Chapter 2 - The Strong One

The drive home was as silent as the drive out had been.

Martha waited to speak until they were pulling up to the farm. "Do you need some time alone, sweetheart?"

"Maybe," Lex said absently.

"I want you to take care of yourself. Whatever you need. But if you're going to, um, sit and stew and make things worse for yourself—"

"I'm fine. Really."

It was the least believable thing he could have said. The thing he used to say all the time, when he was new to their family. Part of her wondered if he might be saying it on purpose, just to get her to disbelieve him. If that were the case, he was succeeding. But the look on his face wasn't the look of someone who wanted company.

She wouldn't let him brood for more than a couple of days, but she wasn't going to pester if he didn't want anyone around. As soon as they were both in the house, she said, "I'll be downstairs if you want to talk."

He nodded, and he started up the stairs.

It occurred to her that Clark would probably be out in the loft, and she should check on him. "Or, um, maybe out in the barn," she said.

"You're on the property. I get it," Lex said in an annoyed tone without looking back at her.

She sighed. Up to this point, she'd always had a handle on exactly how much rudeness to put up with from her sons, and how much to let go. Now, she felt like she wasn't sure of anything. Maybe she was just tired. Lex hadn't been up with nightmares like she was expecting, at least not that he was letting on, but Clark had. And so had Jonathan, and for that matter, so had she. The little sleep she'd had was fitful and left her feeling more exhausted when she woke than when she laid down to sleep. Meanwhile, the farm chores just kept piling up; they'd fallen pretty far behind while they were imprisoned, and Jonathan was under strict orders from the doctor to take it easy for at least a month. They had little to no income, and the bills just kept coming.

Part of her wanted to ask Lex if he might be able to help them by hiring in a couple of part-time farm hands, just for a month or two. She knew he'd be happy to, that if he weren't so caught up in his agonizing pain, he probably would have offered. The money wouldn't mean anything to him. But she couldn't bring herself to ask. Even if it drove them to bankruptcy all over again, and he ended up saving them that way—which would be more expensive and far, far more embarrassing for all of them—she couldn't go to her broken son to request money, no matter how happy he would have been to give it.

Martha longed to head into her own bedroom and sleep the day away, but there was still work to be done. She made herself walk out to the barn and up the stairs to the loft.

It was so quiet in the barn, she dared to hope for a moment that Clark had fallen asleep. But she found him standing by the window, staring out at the horizon.

"Hey," she said quietly.

He looked back at her for a moment, then back out of the window.

She came to put a hand on his shoulder. She wanted to ask how he was doing, but she couldn't find the words. It felt like she'd asked the same question a hundred times in the last two weeks.

Clark spoke before she could. "How's Lex doing?"

She chose her words carefully. "The funeral was hard for him. He's taking some time to himself."

"He's barely talked to me, since . . ."

Martha rubbed his back in gentle circles. "He's got a lot to sort out in his own mind. Give him time."

"Is he mad at me?"

"What? No! Why would you think that?"

"Lionel only went after me because of my powers. If I didn't have them, you wouldn't have been in danger."

"Clark . . ." She struggled to find the words when he went into this state. He couldn't be reasoned with.

"This is all my fault," he said, so softly that she almost couldn't hear it.

"No, no," she said, and she reached out to take his chin in her hand, turning his face to look at her. "Baby, why would you say that?"

"If I hadn't come down in that meteor shower—"

"Then I'd still be wanting a child."

"You could have adopted another son. A human son."

"I adopted you. I chose you. And you're the one I want."

"But . . ."

"How many lives have you saved now?"

He shifted his weight. "I . . . I don't know . . ."

"You've saved mine a few times."

"You wouldn't have been in danger in the first place if it weren't for me or for Kryptonite."

"That hasn't always been true." She shifted her hand up to his head, stroking his hair. "What if Lex said it was his fault that our family was in danger, because he never should have come to Smallville?"

"That's different."

"How is it different?"

"It just is."

"Well, what would you tell Lex if he said he blamed himself for his father coming after us?"

Clark shrugged away from her touch. "You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?"

"I know, Mom. I'd tell Lex that it's not his fault, because Lionel sent him here, and he couldn't control it. He can't control anything anyone else does. But . . ."

"But what?"

"It wouldn't help him! He'd still feel guilty. He wouldn't be able to stop it. That's just . . . how it is."

Martha didn't think she had ever felt so helpless before in her entire life. It was as if everything she had ever feared about her family was coming true right in front of her eyes: that they would be damaged so badly that there would be nothing for her to do. Even if she found the perfect words to say, even if she could convince them, she couldn't take away the hurt.

She couldn't even take the edge off. She could do nothing.

And she was so, so tired. This was only the beginning. If she showed any weakness at all, it would all come apart—Jonathan would overexert himself and end up back in the hospital, which would tear apart the kids, which would make things even worse for herself, and it would be her fault . . .

That's when the tears began to flow, jerking sobs following.

"Mom?"

"I—I can't—it's too much," she sobbed, and she stepped into his arms, her head against his chest.

"Hey, it's okay." His arms tightened around her.

"I'm trying to keep up with the—the farm work, and I want to be there for you, a-and for your brother, and I have to look after your father because he–he sleeps through when he's supposed to take his med-medication, and the doctor says he can't skip it, but he keeps trying to go out and work, and he's going to have another-another heart attack, and I can't lose him, I can't—"

"Mom, try to breathe—"

"And your brother's not the same, he's broken and hurting and I can't stop it, and you're having nightmares every night, and I have to be the one there for you because I—I can't let your father get out of bed, he needs his rest, but every time I close my eyes I see you surrounded by meteor rock and your father having another heart attack and Lex with that sm-smoking gun, and Lionel in a pile of blood, except I'm still afraid of him . . ."

"He's gone, Mom."

"I know, I know he's gone, but I can't help but worry he's just the first, that someone else will come after us." Even as she spoke, a voice in her head screamed at her that this was all wrong, that she couldn't be putting this kind of weight on her youngest son, who had just endured psychological and physical torture. But neither could she put any weight on her older son, who had just killed his father and spoken at the funeral. Or on her husband, whose heart could give out any minute. She had to be the strong one for them.

But she was breaking. It was all coming apart at the seams, and she didn't know how to stop it.

"I can't—I can't do this . . ."

"Can't do what?"

"Be strong for you."

"Mom." He pulled back a little, looking at her in the eyes. His own eyes glistened. "Who said you had to?"

She melted back into his arms, and she could feel the tension draining from her shoulders. She wept, but with nothing like the desperation she just had. It was a release. He gripped her tighter, and she could feel the resolve settle in his limbs, the strength in his arms. The peace in his voice.

She smiled softly to herself. She hadn't been able to control it, but yet, somehow, it was exactly what Clark had needed her to do. She'd held it together for so long, trying to make her family stronger, but she hadn't allowed them to be strong. And by the time he let go of her, the shame had left his face.