Chapter 3:
"Jonathan!" Martha called as she entered the house. She'd just spent the past half an hour searching the field for any trance of a meteor rock, yet came up with nothing. She still couldn't decide if it made her relieved or even more stressed that the elusive green rock wasn't involved in whatever was sickening Clark. At least if it was the rock they knew what they were up against, yet now they were fighting a new enemy completely unknown to them. "There was nothing out-" She never had a chance to finish her sentence.
"Martha! Get up here!" Jonathan screamed from upstairs, the panic in his voice evident.
Martha could practically feel her heart drop to her stomach. She'd never heard her husband sound more terrified in his entire life. Darting up the stairs two at a time, she called, "Jonathan? What's wrong!" She couldn't seem to get up the stairs fast enough, yet once she reached the bathroom doorway time stood still.
Her son, her baby, lied on the bathroom floor, as if all of his life had been sucked away from him, leaving only a hollow shell of what he once was. Against the off-white tiles it was evident how pale his body had become, exaggerating the dark circles that surrounded his closed eyes. No longer having the energy to stand, she fell to her knees and reached out towards her son, praying it was all a cruel dream.
"Clark! Wake up, please open your eyes..." Jonathan begged for the millionth time. He had no idea how long he was kneeling in front of his unconscious son, yet as every grueling second ticked away it seemed like a hour to the distressed man. The father placed his hand on Clark's face, rubbing his closed eye with his thumb. He gravely hung his head. "Please," Jonathan muttered as a last desperate plea.
"...Dad...?" a faint voice echoed throughout the small room.
"Clark!" Martha exclaimed as she smothered his face with kisses.
"What happened?" the boy mumbled, trying to look around his mother's face toward his dad. At his words, Martha immediately picked up her head, ready to hear Jonathan's explanation.
Running a hand through his hair, Jonathan started unevenly, "I don't know. When I got upstairs, you were unconscious." He looked away from his son's wide, frightened eyes. Whatever was happening to him it was clear now that it didn't involve kryptonite, and the thought of that terrified the family. "I've been trying to wake you up for the past..." Jonathan paused for a second to check his watch. "...3 minutes?" he muttered, raising his voice in question. That couldn't be right. It seem like at least an hour to the father.
"C'mon, Clark, let's get you to bed," Martha instructed softly, rubbing a hand on his shoulder.
Eyeing is parents, Clark started, "But what ab-"
Martha only wanted what was best for her son, yet this wasn't a common cold, and Clark wasn't the average child. She had to help the only way she knew how. "We'll worry about that once we get you in some clothes and in your bed," Martha stated calmly, yet the look on her face told Clark not to fight back.
It instantly occurred to Clark that he was sitting on the bathroom floor with only a towel covering him. "O...okay," he muttered, some color rising to his pale cheeks.
Clark was quickly clothed in his pajamas and tucked into bed. The whole time, Martha tried her hardest to seem calm and collected for her child, yet once she left his room the gates holding back her emotions finally broke. Eyeing her husband, who was still in the bathroom, she jogged across the hallway. "Jonathan, what are you doing just standing here? W-We have to do...something!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with concern.
"Look at this, Martha," Jonathan instructed as he gave her the towel rack Clark torn out of the wall.
Eyeing her husband skeptically, Martha grabbed the metal bar, wondering what was so important that it distracted Jonathan from their ill child. As she turned it around with her hand, she noticed one area of it was drastically concave from the rest. Looking at it closer, she could tell that it appeared like a hand crushed it. Gasping, she instantly realized what had Jonathan so dumbfound. "He still has his powers," she muttered behind her hand as she looked up at her husband with frightened eyes.
"Exactly," Jonathan sighed, placing a hand on his forehead. "It doesn't make sense. Shouldn't his system fight off any illness. Why is he so weak if he still has his superpowers?"
Martha bit her lip for a second. "Did he lose them when...?" She knew she didn't have to finish the sentence. He knew she was talking about the time almost three years ago when she and Clark became deathly sick from a toxin in the storm cellar. She noticed when she was released from the hospital Jonathan hated talking about it, and she knew why. She couldn't imagine the thought of loosing both her child and the person she loved to an illness. Just the thought of it terrified the both of them.
"Yeah, they were gone before we even knew he was sick," he answered with a distant look on his face.
"Oh," Martha whispered. A long second passed between the two fear-stricken parents. Unable to take the silence anymore, Martha whispered, "I'm gonna..." She swallowed, trying to contain her emotions. "I'm gonna go check on Clark." As she walked down the hallway, she could hear Jonathan place the metal rod on the ground and start to follow her. Placing her hand on the door for a second, she cautiously entered her son's room, not wanting to disturb him if he was sleeping. Even in the dark, the change in Clark was apparent. His pale cheeks blended in with his pillow, while his damp, dark hair was sprawled messily around his face. As Martha stepped closer, his eyes were slightly open, yet they appeared glassy and unfocused. "Clark?" she whispered as she placed a soft hand on his head. The heat under his skin was so intense it surprised the mother for a second, yet she never showed her fear to her son.
"Super-hearing still works," was Clark's only reply as he rolled his head away from his mother's hand.
Martha instantly whipped her head towards Jonathan, who was standing at the foot of Clark's bed. He must have heard their conversation. "I'm sorry, baby," Martha whispered, her voice slightly quivering, as she brushed a couple strands of hair out of his face.
Clark slightly sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. "Just...please...tell me what's going on," he whispered, never looking at either parents.
Jonathan slowly approached the other side of Clark's bed. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the hardest thing he ever had to tell his son. "We honestly don't know." Assuming as much, Clark lazily closed his eyes and nodded. "How do you feel, son?" Jonathan asked, kneeling down in front of Clark's face.
"Tired and cold," Clark breathed as he brought his blankets closer to himself.
Out of nowhere, the sharp ring of the phone filled the air. For a moment the two parents looked at each other. "I got it," Martha volunteered, already heading towards the door. Almost relieved to think about something else, even if it was only for a second, she jogged down the stairs and grabbed the cordless phone off the table. "Hello?"
"Hello, Mrs. Kent. Is Clark there?" a scratchy voice on the other end greeted.
"Lana, is that you?" Martha questioned, barely recognizing the voice.
There was a moment of hesitation. "Yeah," the Lana answered, sounding embarrassed. "Um...Can I talk to Clark?"
Biting her lip, Martha looked up stairs for a second, before deciding against it. Even though Lana was sure to make her son feel slightly better, Martha still wanted the conversation to be as short as possible. "No, I'm sorry. Can I take a message?"
There was a slight yawn on the other end. "Uh...yeah, I guess," Lana muttered, unsure of how to tell Martha about what she just discovered. "Can you tell Clark that I have mono, so he should probably watch out..." she explained, her hoarse voice barely strong enough to make out the words. "I'm really sorry."
The realization dawning on her, a quick gasp escaped Martha's mouth.
To Be Continued…
AN: I know the explaination to Clark's illness may seem weak, but don't worry I'll explain more in the next chapter. Oh, and I'm sorry to all the Clana fans out there, but I think that's going to be it for Lana's appearance in this story. I've never seemed to be able to write her character very well, and I really want to focus on Clark.