A/N: First I just have to apologise for taking so damn long when I specifically said the updates would be coming sooner. This chapter was ready to be posted about two days after the previous one, and then suddenly my computer stopped working. I haven't been ably to get access to anything on my hard drive until now, when I was able to connect it to another computer in the house. I will also be posting another chapter sometime either later today or tomorrow.

Thank you so much for your patience and everything!

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When Clark drives up the dusty farm road nothing is as he remembered it. There is a for sale sign swinging in the yard and the normally bright yellow house paint looks faded and dull. The windows are shuttered, and the driveway is immaculate.

Clark wants to leave, run back to Gotham or somewhere else-somewhere safe. Mostly he wants to go back to Smiley, curl up around her and hold her and have her whisper reassurances to him that he so desperately wants to believe. But he can't.

He steels himself. Tries to banish the thought that maybe they don't want him anymore, that maybe now that he's gone they've realized how much trouble he really is and how much better off they are without him. Maybe they'll turn him away. And that's the scariest thought of all.

'Sorry boy.' Jonathan will say, tipping his cowboy hat and scuffing the ground with the toe of his boot. 'You were just gone too long. We don't really have much use for you anymore.' And behind him will be Martha, arms crossed, slightly sad look on her face, as if it's something necessary, but she doesn't like to get her hands dirty.

NO. Clark pushes that scenario from his head and forces him to start toward the house. His parents are better than that, even if he's not.

He climbs the stairs of the porch and positions himself in front of the door. He thinks about just walking in, but it might be too much of an invasion. Brushes off all the lint he already knows isn't there. Knocks three times. Waits.

Clark waits. He waits for what seems like hours but at most is only thirty seconds and then he hears a creak and a shuffle. He wonders, who will come to the door? Will it be mom or dad? Will they yell at him, hug him, cry, smile? He imagines their faces; a mix of shock and joy. They'll take him into their arms and laugh and mom will cry and dad will go out into the yard and tear up the for sale sign because now that they've got Clark back they can go on. They don't have to give up.

The hardest part will be telling them the whole story. He'll have to tell them about the crimes he's committed, Smiley and the whole damn trip. But they'll forgive him. He knows that for sure.

The door finally opens to reveal Jonathan, looking about fifteen years older than he did when Clark left, and he can't help it. His face crumples. "Dad." Is all he can get out before he falls into his fathers open, shocked arms. He sobs into the familiar flannel, and his dad can't hold their combined weight, so they sink to the floor. It isn't until his tears finally dry that Clark realises Jonathan has been crying too.

"Clark." His father croaks. "You're home-oh god." Jonathan isn't letting go and for once Clark is grateful. He needs his parents and never realised how much until now, when he finally has them back.

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"Where's mom?" Clark doesn't ask as Jonathan leads them into the kitchen. There are dirty dishes in the sink and a metropolis newspaper spread out across the kitchen table. It's open to the classifieds, and Clark has to look away. He wants to ask, but he's too afraid of the answer he might get. The relief that rushed into his body when he first saw his father begins to trickle away, leaving this cold, biting dread. He has the feeling there might be no turning back, the giving up might have happened too long ago for him to set it right.

What's going on? Jonathan must see the questions in Clark's eyes, because he sighs, defeated.

I'd better call your mother." He says. "She'll want to see you-know you're alright." Clark nods, watching his father pick up the phone. He squints at a number taped to the fridge. Above it, printed in big block letters: MARTHA. Jonathan reads it carefully, eyes returning to the paper for each digit dialled, and once again Clark wants to ask him just what has happened since he's been gone. Why is the house up for sale?

"Hello, it's Jonathan." He says, tersely. "I need to speak to Martha." There is a pause. "It's about our son!" He's clearly upset, and Clark wants to do something, anything to relieve the tension behind his father's eyes and the pain in his father's voice. The remaining conversation is brief, and chilled. Jonathan barely says anything more than "He's back, Martha." Before he hangs up the phone.

"What did she say?" Clark asks timidly.

"She'll be here in about two and a half hours." His father replies before coughing violently.

Clark runs to the sink and pulls a mug out of the drying rack, filling it with cold water and returning to Jonathan's side. He hands it over and Jonathan drains the whole thing before regaining control.

"Why is mom in Metropolis?" Clark tries to make his voice neutral, but he's sure his father senses the edge of desperation, because he looks away-at the floor, at his mug, anywhere but at his son.

"Your mother moved out about three months ago. She's living with your grandma and grandpa now." His voice is resigned, like he's finally getting used to her being gone, but it's new to Clark and he's not sure how to take it.

It's barely comprehensible, because his whole plan was about returning to his mother and father to live on the farm and rejoin that strong, happy family unit they once were.

Oh god. Were. When he left…

"Jesus." He gasps out with a harsh, panting breath. "Everything I touch!" And like than, he's gone.

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Of course, he's not leaving again. He can't imagine what that would be like on his parents. He can see the strain it's already put on them. His mother arrived about ten minutes ago, rolling up to the house in a Porsche, and if that weren't enough, glowing. She's wearing the kind of clothes he's only seen in his brief brushes with Lex's circle of friends, and her skin is smooth and made up beautifully. He almost doesn't recognise her.

He even falters on his way to hug her, but she ignores it and runs into his arms with a choked cry.

"Oh Clark. We thought we'd lost you." She says tearfully, but he still can't get over the way she looks.

"Mom-" he stutters, "what's going on?"

"Oh sweetheart." She murmurs, brushing a manicured hand across his cheek. "Let's go inside and we'll talk about it."

And Clark can do nothing but comply, following her into the house and hoping against all hope that everything will be okay again someday.

END ARC 1

Arc 2 part 1 coming soon!

Katie- I love you! When you asked me to update it broke my heart because I couldn't even write more without the stuff I had already written buried in my hard drive! Your reviews always brighten my day. So thank you! And don't worry about Smiley, she'll be back!

Lizzie- Unfortunately for me (because I love writing redclark) Clark is pretty much finished with his red K experiences, BUT Smiley will definitely be returning in a little while.