Clark doesn't go home.
Instead, he leaves the castle and walks slowly down the dusty highway until he can see the farmhouse in the distance. He calls it 'the farmhouse' now because he can't bear to think of it as home; He knows there was a time when he was happy and satisfied with his life, but that time is long dead and gone. Dried up and as shrivelled in his memory as a leaf at the end of autumn.
His eyes are on the darkening horizon. The sun has set, but the night's curling fingers have yet to reach the still-pale-lit strip of blue. Clark thinks that the setting sun is at once too accurate and too beautiful a metaphor for his life… Only he can no longer see the light at the edge of the world; can no longer see the rose coloured world that he lived in when all his cares were wrapped up in whether Lana Lang would notice him, or if he would miss the bus to school.
Now, legally absolved of his crimes, it does nothing to curb the overwhelming and crushing guilt. He thinks back. When did he last feel happy? It was with Smiley, he remembers:
"A day without corn pops is like a day without sunshine." She quotes the old commercial as they walk through the supermarket. She picks up a box and holds it in front of her face, shaking it around. "A day without sunshiiiiiiinnne…"
His serious façade cracks and he snatches the cereal from her hands, dropping it into the cart and laughing. They continue down the aisle.
"You know, I haven't done this in a really long time." She doesn't sound sad. Clark, behind his leather jacket and grim expression, marvels at her nonchalance. It's something they don't talk about much; the past is generally a taboo subject for both of them. But Smiley just comes right out and says it, as though it's not something she even really thinks about.
"Yeah?"
"I remember going shopping with my mom. She hated it, but I thought it was the best thing ever. I loved all the pretty colours and boxes. And the bakery, that was my favourite. I would beg my mom to buy me one of those multicoloured sprinkle doughnuts every time we went to the store. I didn't know anything about stretching forty dollars across two weeks of food then."
Clark doesn't know what to say to that. He just feels sad, because he doesn't detect any hint of bitterness or regret. Even though there have been hard times at the farm, he can't imagine her life. But she seems to remember her childhood in flashes of happiness-doughnuts and colours and childish naiveté.
This isn't the place to ask, but: "Why did you leave home?" The question hangs in the air for a long while. They get to the condiments aisle before Smiley replies.
"My mom was seeing this guy who used to beat her up a lot. One night he went for me after my mom had passed out… Anyway, the next day, I packed up my backpack and booked it." She picks up a jar of pickles. "These are my favourite."
"Okay." Clark swallows, agreeing with who knows what, and she puts the jar in the cart. Old men and women shuffle around them with carts half full of mouthwash and prune juice, and Clark watches them. Most of them are shopping alone, bent over their purchases, guarding their purses with fuzzy hawk-eyes. He watches them and wonders how many of them live alone. Gotham can be a cold and unforgiving city.
There is a bin full of discount CD's by the freezers and Smiley stops to rifle through them. She picks one up and holds it out. "Check it out. I saw this guy live in Chicago. It was so awesome! We were at the way back of the field, in the dancing section, and he came all the way back to us! It was cool. He was playing his guitar and singing; we couldn't have been more than five feet away from him." She peers at the CD. "They're selling it for $2.99? Man…" She stares at the case. "That was a really good night."
Clark thinks today might turn out to be really good, too.
He doesn't realise he's crying until a sharp breeze chills the tears running down his cheeks. He wipes his face with a brisk swipe of his sleeves and starts back on the long road to the farm.
000
Jonathan Kent sits him down at the table the next day and tells him that he and Martha have been talking. They want Clark to move to Metropolis. It'll be safer; away from the meteor rocks and too-curious sheriffs. He'll be able to go to a new school. Jon doesn't mention the fact that he can't bear for his son to witness his utter failure, but Clark hears it anyway. Has been hearing it and only it for the last three long, silent weeks.
His father explains that Martha will come to collect Clark in a week, and that he had better say his goodbyes.
Clark doesn't say anything, and returns to his fortress of solitude.
The next day, Lana comes.
She is everything he remembers; small and graceful and full of herself. It's not as charming as it used to be, but with Lana comes something that Clark never anticipated.
She announces her arrival with the soft snicker-snack of hoof beats against gravel. Clark hears her and knows her. Knows the soft grunt she makes when she dismounts, and the soft chatter to the mare as she ties the reins to a post.
"Clark?" She calls into the dark silence of the barn. He thinks for a moment about not answering, but can't help it. He stands and goes to the rail.
"Lana." She looks up at his slightly choked answer. She looks sad. "I didn't expect you to come see me."
"Well, I was hoping you would come see me, but then Chloe told me you were leaving again…" Clark doesn't know whether to go down the stairs, and the indecision hangs in the air for a moment, until Lana solves the dilemma by slowly climbing up to meet him.
"Lana, I'm sorry-" He starts to say when she's finally standing in front of him, looking up at him with her shining doe eyes.
"Don't." He stops, surprised. "I don't want your apologies. I don't want your reasons. I just need to say something." She takes a deep breath, obviously gathering her strength. Clark braces himself for the stinging tirade he's about to get. "I forgive you. For everything. I don't know what you were going through-and I've had a lot of time to think about it, believe me-and I thought you should know that I don't blame you for what happened here in Smallville or in Metropolis. I had a really long talk with Chloe after she'd been to see you, and she told me everything. And I just want you to know, your secret's safe with me."
Clark chokes. Fuck. His mind fills with a litany of curses and shocked accusations. How could Chloe have betrayed him like that?
"You know?" He finally croaks.
"Sure, Clark, it's not that big of a deal." She says easily. "You could have come to me, instead of hiding it all the time."
"It's not?" His voice is rising to new heights of squeakiness. "I could?"
"You know, not everyone in this little town is as intolerant as you must think. We even have a new club at school!"
Um… Clark's panic enters whole new realms, because clearly they can't be talking about the same thing, and the fact that he is totally clueless is almost worse than before. "Um…"
"I joined it, just to support some friends, of course, but we're really making a difference in raising awareness. We're called The Rainbow Club. I know it's not that original, but what can you do, right?" She takes a step forward, and Clark is rocked by a jolt of something he decidedly hasn't spent the past three months agonising over.
Lana continues to babble on, but Clark can no longer pay attention to her voice. His eyes slide of their own will to her neck, and he wonders why he didn't see it before. The shiny rock glitters unmercifully between her collarbones. He can see the curve of her breasts just peeking out of her low cut v-neck sweater.
"Where did you get that necklace?" He asks, and stares hungrily as her fingers reach up and rub the stone. It's wrapped in a twisting silver cage, and it reminds him a little of the old one.
"Oh, I found the stone a while ago. I figured since I lost my other one I'd just make a new one. It's not as special, but I like it. Why?" Lana takes another step forward, and Clark's heart skips a beat.
"Lana, I'm not feeling too well, I think you should go." The words come out haltingly, woodenly. They're more forced that not, and Clark is almost panting with the effort not to move.
"Clark, what's wrong?" The delicate girl steps forward and puts her hand on his arm in concern. A spike of want shoots through his body and Clark grabs hold of Lana by both arms. "Clark, You're kid of freaking me out here."
"Run away, Lana." He tells her, still holding tightly to her arms. She struggles against him, and his gaze never leaves the sparkle hanging from her throat.
"Tell me what's going on!" She cries, tears in her eyes, as the force of his grip increases. "Clark, stop!"
He shoves her away suddenly, too hard.
"Get out of here!" He cries, half turned away and hunched in on himself.
Cautiously, she takes a step back toward him. "If you'll only tell me what's wrong-" She begins.
"GO AWAY!"
She runs. He listens to her gallop away, and falls in a boneless heap on the couch, sobbing breathlessly and tearlessly.
That night he dreams of nothing but sparkling red jewels, and desire.
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Thanks to:
Lizzie: You'll have to wait and see… it could be a little while.
Celtic Cross: I haven't forgotten this story! I don't want to promise anything, but I've had a bit more time to write, so the next chapter should be out a little sooner than usual… Maybe even a little longer:) This story WILL be finished! No matter how long it takes! Even if nobody's reading it by the end! As for Lex and Smiley, they're both the two most important people in Clark's life right now… We'll just have to see what happens, won't we?
Heathen: When I read your review I burst out laughing-in a good way! You read my mind! I've been waiting to bring RedK back into the story, and Lana was the perfect scapegoat in this chapter, so go you! Cookies for heathen! I always enjoy long reviews. I love knowing what the reader is thinking; seeing if they're analyzing Clark the same way I am… Thank you for the lovely compliments!