A/N- First off I would like to thank everyone who reviewed. I'm writing this for myself, but it feels great to hear that all of you are enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it. This chapter contains some very vague sexual references; nothing too racy here, but I feel that it is only fair to warn you that that will change. Eventually I will be including foul language, violence, and sex. It may not be here for some time, but it is coming, so fair warning. Also, I apologize for the bit of a wait. I meant to have this up by friday afternoon, but alas, life conspired against me. Also I went out with my best friend and I kind of spent the last two days in a blurry haze. To be honest I have no idea how i got home. So if the tail end of this chapter is a bit wonky, forgive me, Ill fix it to the best of my ability. Thnak you again for all the wonderful reviews. Keep them coming and enjoy the update.
PS- If anyone would be interested in beta'ing for me, please drop me a line. I would really love the input.
I own nothing, no lawsuits please.
Jonathan Kent had been rising before the sun for as long as he could remember. That didn't make it any easier. He rolled out of bed, his joints popping, and grimaced at the ache he was feeling all over. It was on mornings like this that he felt the growing signs of his own aging. Only a few short years ago he would have practically leapt up, ready to start his day. Now it was all he could do to stumble into a hot shower, blearily rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. As was pulling on his shirt he inhaled deeply, touched but not at all surprised to smell the scent of coffee percolating downstairs. He flashed a smile at his wife, now stretched out in their bed, her back to him. She always woke up while he was in the shower, stumbling downstairs to start the coffee brewing for him before falling back into bed to get another hour or two of sleep. No matter how many times he had told her she didn't have to, he always dressed to that distinctive smell.
He hurried down the stairs, desperate for that first sip of his morning wake up call. Steam rose into his face and he breathed deeply, now fully awake for the first time. He would never admit it to anyone, but he wasn't sure he would be able to make it through the day without his morning cup of coffee. Even the idea of facing an entire day's worth of farm work without his cup gave him shivers. Mug in hand, he made his way to the door, slid on his mud caked work boots, and stepped into the chilly morning air, the first signs of light just beginning to peek over the horizon.
He was headed for his truck, ready to drive out to the south fields to begin the day's work, when he heard soft noises coming from the open barn door. He frowned, and changed directions. The fields could always wait five minutes.
He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but the sight of Clark mucking out a stall before the sun was even in the sky wasn't at the top of his list by any means. Stunned, he stood for a moment in the doorway before he spoke, shocked, "Son, what in the blazes are you doing out here at this hour?"
Clark whirled around, surprised. He had been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't even noticed his father's entrance until he spoke. "Hey dad. I was just trying to get a head start on my chores, that's all." The look in his father's eyes told him that he wasn't going to get off that easily.
"Son with your abilities you finish your chores in the blink of an eye, and you've never once needed a head start on them. Now I don't know what's going on, but you have school in a few hours so you should head into the house and go back to sleep while you can." Clark squirmed guiltily. Realization dawned on the elder Kent, followed quickly by anger. "Son, please tell me that you actually went to sleep last night and you didn't sit around all night doing chores." The silence was deafening. Jonathan sighed, his hand rising to clench his brow. "Clark, what were you thinking? You know that's not how we do things in this house." His voice had been growing till he was practically shouting and Clark hung his head, shifting his feet in the dirt floor.
"I'm really sorry dad. I just couldn't sleep." He threw his shovel down, slowly sinking onto a nearby bale of hay. Jonathan sighed, regretting his earlier tone. He knew that there had to be an explanation for Clark pulling an all-nighter; he wasn't the type to do it for fun. And from the look on his face, whatever was bothering him was big. He just wished that he had time to talk to him about it.
"Forget it son. I'm sorry that I yelled. Just get inside for right now, and we'll talk about it later. Right now I have to get out to that south field or I'll never finish it all by the end of the day-" Cark cut him off.
"It's already done." Jonathan gaped at him, astonished. Clark merely looked sheepish. "When I couldn't fall asleep, I decided I might as well work, so I went and did your work for the day. I figured you could use the day off. Then I started my chores, and I was just finishing them up when you came in." Jonathan still wasn't sure what to say, but now he was certain that whatever was bothering Clark had to be pretty serious. He hadn't seen his son this worked up since he had told him of his origins. At least now he had time to deal with it now, thanks to Clark. He grabbed an old stool that sat nearby, seating himself in front of his son and sipping his coffee. Clark would open up when he was ready; he always did.
They sat for a few minutes in a comfortable silence, Clark absently shifting dirt around with the toe of his show while his father patiently for him to speak. Finally Clark broke the silence. "Dad, how did you know you loved mom?" Jonathan blinked, surprised at the question. Was this what had kept his son awake all night long? He took his time in answering, not quite sure what it was his son was really looking for with this line of questioning.
"Well son, I won't tell you that it happened all at once." He smiled wistfully at the memories flashing through his mind. "Don't get me wrong, when I first saw her, the first thing that flashed trough my mind was that she was the most beautiful girl I had ever met. But we were from two completely different worlds; I was fresh off of the farm and she was a city girl, born and bred. It seemed like an impossible thing to overcome, and even though I had asked her out, I didn't think we would even make it past the first date.
But as that night went on, we both realized that we had a lot more in common than we first thought. We were fast friends." He paused and Clark met his eyes. "And then we were more. Then one night she convinced me to take her to the theater in Metropolis." He crinkled his nose in disgust. "God I hated it." Clark laughed and Jonathan's eyes began to glaze over at his next memory. "After we left the theater, we were walking along the street and she kept joking with me, telling me how handsome I looked in a suit. Then we stopped and she smiled and she thanked me for taking her even though I hated it. And when she looked into my eyes and said thank you, I realized that she didn't even need to; I would have sat through a million boring plays if it meant putting that smile on her face. That's when I knew that I loved her." Clark looked a little desperate now.
"So that's how you knew," he asked, incredulous, "because you were willing to go to a play with her?"
"Of course not son, I said that was when, not how." Jonathan sighed and considered how best to explain himself; he understood that for some reason his answer to this question would mean a lot to his son. "I knew that I was in love with your mother when I realized how much she completed me. She complemented me and was a positive influence on the parts of me that I hadn't even thought needed to be influenced. She helped curb my temper and when I did lose it, she was always there to calm me down and she never judged me for it. She was my rock and she made me want to be a better person for her, but I always knew that even when I couldn't that she would never judge me for it." He smiled humorously. "Does that answer your question?" Clark didn't answer, staring at the dirt floor, lost in his own thoughts. Jonathan decided that it was time for Clark to answer a few questions of his own. "Do you want to fill me in on what going on here son?"
"It's nothing dad," Clark mumbled, "just something Lex said." His father waited for him to meet his gaze and then motioned for him to continue. "We started talking about Lana, and he kind of pointed out that I had only really even started talking to her this year, and he kind of said that I couldn't be in love with her because I kept her up on this pedestal and never got to know the real her. He said love wasn't like that and I couldn't truly love someone without knowing who they really are." Clark had spoken quickly to the point of almost being incoherent, but Jonathan felt like he had gotten the gist of the story. He chuckled softly but stopped at the look of horror and indignation on his son's face.
"Son, you know that I hate to agree with Lex Luthor on anything, but hes got a point." Clark looked surprised.
"So you agree with him then?"
"I didn't say that. But he does have a point Clark. Up until a few months ago, Lana Lang never gave you the time of day. I know that part of that has something to do with her meteor rock necklace making you sick, but she didn't know about it's effects; for all she knew you were just incredibly shy. But she never really made an effort to reach out to you and get to know you though, did she?" Jonathan sighed at the sad look on Clark's face. "Son, I don't know if you love her or not, only you can answer that for yourself. But in this case Lex is right about one thing. You can't love someone you don't know. So do you think that you know Lana well enough after these last months that you've been friends to say that you love her?" Clark was quiet for a moment before slowly shaking his head. "Then there you go." Jonathan rose to his feet, problem solved.
"But what about Chloe?" He sat right back down.
"What does Chloe have to do with any of this?" Jonathan asked, already confident he knew what the answer was.
Clark squirmed atop his makeshift seat, embarrassed. "I was sitting with her last night, right before I left to go save Lana. That's where Lex and I talked. See, I kind of found out recently that Chloe has feelings for me." He paused and looked into his father's eyes to ensure his meaning was clear. "Feelings that weren't exactly friendly." Jonathan merely nodded for him to continue and Clark took a deep breath. "And ever since I found out, I've been trying to figure out how I feel about her. At first I had just decided to let it go because I thought that I was in love with Lana and I didn't think that it was fair of me to lead Chloe on. But now talking to you and Lex has me doubting my feelings or Lana and now I feel like I really do have to figure out what it is I'm feeling for Chloe." Clark rose and began to pace rapidly along the dirt floor.
Jonathan felt like bursting into laughter as he watched his son angst over his love life in front of his father, an act most teenagers would die before enduring. But Clark had never been normal, so why should now be an exception. Personally he had felt for a while that Clark was wasting his time worrying over Lana. After all Clark was in high school and he would regret it in the end if he wasted his years there pining after a girl who was never going to care for him the same way he cared for her. He kept these thoughts to himself however. Clark had trudged on, oblivious to his father's contemplations.
"I mean obviously I care about her, she's my best friend. And yeah she's beautiful, I mean I'm not blind, but that doesn't mean anything when it comes to my feelings. And just because she gave me my first kiss doesn't mean that I'm going to have feelings for her now." Jonathan's mouth opened in shock. When had this happened? Clark was oblivious to his father's surprise as he ceased his pacing and whirled around to face him. "What do you think dad?" His father blinked and appeared floored by the question.
"It doesn't really matter what I think son, it's what you think that matters."
"But that's just the thing dad, I don't know what to think; I'm just so confused and I just want someone to tell me what I should do." Clark sank back onto his makeshift seat, his head falling into his hands. His father looked on helplessly, longing for the days when he could give his little boy all the answers and make everything ok. But those days were gone and this was something that Clark had to do for himself.
"Son as much as I would love to tell you what to do here, but no one can decide your feelings but you. Just ask yourself what your feelings about her are and then try to answer yourself honestly. That's all any of us can do." He rose and placed a hand on Clark's shoulder. "Clark, I couldn't ask for a better son, human or not. No matter what you decide, your mother and I will always be here to support you." He patted Clark on the shoulder and then began to walk back towards the house, confident that Clark would figure everything out eventually. Besides if Clark had done his entire days work that night, then he could afford to get a couple more hours of sleep. He might even nudge Martha awake and see how energetic she was feeling that morning. His smile grew wider.
Clark was left feeling distinctly unsatisfied. He had approached the conversation with his father hoping to get a definitive answer and finally make sense of all the conflicted feelings that were running through him, but had only achieved half of his goal. His feelings for Lana, examined in this new context no longer seemed as desperate and urgent. He had realized that in truth, he hadn't really known Lana all that well to begin with, and in the months since they had become friends, he had spent so much time pining after her and wishing that Whitney wasn't in the picture that he had never even tried to get to know her. He still thought that she was a wonderful person, and maybe she was the kind of person he could love, but right now he didn't and to his own surprise he wasn't feeling very upset about that fact.
Ever since he had returned home last night after rescuing Lana from a highly disturbed sheriff's deputy, he had been thinking hard and as he had realized the truth in Lex's statements. For the first hour of his insomnia, he had found himself reflecting back on the past few years and he was shocked when he realized how often his thoughts centered around Lana. How had he focused so much of his life on someone who he couldn't even stand near without nearly passing out? And without his vision blinded by images of Lana, he had finally seen all of the times Chloe had been trying to tell him how much she cared for him. And how much it had to have hurt her each time he had ignored her and then talked to her how about how in love he was with Lana. Without that blindness, he began to see what had been sitting in front of him for so long. He began to realize that he could care about Chloe as more than just a friend.
He couldn't believe that he was only now beginning to realize the depth of Chloe's feelings towards him, and not just the romantic ones. Despite the fact that he had hurt her repeatedly, she had never hated him for being so dense, and while she had occasionally lost her patience with him she had never turned her back on him and was always there when he needed her. From the first day he had met her, she had been the pain in his ass, the source of his smiles, and his best friend.
He definitely wasn't ready to say that he loved her. After Lana, he wasn't about to go around casually throwing that word around anymore. But he could say that his feelings were definitely more than platonic, and for right now, that was enough for him. He leapt to his feet, a new spring in his step. Once he finished mucking out these stalls, he would head inside and take a shower before grabbing a quick breakfast and heading for school. He doubted that Chloe would be there today after the incident the night before, but if he knew her like he knew he did, she would be over at some point that afternoon to thank him once again for saving her. If he planned to act on these newfound feelings, he knew the perfect place to start. That meant he was going to have to find a way to get his parents out of their bedroom that didn't involve psychological scarring. He was going to need a tux.