A/N: I know it took me forever to update and I feel like scum for it. Work and college are kicking my butt.However, over the next few days I will be posting a daily update, so I hope thatthat will make up for it.
Martha seemed more helpless than ever as she awoke in yet another cell, only this one seemed more like jail than her previous quarters. It had no bed, no window, and a lone light bulb to help her see where she was going. Her legs seemed like they didn't exist anymore as she finally got her entire conscious self back. She had a slight panic attack as she quickly felt around her feet to make sure she wasn't cut apart in her sleep. As soon as she discovered that this wasn't the case, she crawled over to a wall and pushed herself up with its help. Still limping on her sprained ankle, Martha hobbled toward the bars and looked around the dark room that housed a single guard.
"Where's Clark!" she cried to the man with an exhausted voice. "Where's Jonathan?"
The man, who had a small flannel shirt and ripped blue jeans got up from his rusty folding chair and came over to her. He had a small amount of stubble and his blondish-brown hair seemed to go in a million different directions. His tall stature reminded her of Jonathan, since he seemed to hover over a foot over her.
"You don't have to worry about them," the man said. Martha gasped as she now realized who this man was.
"Jonathan!" she cried. She felt stupid for not recognizing him at first. However, the lighting scheme could easily cover up her husband's handsome facial features. But, as Martha got a better look at him, she noticed that there was something horribly different about his eyes that could also have hidden him. They looked empty and confused, as if some part of him, the part that always glowed, was washed away. It was that feature that made Martha reluctant to get closer to him than she already was as he came right up to the bars.
"I wanted to be here when you woke up." Jonathan said. "How are you doing?"
Martha couldn't respond. She was too frightened by the tone in Jonathan's voice. There was now a sinister edge to the normally compassionate and rugged speech she knew so well. When she finally worked up the courage to speak, she could only ask why he wasn't in the cell with her.
"I don't need to be," Jonathan said. "I've finally been awakened."
"Awakened?" Martha said loudly. "To what!"
"To the fact that we have been in the dark all this time about the true nature of Clark."
Martha started to breathe hard and grip the bars tightly. It was the only thing she could do to keep from fainting right there at the reverend's words coming out of Jonathan's mouth. "How could you say that?" she said in a whisper.
"Think about it, Martha. He came in a meteor shower that killed dozens of people. He was sent here to take over the world. He murdered our child."
"Murdered our child! Jonathan, it was an accident. He ran away from home because he felt so guilty!"
"That's what he wants you to think."
"Jonathan, I can't believe you're saying this!"
"I can't believe you're so blind to it all. You're only saying this because Clark is our only child and if he goes, we have nobody. That was why he killed the child. If we had a baby, a normal baby, he knew we would not protect him in circumstances like this when he was finally discovered since we had another child to love after him. We would then see his true self since the "only child" curtain is now gone, then reject him like we should have done a long time ago. Without us, Clark's connection to the human race would be no more, but since we have to protect him now that he's our only hope for a family, he can get all of the leeway he wants."
Martha tried with all of her might to keep back the tears spurned by all of the cutting words Jonathan was delivering. "You're not making any sense," she said.
"Actually, I feel like I'm making more sense than ever." Jonathan said, in a manner that reminded Martha of Lex's evil side that tried to kill Clark so many months ago. That threat seemed like a picnic compared to this.
Martha tried to get her composure as she said, "Is this my husband talking, or Rev. Jim's controlled drone?"
A deep frown then crossed Jonathan's face as he banged on the bars with his hands in a manner that startled Martha to the ground. The woman grabbed her ankle as it twisted again during the fall and looked up at her departing husband. Tears rolled down her cheeks as the door to the guard's chamber slammed shut. Martha dropped down her entire body onto the floor as fear for her son welled up inside of her. Jonathan's words did not phase her at all. She had no doubt in her mind that Clark's true nature was right in front of them, and it wasn't just a mother's intuition or "only child syndrome", it was a pure and true nature that made Clark the best son a mother could have.
"It's alright Clark," she whispered, praying that in some supernatural way she could be heard by her son. "I'm here, I'm always here. Your father is, too, he's just not able to show it right now. But don't worry, you're never alone."
Clark woke up to what sounded like a whisper, but then was fully awakened by the circumstances surrounding him. His shirt was gone and his arms were tied around a long wooden pole that rested against his chest. The boy was on his knees, thankfully with his jeans still on, and bound by his ankles. His cheek was pressed up against the pole so hard, that Clark couldn't even turn his head the slightest bit to look at his surroundings. It was almost like he was watching a movie that was shot by a camera lying on the ground. Clark began to shake as he began to see people moving about with spiked instruments that reminded him of medieval weapons of torture. The room he was in seemed like every one he had been in since he was thrust into this horrible place; grey, confined, and prison-like.
Clark then heard the door that he was facing away from fly open and bang against the adjacent wall before closing again. Somebody very angry was obviously coming into the room, which didn't spell good news for Clark's nerves.
"She won't budge," said this newcomer angrily. "Are you sure that you tried every argument on her?"
"Yes," said the calm voice of Rev. Jim. "You heard me talking to both of you. I'm surprised that Martha's heart is so poisoned that she won't listen to my reasoning."
"I think Martha might be beyond help. I'm not sure what to do with her. I wish I had your wisdom" The voice said exasperated. All of a sudden, Clark recognized the voice. He knew by the wish for wisdom that Clark had heard before.
"Dad? What's going on?" Clark managed as he tried to turn his face toward the other direction. However, the ropes were still as tight as ever, and the surrounding group now knew that he was awake.
"It's about time," the reverend said in a snide manner. "I'd rather you be awake for this."
"For what?" Clark asked through his squished lips, almost afraid to hear Rev. Jim's answer.
The reverend walked around so that he was in Clark's frame of vision. Jonathan joined him, but he was holding pointed iron bar in his hands. Clark noticed that his father's face was bloodied and bruised, but also angry and frightening. He had never seen his father look at him with this much shame and contempt. However, his eyes contained empty looks. It reminded Clark of the looks he got from Chloe when she was under the control of the cheerleader love potion, or Lex when he was persuaded by Bob Rickman. No matter what had caused it this time, Clark had a feeling that his father was not going to play fake and rescue him.
"You make a very good innocent act, Clark," Rev. Jim said as he looked the boy in the eye. "However, no one is fooled by it any longer."
Clark started to breathe quickly as he watched a couple henchmen light a match over a cauldron of wood in the background. A fire was started and Clark had a strong feeling that it wasn't for cooking marshmallows. He asked, "What are you talking about?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Jonathan said. "You've been deceiving your mother and me long enough. You aren't human nor will you ever be, and yet you deceive the world in order for you to do your father's bidding. You feel that we are inferior to you. That is why you want to take us over and murder all the innocents that get in your way. I used to think that you were as innocent as the child you killed, but I was being deceived by my own weak emotions and need for a farmhand. Now those things have been cleared, and my vision couldn't be better."
"Dad. Wha…?" Clark couldn't speak. These words cut him more than any jagged piece of Kryptonite, any knife, any whip, any fiery meteorite ever could. Clark could feel the tears welling up in his eyes as his emotions ran haywire. All of the things that Aelora said before, all of the observations about his father's eyes, were forgotten. All Clark could think about was the horrid words coming from the man that saved him from being found by a scientist and cut apart. The man who raised him like he was normal. The man who knew that Clark was a freak of nature from the moment he found him, yet loved him nonetheless. This man taught Clark how to use heat vision. He was Clark's main motivation for being the person he was today. Now, that man was standing here, looking at his son like he truly was an alien, and it wasn't the first time. Jonathan had forced his son to run away with the grieved look in his eyes outside Martha Kent's hospital room. No matter how many times Jonathan apologized for his actions in the hospital two years ago, Clark knew that deep down those feelings were there. This speech began to reinforce this reasoning.
"Don't you see Clark?" Rev. Jim said. "You're found out. You have no allies anymore, only enemies. We are here to exact on you what you were planning to exact on us."
"Actually, it is more like the physical version of what you have exacted on us already, plus what you would exact on us." Jonathan interjected.
"Dad…you…can't...mean that." Clark said while trying to hold back his tears. All of the guilty feelings from the past were now surfacing again and all Clark wanted to do was sit in a room by himself and cry. His stomach wrenched as the memories of the death of his unborn sibling returned to him. All of the horror at what he had done and the wondering if all he could do was bring destruction upon this world.
"I meant every word," Jonathan said in an almost controlled monotone. He then turned toward the fire and stuck the tip of his iron bar into the flames.
Clark's heart raced as the reverend knelt on one knee and looked the boy in the eye. Anger pulsed through his veins as he thought through his guilt and growled, "What did you do to my dad? And where's my mom?"
"I did nothing to your father or mother." Rev. Jim said in a soothing voice.
"Liar!" Clark shouted as he felt something like the sole of a shoe hit his back. The laughing in the background made Clark realize that a few henchmen were trying to get a rise out of him. The beating and the laughing continued as Clark felt humiliated and hurt. At least he thought he felt that way, until the insults came.
"Hey Superboy, where's your power now?"
"C'mon! Defend yourself!"
"What kind of a guy kills his own sibling?"
"Babykiller! You don't deserve to live!"
"Come on men," Rev. Jim said from his kneeling position. "The boy will not be insulted by that. He killed his brother on purpose."
"No," Clark cried. "It was an accident! I swear. I never wanted to hurt that baby. Dad! Please believe me! I'd never hurt anybody! I don't want…""
"Enough!" Jonathan shouted to Clark as he turned around. The minions stopped their beating and backed away from the boy as they laughed at him more. What was left of Clark's pride was now a thing of the past as he sat there beaten and abandoned. He tried to hold onto the hope of his mother still being on his side, but as he looked at the light from the red-hot iron reflect in his father's eyes, he couldn't imagine that his mother had not developed a similar opinion. Clark was now officially alone. He had nobody who loved him to defend him now. Clark now had to face what he knew would be a horrible ordeal alone. His insides churned and his tear ducts began to empty as the realization dawned that he was going to die alone.
"Pathetic," the reverend spat as he got up from his knee. He then brushed some of the dirt on the floor toward Clark, thereby making him have a coughing attack. "Jonathan, have you ever seen anything this sad?"
"Not that I recall," Jonathan said as he looked into his son's pleading eyes. The reverend noticed that they were now locked into a stare toward each other. Before it lasted too long, Rev. Jim nudged Jonathan and took the iron from him.
"I'll take care of this, brother," he said.
"Why can't I?" Jonathan said as he rubbed his eyes.
"Some things are better left for the lifelong servants. I'll still let you watch, though. First I'm going to test it."
Rev. Jim then placed the iron to the center of Clark's shoulder blade. Clark let out a wail of pain as all of the men in the room smiled.
"Ahh, perfect." Rev. Jim laughed as have Jonathan an order with his finger. The man then ran behind Clark and grabbed him by the hair in order to pull his head back. "Now for the first step in punishing this thing for its grace upon this sacred earth of ours."
Clark was trembling and pleading as the iron got closer to his left eye. When it finally made contact, Clark screamed louder than he ever had before. He was jerking around like a drug addict having a withdrawals and the more he moved, the tighter Jonathan's hand gripped his hair. As the hot metal touched his right eye, Clark's fear escalated and his energy ran out. Right before he fainted from pure emotional and physical anguish, he realized that he was now to spend the rest of his miserable life in the dark and lonely world of a blind man.