Chapter Three:
The blackness, when it came lasted mere nanoseconds. The next thing that he remembered was that he was standing up. He also felt no pain. He spun around and saw himself lying on the floor, the front of his shirt soaked in blood. His mother knelt over him and she was sobbing his name. His face was white, almost grey, his eyes wide with what looked like shock. He watched his mother rip open his shirt and he frowned a little in distress when he saw the gaping hole there, veins of green emanating from the wound, which still pumped blood. Unconsciously he touched his chest and then turned around again. He blinked when he saw the blonde woman standing a couple of feet away from him, just observing him.
"What's going on? Am I dead?" he looked at himself over his shoulder and he had to admit, it was the weirdest thing ever to see himself like that.
"Not yet. But you soon will be. It's the kryptonite" He looked at her in shock.
"How do you know what it's called?" he demanded. The woman smiled mysteriously.
"You'd be surprised how much I know about you" Clark frowned.
"What's going on? Who the hell are you?" he demanded again. The woman regarded his face.
"In your darkest hours I hear your thoughts Clark. Of how you think that life would be so much easier if you had never arrived on Earth. Well I'm here to show you that"
"Who are you?" she didn't respond, instead she held out a hand.
"You need to come with me," she informed him calmly. Again he turned his head and looked at the scene in front of him.
"You need to hurry" the woman reminded him and he looked at her, still standing there, hand outstretched. Without a second thought, he took it.
In the blink of an eye and they were standing in the centre of a familiar kitchen. Clark turned around. Home, he was home. He looked at his companion
"This is home, what am I doing here?"
"This is the home of Jonathan Kent, or at least it was" she told him. He frowned at her in confusion.
"Was? This farm has been in the Kent family for three generations, I'm the fourth"
"No Clark, remember you don't exist. The Kent farm has been in the same family for three generations, until now. The bank is about to foreclose"
"What? That can't be possible!" Clark exclaimed. He turned his head as he heard slow heavy footsteps descend the staircase. It was his father. At least it looked like his father. His face was grey-white, his lips tinged blue. He moved like an old man, stopping at the bottom of the staircase to catch his breath, gasping air into tired lungs. His eyes were red-rimmed and tired looking and the clothes he wore were old, dirty, worn. Clark took a step back.
"It's alright, he can't see you" she told him and as if to prove a point, Jonathan shuffled past them both, never once noticing he had two unexpected guests in his kitchen.
"Where's my mom?" Clark demanded, looking frantically around the room, scared beyond belief at the sight of his father.
"She's in Metropolis Clark. She's a top lawyer at her father's firm" the woman told him. Clark gaped at her.
"A lawyer? Since when? She loves this farm, there'd be no way she'd leave it"
"The years of unexplained infertility took its toll Clark, the farm was failing, there was no money, she just couldn't take it anymore. Your parents divorced over ten years ago and Martha Kent went back to Metropolis"
"What's wrong with my dad?" he turned to see him sit at the kitchen table and bury his head in his hands. The blond hair was almost grey now. It shocked Clark to the core to see his father like this.
"Progressive heart disease. More than likely terminal" his companion informed him. Clark's eyes went wide at the revelation. She watched him stride over to where his father sat. He stood right in front of him.
"Dad!" he yelled. There was no response. Clark looked at her.
"He can't hear you Clark, remember, you don't exist" He didn't seem to hear her, he reached out to grab his shoulder, to shake him, to do something. Instead his hand passed right through him and he stared at his hand in white-faced shock. He looked at his companion again. She shrugged slightly.
"I did warn you," she murmured. She slowly walked around the bare kitchen, looking at everything with a studied carefulness.
"What happens to him?" Clark demanded. She stopped and looked at him.
"Why do you want to know?" she enquired.
"Just tell me!"
"He dies Clark. Alone. The hereditary heart complaint he suffers from finally claims him two weeks after Christmas. I believe his father passed the same way at the same age" Clark looked at Jonathan. Pain clenched in his chest that had nothing to do with the kryptonite bullet the thief had unloaded into his chest at the Talon…he looked up.