CHAPTER 6: A FATHER'S GUIDANCE
INT. - KENT FARM LIVING ROOM - DAY
The next morning, Clark sits by himself, looking out the window as his parents banter a few feet away. He could hear them, but his mind was somewhere else, fixated on the possibility of an actual date with Lana. He'd spent three long years wondering what to do, only for Chloe to practically shame him into it out of the blue. "I can't believe I actually did it", he said to himself. Any other guy his age would be excited, but Clark was more terrified. He'd never dated anyone before, and to be honest, he preferred the safety of being distant, since he wasn't sure how to control his strength when mixed emotions were involved. He'd fessed up to Pete about this concern once, only for his freind to respond with playful mockery. But for Clark, this concern was serious; one wrong move could result in very serious damage, both emotional and physical. Finally, he just blurted it out, mostly to get his father's attention..."I can lift a truck over my head, and rip the roof off a car, but I'm terrified of controlling myself around Lana. What's wrong with me?!"
As expected, Jonathan and Martha instantly stopped their bantering. Martha's expression said it all: this was her husband's territory. Clearing his throat, Jonathan stood, walked over the couch where Clark sat, and joined him. Bold yet cautious, he chose his words carefully. "Son, we need to talk."
Immediately, Clark shot back, more exasperated than angry. "I already know about sex, Dad; we still have health class at the school. But none of those kids have the burden I carry; I could literally crush her without trying. Its taken me years to be able to control my abilities on the farm, and the main way of doing that has been to distance myself emotionally. But this...well..."
A beat passes, then Jonathan speaks. "Are you more scared of hurting Lana, Clark...or being hurt by her in return?" Sighing, Clark just shrugs. "I honestly don't know. Maybe I just don't trust myself enough. I don't even know why I have these powers to begin with; learning that might give me some perspective." Jonathan looks over his shoulder, back towards Martha; she simply nods. Sighing again, Jonathan returns his gaze toward his son. "Clark, come with me to the cellar; there's something you deserve to see."
INT. KENT STORM CELLAR - DAY
The dusty old cellar on the Kent family's property had originally been built by Jonathan's grandfather a hundred years earlier, to protect against tornadoes and severe dust storms. But in the last 30 years, not one twister had touched the farm, so Jonathan had considered it the perfect place to hide a secret. Leading Clark inside, Jonathan shut the door, and walked down the small stairway behind him. "What's going on?", Clark asked. "You've never taken me down here, and this whole place just feels creepy." Moving toward one wall, Jonathan moves some bales of hay aside, revealing a large metal crate about four feet high and six feet long. Taking a ring of keys from his pocket, he selects a small one, and hands it to Clark. "That box contains what little we still know about you, Clark...but to be honest, it still scares me sometimes." "Why?" "I think you'll understand, once you open it." Clark hesitates, but Jonathan insists. "You've spent 12 years on this farm, and we've loved you for all of them, Clark...but this may hold the answers you've been wanting, and its time you went after them."
Still nervous, Clark takes the key, approaches the crate, and unlocks it. Lifting the lid, an amazing sight meets his eyes. The object is a small vehicle of some sort, with triangular sides and a dome-shaped center. Strange markings adorn its surface, and a single indention is molded into one side. It is octagon-shaped, symmetrical, and about a foot in diameter. Upon touching the object, Clark is surprised when strange writing briefly appears, then fades away. Turning back to Jonathan, Clark seems confused. "I don't get it; this looks like something from a sci-fi movie. But aliens can't possibly exist..."
Jonathan's words surprise the young man. "Twelve years ago, I'd have said the same thing...until I saw a baby lift my truck's rear wheels two feet off the ground." He chuckles at the memory. "Your mother and I were so shocked, and we thought for years the Feds would show up...but no one ever did. We kept waiting, wondering when you'd be ready to know." Suddenly, the reality of this hits Clark hard, and he starts to tremble. One thought escapes his lips, but Jonathan can tell its been buried almost as long as that ship. "What...why...how do I deal with this? Am I some kind of monster?"
Looking Clark right in the face Jonathan offers the only advice he has: brutal honesty with a touch of grace. "No son I raised could ever be called a monster. You may not be my blood, Clark...but your mother and I gave you our hearts. We took you in with no answers of our own, and loved you as best we knew how. In every way that's not of the body, you are our son." Hearing this, Clark stands, and hugs Jonathan lightly. "I'm scared, Dad; what's to become of me?" Separating, the elder Kent man simply shrugs. "That will be your choice Clark, and yours alone. We've protected you as best we could, not knowing how or from what. But these next years will be very tough, and you'll have to write your own story." Clark nods, and decides to break the tension in the cellar. "Let's get out of here; I've had enough for one day." Jonathan nods, and Clark locks the crate. The two then depart, not just as family, but as equals. Clark knew his life would never be the same, but he was glad for a father willing to help him through it.