Jonathan's walk was a little less steady than usual but he managed to make it back to the car without incident. Martha helped him into the passenger side of her car and closed the door after him, probably a little harder than necessary, and made her way to the driver's side.

"You're angry with me."

She wasn't certain if it was surprise or remorse she had noted in his words. Maybe it was both. "Yes," she replied honestly, putting the key in the ignition and starting the vehicle.

He remained silent for a beat before answering thoughtfully, "You've never been angry with me before."

"Well, there's a first time for everything."

She stole a glance in his direction and spied his reflexive flinch as he leaned to his right and rested his head against the car window.

Neither spoke again for the next twenty minutes. But Jonathan perked up when the car came to an unexpected stop.

"Where are we?"

"My parents' house."

He blinked and peered out of his window to confirm this announcement. If he was still feeling any significant effects from his late-night venture, that swiftly sobered him up. "What are we doing here?"

"I can't very well drive all the way to Smallville at this hour. You can sleep upstairs and we'll leave first thing in the morning before my parents wake up. I'll call your mom and let her know you're all right."

He blinked several more times and squinted back at her, still confused. "Are you crazy?"

"No, I'm just tired." Martha rested her hands on the steering wheel and let her head fall back against the seat's headrest. Then she opened the car door and looked at Jonathan who continued to stare back at her hoping this would all be some strange little joke and he was desperately awaiting the punch-line.

Still hesitant, he did as he was told and stepped out onto the driveway . Martha was already beside him, offering any assistance that might be necessary, but he was steady on his feet. They walked together in silence to the front door and Jonathan waited patiently as Martha worked the lock with her key.

"Need some help?"

She almost laughed but managed to only give him a quick, semi-amused look. He'd be lucky to find his nose at the moment, much less a keyhole in the dark. "That's okay. I've got it."

Just as Martha said the words, the knob turned obligingly. She took Jonathan's arm to pull him inside.

"I still don't think--" he began worriedly.

"If you were thinking at all, you wouldn't be in this mess."

His mouth was still open mid-sentence, and he promptly closed it.

Quietly, they wandered through the darkened space in front of them and started up the staircase, which Jonathan tripped on with a resounding thud. "Ssshhh! I don't want my father to wake up."

"Well, that would make two of us, Martha." Though she couldn't see his face, she could practically hear the roll of his eyes.

Jonathan took the handrail to help guide and steady himself and both made their way carefully up the stairs again. When they reached the upstairs rooms, Martha pulled him toward the door to their right and pushed it open. "I'll get you a blanket," she whispered as they walked in, closing the door quietly behind them.

"You mean my burial shroud?" came mordantly from behind her.

"It just might be," she retorted.

Again, he must have heard the impatience in her voice because anything he might have said in response was swiftly muted.

Martha disappeared into her closet, then reappeared shortly after with an armful of heavy blankets and a pillow then arranged them just so on the floor beside her bed. "There we are," she said, placing the pillow at the top, pleased with her work.

"Well done," he commented absently, almost mockingly, not looking in her direction. Now that he'd actually said more than a few words, Martha discovered alcohol had a way of stripping that Kent charm down to the core. How lovely.

"You just sit," she answered curtly and guided him to the edge of her bed. She made short work of his shoes and the buttons on his shirt. Although, when she got to the last, the shy, uncertain look on his face reminded her that this might not exactly be her Jonathan, but he was definitely still in there somewhere.

"Don't get too excited," she chided, still managing to sound cross with him. "I'm just making you more comfortable."

"I wasn't--I didn't--I was just--" Even the darkness couldn't hide the redness that colored his cheeks then.

"Just go to sleep, Jonathan."

Martha's tone was gentler this time. He took a deep breath and removed his shirt the rest of the way before settling down on the makeshift bed and pulling the covers over himself, making himself comfortable.

After a quick call to the Kent farm from downstairs, Martha returned to her room. She tiptoed into the bathroom a few feet a way from her bed and closed the door. When she opened it again, she wore a long t-shirt that reached all the way down to her knees. She walked quickly to her bed and slipped hurriedly under the covers.

"Don't worry. I didn't see anything," Jonathan sighed from the floor, sounding half asleep already.

Now it was Martha's turn to blush. She had thought the conversation would be over with that remark but not a minute later her ears were greeted with a soft, "Hey, Martha?"

"Yes, Jonathan."

"I could be more than just a farmer, you know." The edge had gone from his voice and he sounded again like the humbled young man she loved so dearly.

"I know that," she said, beginning to feel drowsy herself . Of course she knew and so did he. But sometimes a person just needs to hear the words. Kisses on childhood bruises never actually had any healing power, but they soothed the hurt just the same.

Both drifted off to sleep.

"I'm tired of always understanding! This is my chance to be something!"

Hiram looked up from the kitchen table at his seventeen-year-old son and frowned disapprovingly as he set his mug of coffee down. "Don't you raise your voice to me, young man. You might be bigger than me these days but don't think I won't still tan your hide. Maybe you're mister big shot around school, but this is still my house and till the day you pay the bills, I still have final say under this roof."

"Well, maybe I won't live here then," Jonathan grumbled, containing some of his earlier anger but only barely managing civility. "I won't be a nobody farmer."

Hiram sat back in his chair and eyed his son candidly. "So that's you think I am, is it? Just a nobody farmer?" he said, a small hint of hurt in his voice belying the unaffected facade he was trying to maintain.

Jonathan held his father's unwavering stare for a tense moment before striding angrily past him and heading out the font door to the barn. But before he got there, though, he stopped. Some part of him filled with dread, a panicked feeling that he should turn back. "Go back before it's too late" his head screamed. Suddenly terrified, he sprinted back into the house in search of his father. "Dad! Dad, I'm sorry!" he called frantically, feeling his own desperation grip around him like the hangman's noose. "Dad!"

But there was no one there, only an empty chair.

With an abrupt jerk, Jonathan found himself sitting up in the dark, breathing heavily.

"Are you all right?"

Martha's quiet worried, voice cut through the darkness and brought him back to the present.

"I'm fine," he breathed, his voice a little shaken.

At first, there was no response and then, "You were calling for your dad." It was uncertain and timid but concerned all at the same time.

When he didn't answer, Martha slid out of her bed and kneeled beside him on the floor, trying hard to see something of his expression in the dark. She knew just how fine he was, and she wasn't buying it this time. When he still didn't respond, she slid a hand down his arm to find his, clasped it in hers, then stood and gave it a small tug. He got his feet without objection.

Martha looked over her shoulder at him to gauge his reaction. The moonlight had cast a soft glow across his angled features, his sullen blue eyes turned a more pale blue that seemed to reflect the colorless existence he saw laid out before him. Silently, she slipped back into her bed, bringing him along. He hesitated at first, but when she wrapped her arms around him from behind and rested her cheek against the back of his shoulder, he relaxed into the solace she offered and closed his eyes to find sleep again.

TBC...