angry Clark. I thought you were gone." Jonathan's voice nearly stumbled in tears as he remembered seeing his son lying down on the barn floor inert, and the memory just making him shudder, causing him to snap back to reality and force himself not to think about what had happened that morning. As he did, the teen squinted his eyes in bewilderment at what the man had told him, mostly because it didn't make any sense.
"Was…I?" Clark whispered, gulping loudly afterwards as Jonathan licked his lips and took a deep breathe before sighing and nodding his head.
"When I checked…you didn't have a pulse." With those words being hard enough to say, Jonathan ended the sentence at that, knowing that honestly there was nothing else to tell him since after sobbing in his chest for what seemed like a life time the man who had shot him spoke up, which lead to what he was regretting that very second. It clearly wasn't enough for the boy though, since he was still very baffled.
"How did…I…" Taking a deep inhale and coughing a little when he did, Clark sat up some and swallowed saliva down his dry throat as he and his father looked straight into each other's eyes.
"How did I…come back to life…then dad?" Clark inquired. Like a ton of bricks, Jonathan froze. Never had he thought about that, and with the fact that he had over eighteen hours to reflect on everything that was going on before his son had awoken, it was a more shocking feeling when he heard those words. How did he come back to life? When he felt for the boy's pulse, he found none, which told him he was dead. So how did the teen suddenly start living again?
"I…I honestly don't know son." Jonathan told him, deep down inside knowing that he was actually lying. For some reason, he had a strange hunch to his question. But what he was coming up with was something he didn't even want to think about it, and without hesitation, he pushed it in the back of his mind and gazed over at his son with a sigh.
"Just rest Clark." Jonathan brushed away some more strands of hair from the boy's forehead as he nodded his head some and closed his eyes wearily. While he slowly fell back into slumber though, the father couldn't help but keep thinking about what he had asked, and what he was thinking. And no matter how hard he tried to not accept it, he knew the true reason to how Clark had suddenly come back to life. He just wished it wasn't true…
To be Continued…