- - - - -

Clark would never forget the look on Chloe's and Lana's faces when his dad supported him out Mrs. Fordman's front door. Lana paled in relief, and she looked like she was going to faint. Chloe began to cry and ran across the lawn, hesitating when she reached him.

"It's okay," Clark whispered, arm still around Jonathan's shoulder so he could stand. "Dad did it, Chloe. I guess the sliver technically killed me and got rid of all the-" he lowered his voice. "The Kryptonite in my system. But the adrenaline and my bizarre immune system kept me alive."

Chloe just blinked a few tears down her cheeks, not really listening. Then she lunged forward, arms around his middle and cried into his bloodstained shirt. He let go of Jonathan long enough to put his arms behind her back, squeezing her weakly. "I really, really missed you, Clark," she cried.

"I missed you too." And he smiled so brilliantly, Jonathan felt some of the adrenaline that had wracked his system for the past hour fade away. Then Clark's knees buckled, and Chloe and Jonathan both caught him.

"Easy there," Jonathan said, putting Clark's arm around his shoulders again and the two of them crossed the lawn to where Lana stood, now accompanied by Martha, who it turned out had driven Lana's car over.

The rest of the evening was a blur in Clark's mind. He remembered his mother holding him closely, too emotional to cry. Lana had kissed him and said she'd see him tomorrow, then gotten in her car and driven slowly away. Two squad cars showed up not long afterwards, called in by Mrs. Fordman, and soon Curtis (still spattered in "thoughtful sky" blue) was led outside in handcuffs. He didn't even look at Clark as he was led away, but Clark could feel his anger burning daggers out the back of his head. He felt a twinge of pity all the same.

That night, Clark lay in his bed staring at the ceiling for a long time, a lot of different things on his mind. His parents had sent him to bed early after he'd fallen asleep on the short drive home, and because he still couldn't stand up on his own. But he wasn't tired, he was exhausted. It was very different.

After three hours of lying with his eyes wide open, he forced himself to sit up, and supporting himself on every piece of furniture between him and the kitchen, went to make some coffee. To his surprise, the light was all ready on in the kitchen and he turned the corner to find Jonathan sitting at the table with a cup of coffee.

"Glad I'm not the only one," Clark said quietly, and Jonathan smiled without turning around.

"I made you some, if you'd like."

Clark squinted at him as though waiting for the punch line. "Thanks…" He sat down across from his dad with a hot mug in his hands. "You're not telling me to go back to sleep? I thought you and mom wanted me to go to bed early. Which, by the way, I haven't done since I was eleven."

"Yes we did. And you couldn't get to sleep early when you were eleven either." They both laughed lightly and took sips of coffee. A silence, not uncomfortable but expectant, hovered between them. Clark broke it.

"Dad…I guess I'm a little beyond apologizing for this now, but I…the argument this afternoon."

Jonathan shook his head. "Chloe explained everything about what Curtis did to you, Clark, it wasn't you. There's nothing to forgive."

"But the stuff I said…"

Jonathan leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtfully at his son. "Why did you call me?"

Clark shook his head. "What do you mean?"

"Chloe told me when Curtis stabbed you, the first thing you said to her was to call me."

"I just…" Clark looked up at him, and said, shrugging matter-of-factly, "I knew if anyone could save my life it was you."

All the guilt in Clark's heart disappeared at the look on his father's face.

They finished their coffee almost simultaneously and Jonathan helped Clark back up the stairs to his room. They didn't say anything else to each other for the rest of the evening. They didn't really need to.

- - - - -

Clark gazed through his telescope across the sky, not really looking. His thoughts were on Curtis, on the things he'd said about Clark. He hated to admit it, but to an extent, Curtis had been right; he did hide his bitterness. He'd done it this morning at breakfast, when Jonathan asked him how he'd slept. He'd said "Oh, fine". No, he still wasn't fine. As long as he kept having that dream, he wasn't fine.

"I heard you can see Mars really well tonight." Clark turned around and saw Lana standing at the top of the stairs. She smiled brightly. "Did you find it?"

Clark smiled back, and nodded, fiddling with the adjustments on his telescope. "It's good to see you, Lana."

"You too. How're you feeling?"

He shrugged, stepping past the telescope, hands in his pockets. "I've been better, but…you know, I've been a lot worse."

She laughed. "Yeah, I…think I know what you mean." She hesitated at the confusion on his face, then explained, "Clark, I have something I wanted to- something I need to say to you." He just nodded. "I…want to apologize for calling you a liar," she said, shrugging simply. "I shouldn't have. And I shouldn't distrust you so often either. I don't know why I do some of the things I do, Clark, but that doesn't make it right. I'm just…very sorry for all the times I haven't stuck up for you. I should have had more faith in you than that."

He could tell there were tears fighting their way to the surface, so he made his way swiftly to her and hugged her tightly. She didn't cry, but held him like she didn't want to let go. He smiled. "I guess sometimes we get so worried about the ones we care about, we end up pushing them away. Sort of to protect ourselves from getting hurt when something happens to them."

"I guess so," she whispered. "What do we do?"

"Well," Clark rested his chin on the crown of her head. He could smell her strawberry vanilla conditioner. "I guess all we can do is spend as much time with the people that mean the most to us." She nodded and after a moment, he held her at arm's length, smiling into her eyes. "So speaking of: Lana, would you come to my family's Christmas party with me?"

She grinned, rubbing his forearm. "C'mon, Clark, you know you don't have to ask."

"Yeah, I do." His smile widened. "Will you?"

She didn't even pause. "Of course I will." Then added, "Thanks, Clark."

- - - - -