- - - - -

"Clark, calm down!"

"He's going after her, Chloe, I know it."

"You know, a juvenile crush isn't exactly defcon three."

"He's not stable. I'm telling you, Chloe, you can't let Lana out of your sight."

"Okay, okay," Chloe said quickly. "We'll order in tonight, stay up late chit-chatting. Will that make you feel better?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Chloe."

"You're welcome." She sat in silence for a long moment. "We really need to find this guy."

"Tell me about it."

"Where are you right now?"

"I'm heading home. Got anything yet?"

"Not yet. Did Mrs. Fordman tell you anything else?"

"Just that she hadn't heard from Curtis since the day before graduation. It was a week after he moved out."

He heard Chloe's computer clicking on the other end. "Okay, well so for now it's a dead end. It would really help if you could remember some more about what you saw."

"Yeah…well, I'll let you know if anything comes to me."

"Be safe, Clark."

"You too." He hung up, and stood, staring at his house. He had to go in. He had to avoid touching his parents at all costs. Maybe he could just say he was tired, and go to bed. They bought that, sometimes. After a long moment of indecision, he finally trudged up the driveway.

- - - - -

"Where have you been?" Martha came running out of the living room at the sound of the door shutting.

"Sorry," Clark mumbled, hanging his jacket up, and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I'm sort of tired…I was thinking I'd go lay down for a bit."

"Okay, sweetie. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." He was so tired of telling people he was okay. He wasn't. He was everything but okay. He went quietly upstairs, and swung the door to his room open to find Jonathan sitting on his bed.

"Dad, what's up?" He walked in hesitantly, setting his cell phone on the dresser top. Then he saw the picture that Jonathan was holding. He felt his face flush. "Oh you found that, huh?"

"Your mom was looking for it," Jonathan explained quietly, patting the bed next to him for his son to sit down. Clark went for the desk chair instead. "What's up, Clark?"

"What, I'm not allowed to look at our family pictures?" He immediately regretted his choice of words, and rubbed his forehead apologetically. "I just…I like that picture." He shrugged.

Jonathan let out a long sigh, and Clark braced himself for the "open up or you'll be alone" speech that he seemed to get from everyone. He was surprised by what Jonathan said instead. "When you were…just a year older than you are in this photo, you saw your first scary movie. Well, I mean, it was a cartoon, but it really scared the heck out of you. You know what scared you most?" Clark did know. He remembered this story vividly, but he chose not to say anything. "You hated that in this cartoon, the little boy gets lost in a magic world where he can't get home. You kept telling your mother and me, 'Where's his parents? Why don't they come get him?' That night, you couldn't sleep. You said you were scared that you could end up in a magic world and you'd never see us again."

Clark smiled in spite of himself. Jonathan returned the smile fondly, and continued, "So, your mother came up with an idea. She got our wedding photo, and told you to put it under your pillow. She said so long as you had it with you, we could never disappear while you were sleeping." He shrugged. "I guess it worked, because for years, that's how you got rid of your anxiety. I think- the last time I remember you doing it was the night before your first day at Smallville High."

Again, Clark smiled, speaking more to himself than Jonathan. "I was afraid everyone would know more than me…I didn't feel very smart, so Mom said to put one of my schoolbooks under my pillow, so I wouldn't have to worry about it anymore." He laughed. "I stuck them all under my pillow. Didn't sleep very well, but my first day went fine." He shook his head. "Man, that feels like centuries ago."

Jonathan watched him quietly, and smiled, looking down at his shoes. Then he handed the birthday photo to Clark. "If you need to talk to me, son, you can." And without another word, he stood up and left the room.

Clark held the photo gingerly, a mixture of emotions flooding his head. Then he went to his bed, slid the picture under his red pillow, and flopped down. When Martha came upstairs with his dinner, he was asleep.

- - - - -

"Bring him back! I'll…I'll kill you, give him or I'll…Give him…hey…Hey!" Clark's eyes leapt open. He was twisted up in his bedding, and fought to kick it off him. He felt sweaty and cold. Shakily, he sat up, and realized what it was that had awoken him. His cell phone was vibrating.

Dragging himself out of bed, he snatched for the glowing light on his dresser. Flipping it open without checking who it was, he said, "This is Clark."

"Hey, Clark. How was your day?"

Clark's neck prickled and his jaw tightened. "Curtis."

"Not good, huh? Yeah. It's the pits getting sick around everyone you care about. Especially your girlfriend."

"You come near her and I'll-"

"Oh geez, Clark, don't be so cliché. Besides, I told you I'd have an eye on you. You have no idea where to find me, do you?" Clark didn't answer. "I know, I said you could find me if you wanted. I bet that's still the case, if you actually wanted to find me. But you don't. Deep down, you know it's better this way. Cause…Clark, if you can't go near your friends, then they can't betray you."

Clark shook his head, astounded. "You really are crazy. Is that what you think? That your family and friends-"

"They're poisonous, Kent!" Curtis spat into the receiver. "They'll kill you, you just wait and see. They'll let you down, betray your trust, turn you in…they'll hate you, sooner or later. I'm just speeding up the process. The sooner you get away from them the better, trust me."

"All your delusions aside, Curtis, what makes you want to help me?"

"I don't," he sneered. "I just like seeing you struggle with my life." Clark's mouth opened to respond, but with a faint click call ended. He went to shut the phone, and saw he had a new text message from Lana. He clicked it.

"CLARK - Miss you still . See you at Talon tomorrow ? Noon ? - LANA"

He shut the phone, and fell back onto his bed. It was only then that his dream came to him again. Blinking hard in the darkness, trying to swallow the mixed emotions in his head, he rolled over and stuffed the cell phone under his pillow.

- - - - -

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Clark groaned sullenly, his dad's pickup trundling down the road at a steady pace. "I mean- I have to meet her, I can't let her down again."

"You know Clark," Chloe sighed into the other end of the phone, "you could just say you're not feeling well. It wouldn't even be lying, and then you wouldn't have to risk getting the both of you hurt."

"I just…things have been so messy with Lana and me, I want to try and straighten everything out."

"Yeah, and I understand that, but can't you wait till you're capable of physical contact again?"

Clark couldn't think of a way to respond, so he just said, "So I guess things went okay last night?"

"If you mean did Curtis Peter Pan his way into our apartment and abduct Lana, then I think I would have mentioned something by now."

He rolled his eyes. "This is serious, Chloe."

"Clark, you're tired. You're not feeling well- have you forgotten you've got Kryptonite in your system? For all we know, this could be killing you. We need to concentrate on finding Curtis. I'm sure Lana will be fine."

Clark shook his head. "I've got to set things straight with her."

Chloe just sighed again. "You need more rest than I thought. I'll talk to you later."

Clark pulled the truck into a parking spot outside the Talon's front door. He climbed out and went inside, taking only moments to spot Lana not far from the front counter. She waved, and he smiled, approaching her. "I got your message."

"It's nice to see you." Lana walked up to him, and everything else happened so fast, it was nothing but a blur in his mind later. She put her arms around his neck, and kissed him gently. Clark's head swam, his knees buckled and before either one of them understood what was happening, both had tumbled to the floor. Lana was sprawled on top of him, looking bewildered as he moaned in pain, and tried to gently pull her off.

"Clark, what's wrong!"

"Lana, you have to get off me…" Clark bit out, crawling out from under her. She stood up, looking shaken. He knelt for several moments, gasping for air.

"Clark…Clark, what's the matter? What's happening?"

"Nothing," he lied, but it sounded lame even to him. "I…shouldn't have come, but I wanted to see you."

Lana still looked confused. "Are you sick?"

"Not exactly-"

"Then what is it?"

"I'm just…" He pulled himself up by the counter, leaning against it for support. Why hadn't he listened to Chloe? Why?! She was exactly right, and now both of them had ended up getting hurt. Lana's face was easing into its most judgmental and suspicious stare. "Lana, I need you to trust-"

"Trust?" She shook her head. He'd picked the wrong word. "No, need me to believe your lies. Again. I try to kiss my boyfriend, he collapses for no reason. Sorry if that seems really distressing to me. And now, you want me to listen to whatever story you try to feed me. Well, I'm sorry Clark." She fixed him with a serious, piercing look, dark eyes on fire. "I've had it with your lies."

By the time Clark had recovered enough to stand straight, Lana was all ready going out the front door. He didn't see the point in following her.

- - - - -

Clark climbed out of the truck, and went to return the keys to his dad's coat pocket. He'd rather run to Metropolis, it was much easier. The incident with Lana had thrown him over the edge, and now he and Chloe needed to find Curtis. She'd been right all along; it was the number on priority.

He headed back to the kitchen, but only made it to the door when he heard Jonathan coming down the stairs.

"Clark, is that you?"

"Yeah, I was going to head out to Metropolis."

"Well hang on a minute. I need to talk to you."

"Dad," Clark sighed, letting go of the door handle. "I need to get a move on with this, I can't have Curtis out there anymore, it's driving me crazy!"

"Believe me, son, it worries me more than you know to have this kid on the loose." Jonathan came into the kitchen, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "But…I need to talk to you about yesterday."

Clark resisted the temptation to roll his eyes in exasperation. "The argument?"

"Yes, the argument." Jonathan didn't elaborate, forcing Clark to open the conversation.

"Look, Dad, I'm really sorry for the things I said. I didn't mean them-"

"Really?" Jonathan looked doubtful. "Clark, as much as I don't like having you yelling at me, I'm not going to ask you to take back something you needed to say. Is it true that you think I'm never around? I mean…do you really think I shouldn't be running for Senator?"

"No, it's not that, it's just…" He wanted to tell him so badly, but he couldn't. And that frustration boiled over inside him, along with all Curtis' jibes and threats, and his anger leapt into action. "You know what? Just- never mind. I'll see you."

"Clark!" Jonathan rose out of his chair. "Stop it, stop doing this. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!"

"Oh yeah?" He came to stand right in front of Clark, eyes penetrating. "You think your mother and I can't hear you yelling in your sleep? And that we'd never notice the birthday picture? Or the fact that you avoid coming home lately? You can't keep telling us you're okay, you're not okay."

"I'm fine!"

"No you're not!"

"Just leave me alone."

"Clark-" Jonathan grabbed Clark's forearm and didn't even have time to notice his son flinch in anticipation. Clark crumbled, crying out in agony, trying to pry his father's hand off his arm. "Clark! Clark, what is it?" Jonathan knelt beside him, holding his shoulders tightly.

"Dad-" Clark gasped, slumping forward in Jonathan's grip.

"Martha!" Jonathan shouted over his shoulder. "Martha!"

"Dad- let go…" Clark managed to whisper, trembling.

"What?"

"Let go…" He pulled at his father's hands again, and finally, Jonathan let go. Clark fell sideways, his head striking the tile floor hard.

"Clark-"

"I'm okay," he promised, panting.

"What happened?" Jonathan held his hands out in front of him as though surrendering.

"I…" Clark blinked hard, sitting up and rubbing his head. "I can't tell you. But look…it's going to go away, okay? We're gonna…Chloe and I, we'll-" A lump was forming in his throat that he couldn't seem to shake. He pushed himself to his feet. "I'll call you."

Martha came into the kitchen and found Jonathan kneeling in front of the open kitchen door, hands shaking. Her gaze went to the tiny pool of blood on the tile floor and she gasped. "Jonathan?"

"Martha…" His shoulders sank and he didn't turn around. "I can't help him…I don't know what to do."

- - - - -