Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville or these characters.

Thank you to my reviewers for your kind comments.

Jonathan, being the stubborn man that he was, refused to take it easy with his arm. The very next morning, he was up and working as usual.

"Jonathan, I'd appreciate it if you'd follow the doctors' orders," Martha said, sounding anxious as she cut Clark's breakfast pancakes up for him.

"It doesn't hurt, Martha. It only itches. I'm fine." Jonathan served his wife a pancake. "Have some breakfast. You need to eat, too."

Clark seemed to be in a good mood. He had slept through the night peacefully and cooed happily when his mother came in to rouse him. When Martha had dressed him and taken him downstairs for his breakfast, Clark had exclaimed, "Daadaa!" and ran over to his father, arms open wide.

"I think I could get used to this parenting thing," Jonathan had kidded.

Now Martha was quiet as she finished cutting her son's pancakes. She handed Clark the small plastic fork, and Clark began to eat small bites. "I don't want to hurt him, Jonathan. It breaks my heart to see Clark sick or in pain," she said to her husband quietly as she turned to face her own breakfast. "But I want to know for sure. I want to know if Clark has some sort of allergy to those meteor rocks."

"The more we know about Clark, the easier it'll be to raise him, honey," Jonathan assured his wife.

Clark knew that something wasn't quite right. He cocked his head to the side, eyeing his parents.

"Don't worry, little guy," Jonathan assured his son. "Mommy and Daddy are going to take good care of you. You'll be fine."

Clark smiled, and Martha's heart soared. She loved seeing her son happy.

"Okay, sweetie. Let's build a sandcastle. Here, let's take our pail and shovel."

A short time later, Martha was playing with Clark in his sandbox. Her voice was shaking; she felt like such a bad parent. She didn't want to hurt her son, but she needed to know if the meteor rocks really hurt Clark.

As Clark was piling sand into his pail with the shovel, Jonathan snuck up behind him, holding the large chunk of meteor rock that he had forced out from the tractor yesterday. Martha's eyes dotted back and forth between her husband and her son; at first, Clark didn't seem to react, but when Jonathan was about five feet away, Clark put down his shovel and began to cry.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Martha asked, picking up her son's hand. After all, Clark could just be hungry.

All of a sudden, Clark grabbed his stomach with one hand, and his chest with the other, and fell to his side. He was still crying, and he was starting to burn up with fever.

"He's sick!" Martha yelled to her husband. "He's running a fever!" She climbed inside the sandbox and held Clark in her arms.

Jonathan turned around and hurled the rock as far away from him as he could, using his good arm. Then he knelt down beside Martha, and felt his son's forehead. "He's really burning up," he said to his wife quietly. "And he keeps holding his chest, like he's in pain."

Clark had stopped crying, but he was numb and barely breathing. "Take him inside," Jonathan told Martha. "Get him comfortable, on the sofa."

Martha held Clark close to her chest, and Jonathan helped her take Clark inside the house and place him comfortably on the living room sofa. Martha stroked his brow and held his little hand, and Jonathan covered him with a blanket.

"He's starting to come around," Martha said quietly. "His fever is waning."

Jonathan nodded and watched as his son blinked his teary eyes, then grabbed his blanket and pulled it tighter around his chest. "Maamaa," Clark moaned. "Daadaa."

"Don't worry, Clark," Martha smiled. "We're here for you. We know your weakness, and we're going to protect you." She turned to Jonathan. "I still feel like a bad parent."

"Martha, it was the only way we could find out," her husband assured her. "You're not a bad parent, and you never will be."

Martha wiped a tear. "Thanks, honey."