Clark looked from one parent to the other waiting for an answer. Neither of them knew what to say, though. Jonathan sighed and opened his mouth to speak when Martha stepped forward and said, "They'll be by later. We sent them home so they could get some rest."
Clark nodded his head as his eyes started to get heavy.
Martha smiled and grabbed his hand. "We'll be back later." She kissed his head, murmuring, "Get some rest." Again he nodded, and within seconds was fast asleep.
Jonathan, Martha, and Doctor Haslam quietly walked back to the office and once more sat down on opposite sides of the desk. Jonathan put his head in his hands, sighing.
"Mr. and Mrs. Kent, you do know that you need to tell him, don't you?" Doctor Haslam asked.
Martha nodded and said, "I know… it's just… how would you react to someone telling you that you're dead to the world?"
The doctor sighed. "I probably wouldn't take it all that well, but you still need to tell him."
Martha grimaced. "But how?"
The doctor shrugged, "I think that's something you're going to have to figure out for yourselves. Talk it over and come up with a gentle way to tell him this news."
Jonathan sat up and asked, "Is there really any gentle way to break this to him? For that matter, is there really any way to tell anyone something like this?"
She shook her head, frustrated. "I guess there really isn't at all."
Chloe stared blankly at the word processor that was being displayed by her computer. The cursor blinking as if to mock the fact that there was nothing written where there should be pages of words.
Earlier that day, Principal Reynolds had come and asked if she would be willing to write a memorial for her fallen friend.
Of course she had said yes, but now as she sat alone in the Torch, she wondered what the hell she'd gotten into. Sure, Clark had been her best friend, but he had always kept so much of his life hidden that, as she thought about what to write, Chloe realized that she didn't really know him as well as she thought.
Quiet knocking on the doorframe drew Chloe out of her reverie. Pete stood in front of the door with a gloomy look on his face. "Hey," he said, walking in. He nodded toward the computer. "What you working on?"
Chloe sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "I'm just trying to figure out what to write about… about…" Her voice faltered at the thought of Clark. "I'm sorry, Pete. I just miss him so much." Pete came over and gathered her in his arms.
"Shhh. It's okay; I miss him too," Pete comforted.
Chloe nodded into his chest, whispering, "I know, Pete. It's just… every time I sit down to write something, nothing comes." She choked back a sob, but the tears came anyway. "For god sakes, Pete, he was my best friend, and I don't know a damn thing about him!" She cried harder. "What am I going to do?"
Pete looked down at her, and tried to smile. "Hey, I'll tell you what. I'll help you with whatever you need, okay?"
She sniffed and nodded. "Thanks, Pete."
He smiled and said, "Hey what are friends for?"
She laughed a little at Pete's comment as they sat down. What they didn't know though, was that someone was watching from the shadows. With a smirk on his face.
Derek gave a satisfied smile as he set the newspaper down on the desk in front of him. He had found refuge in the old foundry after he had gone from the Kents' house. Now as he sat here he had one thing going through his mind, 'I've done it! I've killed Clark Kent!'
Now that he had Clark out of the way, he could go home and try to get back to his normal life. There was just one problem with his plan. 'Well, two actually,' he thought. One was that he'd have to explain himself to his parents when he got home. The second was the fact that all of Clark's friends knew who killed their friend, and he wouldn't be able to show his face at school without someone calling the cops.
I need a plan to silence them from saying anything, assuming that they haven't already, he thought to himself. He sat down, sighing again. There has to be a way to get around them. Then a thought came to him. Derek walked over to the desk and picked up the paper once again. He laughed for joy as he read what it said…
Police haven't confirmed who the killer is. An interview with the witnesses of the crime was conducted. None of them were willing to divulge much information, given the shock they were in. Officials hope to find the identity of this person soon…
He stopped reading and looked up with another smile. So no one had spilled that he was the one who had killed Kent. 'That's good,' he thought. 'Now to go home and act like this is all new news.' He knew his parents were good friends of the Kents. They were probably torn up about the whole incident, but he didn't care.
Clark was out of his life at last. "There's just one more stop to make though," he said to himself, and with that he walked out of the foundry, and in the direction of the school.
Lex walked into his office, throwing down his jacket and tie. He still wondered what was going on. Clark couldn't be dead, there was just no way, this had to be a bad dream. Any minute now I'll wake up, and everything will be alright, he had thought to himself over and over again.
But that time had never come. Every time he tried to snap himself out of this "dream" nothing happened. It killed him inside to think that someone so pure, so happy was now gone to the world.
Sitting down at his desk, he rubbed his eyes. There had to be better things to think about than the fact that his friend was dead. He pulled up the screen on his laptop and opened his e-mail, only to find that there was something blinking in the inbox. At first he thought nothing of it, but as he looked at the sender's name, his eyes went wide.
TBC…