Spoilers: Tailsman.
Once again this takes place at the beginning of the 5th season in between Aqua and Exposed. It's a big deal to make the story make more sense.
Chapter 5:
Anxiety swimming in the pit of her stomach, Martha stiffly watched her son from the chair beside his bed, like a gargoyle protecting the church. The only noise that filled the room was the boy's wheezing breaths. It had been five hours since he had awoken, delirious from his fever, and the sun was disappearing behind the Kansas plains. Clark had only awoken once since then, but it was only briefly and his mutterings were so soft Martha could hardly understand them. Now here she was, sitting as still as stone, as she watched her only son slowly fight against the virus attacking his system. She never felt so helpless before in her life. Her son was fighting a potentially fatal battle, and all she could do was stand beside him and watch.
There was no kryptonite to throw away this time. There wasn't even a medication that could help or even lessen the pain for him. If he still had his powers, it meant that he was still immune to all types of earthly pills. He was supposed to be immune to earthly diseases also. Yet, fate had found a way around it, attacking and manipulating the one thing that made him immune to such diseases. Suddenly the door open, startling Martha out of her morbid thoughts.
"How is he?" Jonathan asked, unaware the shock he caused his wife.
Glancing back at her dormant son, Martha answered, "Hasn't changed." She looked at her husband, worry filling her eyes. "He hasn't moved in hours, Jonathan."
"I know..." Jonathan sighed as he handed his wife a cup of coffee. He looked down at his son, slightly frowning at the boy's flushed complexion and harsh breaths. He reached his hand out and placed it on Clark's forehead. "Still has a fever?" he asked Martha, but didn't need an answer, feeling the heat radiating off of the boy's skin.
Martha took a shaky sip of coffee, letting the warmth and caffeine drown her tired system. "It's not the fever I'm worried about..." She paused for a moment and looked at Jonathan's worried expression. "His breaths have been getting louder over the past hour. I worried something may be obstructing his breathing."
"Like what?" Jonathan quickly asked, glancing back at his sick son.
Grabbing the stack of papers she printed off about mononucleosis, she scanned through them to find one symptom that stuck out in her mind. "It says here that mono can cause 'swollen lymph nodes in the neck region'. Earlier when I looked down Clark's throat, it was so red and irritated I've never seen anything like it." She placed the papers back on the nightstand and looked up and her husband her eyes twinkling with tears. "Mono stays in the system for months. He won't be improving any time soon. If anything..."
"He'll get worse," Jonathan finished, saying the words his wife couldn't. "And if this disease is really amplified because of Clark's 'super-powered' cells..." The father immediately stopped, not letting the thought of his son's death enter his mind. Running a shaky hand through his hair, Jonathan leaned forwards before bolting up on his feet. "I'm going for a walk," he stated suddenly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Jonathan!" Martha called after him.
Never looking back, the man answered, "Don't worry I'll be back. I just need some time to think."
Martha watched in shocked silence as her husband walked out of the room and closed the door, abandoning her with their ill son. Overwhelmed with emotions, she turned her attention back towards her son, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall. She grabbed her son's clammy hand and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. "Don't worry about your father, Clark. He's just a bit overwhelmed at the moment. He so used to knowing the answer. This just caught him off guard," she explained more to herself than her unconscious son. Stroking his hand, she encouraged, "Just hold on. I'm sure he'll think of something." The words left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she smiled anyway. She knew she had to believe them, or else she would fall apart.
A long silence endured as the sun slowly crept behind the fields. Martha silently gazed out the window as the last sliver of sun disappeared, illuminating the room with darkness. Lost in her thoughts, she continued to rub her son's hand gently with her thumb. She never noticed as Clark's eyes flinched, as if trying to block out a bad thought. Suddenly, a slight gasp filled the room, much sharper than the boy's constant wheezes.
"Clark!" Martha exclaimed as jumped off the chair and kneeled by his head. Clark's eyes quickly searched the room as unsuccessfully he tried to calm his breaths. "Clark, honey, look at me," Martha whispered as she gently brushed his hair out of his eyes.
At the sound of the voice, Clark instantly looked beside him, his head to heavy to move. "M...mom?" he wheezed, his voice high with uncertainty.
Martha felt a chill run down her spine at the sight of Clark's terror filled eyes. Her calm voice masking her inner-worry, she asked, "Yeah, honey, it's me." She softly smiled as she continued to softly rub his head.
Relief swarming his face, Clark slightly sighed, before his breathed turned back into harsh wheezes. He glanced back at Martha, returning her smile. "Sorry," he muttered, knowing he caused his mother quite a scare.
"Honey, there's no need to be sorry," she answered as she slowly rose to her feet. "Did you have another nightmare?" she asked. His slight nod confirmed her assumptions. "Here, you should have something to drink," she stated as she grabbed her lukewarm coffee off the nightstand, hoping the warmth would relax his throat. She gently raised her son's head and helped him hold the cup as he slowly drank several gulps. Placing the cup down, the mother asked, "How are feeling...any better?"
Clark took a deep, shaky breath before answering, "Yeah." Martha instantly frowned, knowing her son was lying to her to try and make her feel better. She was about to call him on his bluff when the boy asked barely above a whispered, "Where's Dad?"
Not wanting to worry her son, she answered as calmly as possible, "He just went outside for a second. He'll be back soon." Seeing her son struggling for breath, Martha's heart instantly jumped with concern. "Clark, calm down. Don't talk anymore." Clark instantly nodded, agreeing full-heartedly with his mother. Grabbing her son's hand, Martha coaxed, "Don't worry. It will all be over soon. You just need to hand on." Finally gaining control over his breathing, Clark looked at his mom and gently squeezed her hand. Hearing the harsh wheezes slowly quiet, Martha softly smiled, even though her heart was still pounding. The virus was growing, and she couldn't do anything to save her son.
Jonathan spent the past hour walking around the farm, trying to clear his mind. There was something he could do, he knew it. Yet, with every thought that came into his mind, he quickly discarded it, knowing it would never work. One particular memory kept intruding his thoughts. Two years ago when he found Clark bleeding to death on the kitchen floor kept jumping into his mind. He was sure he had lost his son then. Yet, by the power of Jor-El, he was able to save his son. If only Jor-El's power was still in him. Frustrated with dead ends, Jonathan turned back towards the house.
Back in the chair, Martha watched over her son, tears growing in her eyes. The noise of footsteps drifted through the silent house. Sniffing, she rubbed her eyes, preparing herself for Jonathan's return. At the sound of the door opening, she turned towards him, and opened her mouth, but her words refused to come.
"How is he?" Jonathan asked as he approached the bed.
"I...I..." Martha started, but was unable to finish, her fear and anxiety finally taking a hold of her.
Jonathan immediately rushed to his wife's side as she fell apart. Wrapping his arms around her, he softly asked, "Martha, what's wrong?" trying his best to mask his own masking his own worry.
"C-Clark," Martha managed to get out between her tears. Jonathan instantly glanced at his son, who appeared to be asleep except for the wheezes rattling his chest. Composing herself, Martha grabbed her husband's arms to get his attention. "Jonathan, he's slipping away. I can feel it. Earlier, he almost stopped breathing."
Cupping her face with his hand, Jonathan replied, "Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll figure something out."
"Mom?" a soft rasp sounded throughout the room.
"Clark!" Martha exclaimed as she jumped to his bedside. "How are you feeling?"
"Ffff..." He paused for a moment, trying to inhale enough to speak. "Fff...iiin..."
Martha instantly cut him off. "Shhh...nevermind. Just focus on breathing. Okay, honey?" Clark slightly nodded, his lips slightly parted. His sharp, shallow wheezes filled the room. Martha blinked back tears at the sight of her son struggling for breath. "Just calm down...like last time. Remember?" Clark nodded again, but this time much more sharply.
"Clark," Jonathan stated, shocked at his son's decline since he left. He rushed to the other side of the bed. "Just hang on, son."
"Ddda-" Clark started but was instantly cut off as his irritated neck glands swell a bit more.
Startled by the sudden silence that filled the room, Jonathan's heart dropped to his stomach. Grabbing his son's hand, Jonathan yelled, "Clark! Breathe!" Clark looked at his father, terror in his eyes as he struggled for air.
Tears freely falling down her face, Martha gently massaged Clark's shoulder. "C'mon, baby. Breathe," she whispered, even though her mind was screaming it. Clark glanced at his mother for a brief moment before his eyes rolled in the back of his head. "Jonathan! Do something!"
The father instantly lept into action doing chest compressions on his son. A several endless seconds, he started performing CPR on his son, while Martha felt a weak pulse under his wrist. It seemed like an eternity before the sound of their son's gasps filled the air once more.
"Clark?" Martha said as she brushed his bangs out of his face.
"Mmmm..." he started as his eyes peaked through his heavy lids.
A sigh of relief escaping her, Martha felt a tear of joy slide down her cheek. "Shhhh...don't try to talk anymore." Clark merely nodded, before closing his eyes and focusing on breathing.
Taking a step back from his son, Jonathan looked at his wife, determination set in his face. "That was way too close." Without warning, he sat on the edge of the bed and took Clark in his arms, trying to help the boy stand.
"Jonathan! What on earth are you doing!" Martha yelled, appalled.
"I'm taking him to the caves" was the man's only answer as he lifted the boy to his feet.
"What?" his wife questioned, fearing the man's sanity. Martha ran to Jonathan's side.
Already moving towards the door, Jonathan answered, "It's the only way."
Moving Clark down the stairs was a lot simpler than Jonathan had originally thought. "Jonathan..." she sighed, after hearing his plan as he moved the boy down the steps. "I don't want you doing anything stupid," she stated as she opened the door for him and Clark.
"Don't worry, before you know it will be home," Jonathan answered as he moved the semiconscious boy towards the truck.
"What are you talking about? I'm coming with you." Martha ran in front of the two and sat in the back seat of the truck, leaving the door open for them.
Jonathan took one look at her face and knew there was no way to talk her out of it. He slid Clark into the passenger side and roared the car into motion. "Okay, but I want you to stand outside of the cave. Seeing her mouth open in protest in the rearview mirror, he continued, "If something were to happen inside the cave, I need you outside as backup." The excuse seemed to satisfy the woman for the time being. The headlights their only source of light, the truck sped down the road, one single destination in mind.
Less than a half an hour later, Jonathan dragged an unconscious Clark into the secret chamber of the caves and placed him on top of the rock slate. "Jor-El!" the father screamed at the top of his lungs. Clark had stopped breathing again while they were maneuvering him out of the truck. "Jor-El! I don't have much time! You son's life is in danger!" Jonathan continued to yell throughout the pitch black caves, hoping the mention of Clark would gain the heartless man's attention.
A rush of wind blew around the cave "I know of my son's condition," the ominious voice echoed through out the chamber as a beam of light shone on Jonathan.
"If you know, then why don't you do something about it!" Jonathan screamed, his heart beating a mile per minute. Clark stopped breathing over a minute ago, and he didn't even know of his son's pulse was still there.
"I am not a god" was the man's only answer.
"You healed him once, you can heal him again!" Jonathan demanded, referring to the time when Jeremiah stabbed his son.
"I had an outlet for my powers. You were my vessel."
Becoming increasingly frustrated with the supposed father's lack of concern, Jonathan answered, "Then make me your vessel again!"
Jonathan could almost hear the being scoff at his comment. "You are not the man you once were. You do not have the energy to hold me and heal your son."
The farmer glared up at the beam up light. "Try me," he muttered under his breath.
"This will inevitably cause your death," the voice warned.
"It's worth it." The last word barely left Jonathan's mouth when he felt a great power surge through him. Instantly placing his hands on his son, a bright light filled the room. As soon as the light left, a large gasp echoed throughout the caves. Blinking the spots out of his eyes, Jonathan rushed to his son's side. "Clark? How do you feel?" Jonathan asked for what seemed to be the millionth time that day.
Sitting up on the large rock, Clark placed a hand over his heart. "Better..." he breathed, for the first time in a while he meant it. Glancing around the dark room, he looked back at his father's silhouette. "What happened?"
"We'll talk about it later," the man answered, patting his son on the back. His son was back. He was okay. Feeling his own uneven heartbeat, he knew his life was a small price to pay.
The End.
AN:Yay! There'll be an epilogue.