Title: To Hold Back The Tears
Author: Elizbeth Goode
Disclaimer: I am in no way
affiliated with Smallville, etc. I make no
money from writing
fanfiction. In fact, I think I might be making negative
money
writing fanfiction. In short, Elizabeth Goode has no money, don't
sue
her.
Part III
Hours later, Jonathan and Martha lay in bed. They had managed to calm and comfort their son enough for him to get some sleep, but rest did not come easily to the worried parents. Martha rested her head comfortably against her husband's arm.
"I'm too worried to sleep, Jonathan. I don't like that he's had so many horrible things happen to him, and we have to just take his word for it that he's all right. What if exposure to the meteor rocks is for him like exposure to radiation is for us? What if he's been harmed in ways we have no way of detecting?"
Jonathan nodded his agreement. "We've both seen how his body reacted to one small piece of the stuff - I can't imagine the pain he must have been in."
"When Lex brought him here, he was barely coherent. Lex wanted to take him to a hospital, but Clark managed to insist upon coming home. Lex wasn't too hard to convince this time, considering his own role in the whole thing. He took it hard. I think he was really scared to see Clark like that." Tears glimmered in her eyes. "He was crying, Jonathan."
"Who, Lex?"
She shook her head. "No, Clark. He was crying
in front of Lex, and he was too upset to notice or care. He still had
some of the liquid Kryptonite in his hair. Lex had turned on the
sprinkler system in the lab, and that got most of it, but you know
how little it takes. After I convinced Lex that we'd be all right, I
got him upstairs - don't ask me how, he could hardly stand. He got in
the shower and turned it on as hot as it would go. I waited for a few
minutes, until he told me he'd gotten it all and that he would be all
right. He was in there for forty minutes. When he came out,
he
seemed all right. He apologized about a million times, and he begged
me not to tell you. I never agreed to that, I only told him that I
wouldn't say anything right away. He told me he didn't want to upset
you, and that he knew that if I brought it up, he wouldn't be able to
hold back the tears."
Jonathan sat up in bed. "He shouldn't have to hold them back! He was tortured, plain and simple. Luthor and his pet mad scientist have gone too far. They tortured a kid - my kid! I'm not letting this one go, Martha. I've got to do something!"
"And then, what? You'll be killed or
thrown in jail and Clark is left
without a father? He needs you,
Jon. Desperately, right now. He needs both of his parents to be
thinking clearly, to be there for him - "
Martha was interrupted by a cry from down the hall in Clark's room.
"No! No, you can't! You don't understand ... I'll die! No! Somebody help me! Help me! Mom! Dad, please help me ... " By the time his words faded to a sob, the Kents were at his bedside. In his sleep, Clark responded to his mother's gentle touch as she stroked the dark hair away from his forehead. His handsome face was still frozen in a grimace of pain, but he instinctively curled toward her. "Hurts ... it hurts, Mom."
Her heart breaking at her son's distress, Martha tried unsuccesssfully to wake him. Helplessly, she looked to her husband. "He won't wake up. What if that awful stuff he was in has done something to him?"
Jonathan reached out to shake his shoulder. "Clark! Clark, you need to wake up, son!"
His eyes remained closed, but he whimpered as if in pain. Slowly, too slowly for the concerned parents, he began to come around. One blue eye opened, then the other.
"What happened? Did I wake you?"
Martha brushed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Sweetheart, you were dreaming again. We heard you and came in to wake you up."
He rolled over, fumbling groggily for the alarm clock. Martha stopped him. "You're not going to school. Forget the clock."
Clark couldn't find it in him to protest. He was too exhausted to even contemplate dealing with Pete, Lana, and Chloe. He gave his mother a wobbly, grateful smile before once again drifting off to sleep.
The parents stayed, watching their son sleep for a long while. If his dreams threatened his rest again, they would be there.
