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Clark had no control over his body as it continued to betray him. No matter how he tried to relax himself, it didn't help. He knew he was breaking down, close to sobbing like a child, and it was the last thing he wanted. He needed his strength now, even if his physical strength had left him. It was the soft hand caressing his hair. It was too much. He turned sharply away, and she turned and left. He didn't know how he was supposed to stand this. How do you prepare yourself to be left alone, completely vulnerable and at the mercy of people who had no regard for your life? Dr. Allen returned with a blanket. It was soft fleece, and very warm. She noticed, the bright blue of the cloth caught the flecks of blue in his eyes. It was her turn to look away. She tucked the blanket around him, and left him lying there without another word.
Charlotte stood outside of the Kent farm. It wasn't hard to find. She knew Clark was from Smallville, and all she had to do was ask the first friendly face she saw when she arrived in town. The money Lionel Luthor gave her enabled her to buy a car, and a place to stay for awhile in the town she lied about being from, and it was just a few miles from Smallville. She tried hard to forget about Clark, and concentrate on a new life for herself–the one she traded for his. She wondered if he was still alive. It never made sense to her what they possibly could have wanted with him. He definitely wasn't a threat to anyone. Despite his imposing presence, he was never anything but gentle and kind with her–even the night before she left him, when he was obviously tormented. It was like he knew something terrible was about to happen to him. Why didn't she tell him everything and run with him? It was the one thought that assaulted her daily. She could have saved him, instead she delivered him to–god knows what. She almost felt like a murderer.
She stood just beyond the Kent property; across from the old wooden sign, proudly displaying the family name of Kent. It wasn't hard to imagine someone like Clark growing up in such a warm inviting yellow house. She had no idea what she expected to find when she came. It was her third visit, and the last couple of times, she'd seen a strong, yellow-haired man working the fields, who she guessed to be Clark's father. She assumed no one would pay attention to a young girl pausing by the edge of a field. But she was wrong.
For the past two days, Clark saw no doctors. The only people he did see were the silent men who brought him food three times a day. After the first morning, he'd awaken to find a pillow under his head, and his jeans and someone else's sweater on the floor beside him. His limbs were no longer bound, only a thin metal bracelet with a sliver of green embedded in it replaced them. It left him with a nagging nausea that didn't prevent him from devouring the first plate of food brought into him. He didn't even know what day it was. It amazed him how the mind adjusts to its surroundings. He couldn't sustain the level of sheer anguish any longer, so he started to lose himself in his thoughts. He had whole conversations in his head with his parents and friends, and tried to recall entire pages of books he loved; anything to make the hours seem shorter. He found himself wanting to see Dr. Allen. He didn't trust her anymore than the rest, but at the very least, she tried to cheat him like a person, even if she mostly petted him like a child. All she felt was pity for him; he realized that; but in his situation, it was equivalent to a warm embrace.
His two days of peace were interrupted in a flurry of motion as 3 doctors, including Dr. Allen came walking into his room. He had been sitting on the floor, trying to x-ray the walls to see if any part of the room wasn't encased in a layer of kryptonite. He was hoisted up by his arms and ordered to take his clothes off. Their tones were calm, and non-threatening, but it make Clark shiver. If they took his clothes, he'd be reduced to a lab experiment. He didn't move. By now they knew the drill. One of the doctors slipped a fairly large meteor rock out of its lead casing, and Clark slumped against the arms holding them. The placed him back on the table and began removing his clothes.
Clark tried to pretend Dr. Allen wasn;t in the room. He refused to look at her. His first instinct was to fight them, but he felt so weak and dizzy he knew it was pointless. He merely lied there while they stripped him, refusing to look at them, waiting to hear what the purpose of this vist was. He saw no sharp instruments, so he hoped it wasn't what he feared. It wasn't; They wanted to take a semen sample. They first argued at length as to whether an alien would even have semen. Clark tried his best not to listen-he had no desire to lose it again. He thought of anything; the farm, his friends, even the last movie he saw to try and drown out the incessant chatter of his torturers-as he'd come to think of them. They discussed how best to obtain a sample. A needle, tipped with kryptonite and injected into his scrotum, brought Clark much pain, but no satisfaction for them, since there was no fluid. So finally it was decided to obtain it the old fashioned way.
They gave Clark the option of doing it himself, but their suggestion was met with an icy glare, and Clark ripping one of his shackles free from the table. The doctors panicked immediately, and called for backup, and two of them held him down, while one opened the door, letting the room flood with that familiar green glow. Clark fell limp almost immediately. Dr. Allen was sent out of the room, at Clark's pleading-the one request they seemed ok with honoring, while another did the necessary act to get what they wanted. Afterwards, Clark was bathed, and released from his shackles. He immediately curled into a fetal position as someone placed the soft blue fleece blanket over him. He tried his best to pretend it was his own blanket, in his own bed on the farm, forcing his mind to go blank, and not think about where he was and what would happen to him now.