Note: This is sort of a filler chapter. I have to get through several of these kind of chapters to set up for the next big event. Thanks for reading.

Lana's POV

I hate hospitals. The smell of medicine hanging in the air and the sight of orderlies wheeling in the injured is enough to drive anyone to make a beeline for the nearest exit. Fortunately, or unfortunately, which ever way you look at it, there's only one hospital in Smallville which means that the city council can pour their whole budget into one place and not have to spread the money around. Thus creating purple stained walls, the myriad of souvenirs and get well cards in the gift shop, and the luxurious waiting room that we are now sitting in.

Clark is sitting adjacent to me while his mother is on his left. Ever since we arrived here, he's been staring straight across the room in a daze. I'm not sure whether or not he wants me to reach out to him, so for the first half an hour of this dreadful wait, I focused my attention on a tearful, but brave Mrs. Kent.

Martha Kent is now speaking to one of the doctors and he motions her away from us, possibly trying to shield us from the news that he has brought. During this moment, I sneak a quick glance at Clark who is still in that trance-like state of his.

After a couple of minutes, Martha comes back.

"How is he?" I ask immediately.

She sighs, but to my relief she smiles. "The doctor says that he's doing okay, but he's not exactly out of the woods yet. Dr. O'Brien, that's Jonathon's cardiologist in Metropolis, is expected to fly in tomorrow morning to check on him and run a couple of tests."

I exhale and nod. I turn to Clark. "That's good news, right Clark?" I reach over and grab his hand. That and the sound of my voice seem to snap him out of his stupor.

"Y-yeah. Great news." He releases my hand abruptly and stands up, shocking both me and Martha. "I'm going to get some coffee."

Without waiting for an answer, he leaves the room in search of coffee.

"Lana, why don't you go follow him and see what's been bothering him this whole time?" Martha suggests quietly.

"Are you going to be okay, Mrs. Kent?" I ask, standing up.

"Yes, I'll be fine. I'll be in Jonathon's room if you need me."

There's a reassuring glint in her eyes and I nod and head toward the direction that Clark stalked off to. I already have a feeling about what's eating him up.

Clark's POV

I turn the corner and am met with the sight of a coffee machine. Standing in front of it, I dig in my pocket for my wallet, but only find lint.

"Great," I mutter, realizing that I've left my wallet at home. I sigh and sit on the floor next to the coffee machine, ignoring the stares that I am getting from the others in the cafeteria. I close my eyes and lean my head against the wall, feeling drained.

"You know, there are tables and chairs if you wanted to sit."

I keep my eyes closed, knowing who it is. "Did my mom send you?"

"She's worried about you, Clark, and so am I." I feel her sit next to me and take my hand into hers.

I open my eyes and turn my head to the right to get a good look at her. There are slight bags under her eyes from the events of the morning and our late night yesterday. She looks as exhausted as I feel, which is saying a lot.

After a while, she speaks again. "Clark, please don't shut me out. Not now. You always do this whenever something goes wrong…." She views me with a pained expression and I sigh.

"Lana…" I pause to gather my thoughts. "I'm sorry…I didn't realize…" Another pause and after a moment, she places her hand under my chin to turn my head her way.

"Clark, you shouldn't blame yourself for this. It wasn't your fault," Lana says firmly. She says it so convincingly that I might just begin to believe her.

"Lana, you don't know what happened down there... If you did, you wouldn't be so sure," I tell her quietly.

"Clark, I'll never believe that you're responsible for your father's condition and neither should you," she replies impatiently. "Clark, your mother needs you! Don't just sit around and feel sorry for yourself!"

I flinch when she raises her voice. She notices this and softens her voice. We ignore the stares that we are getting.

"Clark, you're not the only one suffering. I know that you feel guilty for this, but you have to believe me, it's not your fault—no matter what happened in that storm cellar. I love you and I know that you would never do anything to jeopardize your father's health intentionally. Your mother knows this, too."

Her words affect me deeply and I begin to wonder if she's right. I will always feel some responsibility for whatever goes wrong in my life and I know this. I guess that's just the kind of person I am. I can't do anything about this except accept that what's done is done and move on. As if reading my thoughts, Lana speaks up right on cue.

"Clark, it's okay to wonder about what you could have done differently, but you have to realize that you can't undo or fix the past. You can only go forward and try to learn from your mistakes. If you don't, you'll always have regrets," Lana expresses softly, squeezing my hand.

I take a breath and squeeze back, bringing her hand to my trembling lips. I place a kiss on it as a thank you. Suddenly, I have an urge to tell her about what happened down at the storm cellar.

When I am done, she hugs me tightly and I sob into her shoulder. This is the second time that I've cried like this in front of her. Nonetheless, she assures me that it doesn't make me look any weaker in her eyes. In fact, it's the opposite.

After my sobs have subsided, I pull back and wipe my tears away with the back of my hand. Lana helps by rubbing her thumbs tenderly around my eyes.

I take a breath and try to smile at her, but it comes out weary. She doesn't seem to mind though.

"You okay?" Lana asks with concern evident in her eyes.

"I am now. Thanks to you," I add. "God, I don't know what I would do without you."

She laughs. "I think that you would manage on your own, Clark. You're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. And I'm not just talking about physically."

I don't know exactly what to say to this, so I remain silent. Finally, she stands and attempts to pull me to my feet. I chuckle slightly and get myself up.

We start to head in the direction of the intensive care unit, but I suddenly remember why we ended up in the cafeteria in the first place. I tug on her arm gently. She turns around with curiosity evident in her striking eyes.

"Lana, you wouldn't have to have two dollars on you, would you?" I ask sheepishly.

"I think I do. Why?" She cocks her head at me in a cute manner that she can only pull off.

"Well, I kind of remembered why I ended up in here."

"And why's that?"

I jab my thumb in the direction of the coffee machine that started this whole thing. "Coffee."

She stares at me and starts to laugh. I can't help but join in.

We're in front of room 102 in the intensive care unit now. Through the blinds of the window, I can see Mom speaking to Dad quietly. Neither of them notices Lana and me standing near the door.

"Clark?"

"Yeah?"

Lana conveys with her eyes darting back and forth from me to the room that I should go in.

"I'll wait out here," Lana says softly.

As much as I want her to come in with me, I need some time alone with Dad first. I nod at her and hold eye contact with her for a few more seconds before taking a breath and entering the room.

Being so involved in their conversations, both of my parents look up in surprise. Mom's the first to react to my appearance, though.

"Clark, come here." She pats the spot next to her on Dad's bed, but I shake my head and opt for the chair adjacent to the bed instead.

I let Mom chat with Dad for a couple more minutes, wrapping up their conversation with a kiss and a hug. Finally, Mom hugs me and excuses herself from the room, joining Lana outside in the hallway.

Once she's gone, there's a tense silence in the room before Dad breaks it.

"Son, I know what you're thinking."

"You do?" I want to ask, but I remain silent.

"Clark, come here."

I scoot my chair closer and take his hand. I try to the block all the tubes and machines from my sight.

"Despite what you may think, this is not your fault. I've had a weak heart before all of this and I should've listened to you when you told me to calm down."

He's about to say more, but I hold up my hands. "Dad, before you continue, Lana already told me all of this. She told me that I shouldn't blame myself, too."

"And she's right. You know that, right?"

I don't answer right away. "Dad, a part of me is always going to blame myself for this and many other things, but I know now that I shouldn't linger on any of this." I pause and think back to Lana's words. "I have to move on and enjoy life."

Dad breaks into a smile and I follow suit. He squeezes my hand.

"I'm glad you listened to Lana. And I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Dad."

We continue talking for a few more minutes about his condition and how this will affect the farm. Eventually, Dad gets into his old habit of making a list of things still needed to be done around the farm. Despite being hooked up to several machines, he's still the same old Dad. After assuring him that I would do everything that needed to be done, we fall into a comfortable silence.

A question forms in my head during this period and my desire to ask it burns to the point where I might explode with anxiety if I do not.

"Dad, do you think the fertilizer had anything to do with…you know?"

My question catches him off guard. In spite of this, he gives me an answer.

"I honestly don't know, son. But listen to me: I want you to go back to that storm cellar and get rid of that stuff. Don't let anyone else near it. Not even your mother or Lana for that matter."

I nod and stand. "I'll do it now. I can run back to the farm and tell Lana and Mom that you need something from the house."

Dad nods and agrees with my plan. I'm about to exit the room, when he calls me back.

"Clark, be careful around that stuff. We don't know if it can affect you either, but you're our best bet."

I swallow and turn back, giving him a hug. "Get well soon, Dad."

Once I explain to Mom and Lana about Dad's need for some books to keep him entertained, I zip back to the house before either one of them protests my departure.

Down at the storm cellar again, I try to block the images and memories of my dad violently coughing and collapsing in my arms. I take a breath and close my eyes, a technique that I've seen played out in television numerous of times.

Deciding that I don't want to spend another minute in here than necessary, I haul the bags of contaminated fertilizer up the stairs and out in the open. Only under the bright blue Kansas skies am I then faced with a dilemma. Where the heck am I going to dispose of this health robbing fertilizer?

Lana's POV

The Kent house is seemingly sluggish and slow without its two primary caretakers around. Jonathon Kent is resting in the hospital, being carefully watched over by various tubes and machines. Martha, being the loving and caring wife that she is, is still at the hospital with her husband, opting to stay overnight with him. Clark would have stayed with them, too, but Martha's orders were clear. He was to return to the house and get some sleep for school tomorrow. As for me, I was offered the choice of returning to my apartment or staying at the farm with Clark. Naturally, I opted for the latter.

"Clark, maybe you should get some sleep," I call out to him, suppressing a yawn. It's a little past eleven at night and the two of us are camped out in the loft. It's been a hectic day; as if last night wasn't hectic either.

Despite my lack of sleep and our morning tensions earlier, I know that Clark needs me now. Once visiting hours had been provoked for the day, Clark and I returned to the farm, emotionally drained. In spite of our exhaustion, we still found the energy to sit—or in Clark's case, pace—around aimlessly and do absolutely nothing. Instead of getting starting on our precious hours of sleep before dawn, we headed for the loft and sat in silence. For awhile, all that could be heard was the sound of two persons' breathing in sync.

Finally, unable to keep a strong stature, Clark broke down and sobbed uncontrollably in my arms. Although a little taken a back at first, I did my best to rock him and soothe him, whispering that it was going to be okay even though I didn't exactly believe the words myself.

After crying for what seemed like an hour, he lifted his head off of my shoulder, stood up, and stalked off to the window. He hasn't budged from there since and I haven't tried to get him to move.

I stand up from the couch and walked over to the window. Clark shifts slightly to the right to make room for me. We stand in silence for a few more minutes before I ask, "Are you okay, Clark?"

He nods and I notice bags under his eyes. Taking his hand, I tug gently and begin to lead him down the stairs and out of the barn. Once inside the house, I shut and lock the doors and windows while Clark watches me do this with glassy eyes.

"C'mon." I grab his hand and drag him upstairs. I feel like his mother, ordering him to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. While Clark is washing up in the bathroom, I go over to the closet and pull out a spare pillow and blanket for the couch downstairs.

I wait for another five minutes to pass before knocking on the bathroom door. "Clark?"

He emerges, looking slightly better than before since all evidence of the day's events have been washed down the sink along with water. He steps out of my way once I indicate needing to use the bathroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him heading toward his room.

Once my nightly hygiene has been taken care of, I head to his room. Clark is sitting on his bed, looking like a lost puppy.

I swallow the lump growing in my throat and sit next to him. "I'm going to sleep on the couch in the living room. You can sleep here, okay?"

Clark is too tired to protest to my proposal. I try to read his thoughts, but I'm too drained and spent from the day's events. Hugging him and kissing him softly on the lips, I turn to leave.

"Lana, wait─"

I spin around. "What is it, Clark?"

"I don't want to be alone…"

He trails off, but I know what he means. I smile tenderly and cautiously lie down on his bed. He follows my example, lying next to me. I stroke his hair and try my best to comfort him once again as he starts to cry.

Clark's POV

After jotting down a quick note to Lana and placing it next to her sleeping body, I rush off to school. It's still pretty early and there are only a few cars parked in the student parking lot. I check my pocket once again and march through the double doors of Smallville High.

Up ahead, I see a bob of blond hair and a coffee in her hand.

"Chloe!" I call and I see her stop. I jog up to her.

"Hey, Clark! I heard about your dad, is he okay? If there's anything that I can do─" Chloe rambles.

I cut her off, "Chloe, I'm sort of in a rush right now. But thanks for your concern."

"Anytime."

I wait for her to open the door to The Torch and follow her inside. I check my watch, knowing that Lana could be waking up any minute now.

"Okay, so spill. Why the urgent call at six in the morning?"

I fidget in my jacket pocket and pull out a bag. "I need you to analyze this."

Intrigued, Chloe takes it from my hand and examines it. "What is this, Clark?"

I take a breath. "I don't know. That's why I need your help."