-- Chapter 14 -- MIA --

A little black Timex with its cheap plastic band and digital display rested incongruously next to a simple bit of blue alien rock. Clark Kent stared at them, his two most valuable possessions. One week ago today, he'd been standing in a field full of corn in the sun less than five minutes from home. He'd had the whole world.

Clark took up the watch and stared at the immutable numbers, willing them to flash forward and end the week he'd spent alone. The first day hadn't passed slowly. He'd had plans. The Eradicator was going down. Clark laughed. It had taken most of that first day to discover, he wasn't going to find her. She either anticipated his attack or maybe she always hid herself away when running a diagnostic. Either way, it didn't matter.

It had been a whole week with no one and nothing for company, excluding the little rock in front of him. Clark found himself actually working on his lessons far more than he'd planned. Galactic Standard wasn't hard as languages went. The Eradicator would probably be pleased. Talking to a rock/library wasn't the same as having a real conversation though, and Clark had never really been alone, at least not that he could remember. There had always been his parents and his friends.

Clark closed his eyes and tried to imagine what everyone would be doing back at home. Chloe, all smiles and journalistic fire would be on the bus, making mental plans about the upcoming edition of the Torch. Pete would be there with her, but they wouldn't be betting on whether he'd make the bus or not. It had been a week. Clark Kent had been missing for a week. That usually meant dead. They probably think I'm never coming back. That thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. His friends had to go on with their lives though. If they went on with the assumption that he was gone, it was his own fault. He could have told them the truth.

Would his parents be okay? They knew everything that was going on and they had each other. He had asked Lex to look after them and for them to look after him in return. Was that working out? Clark tried to imagine a Kent family dinner with Lex over to visit. The image was almost as ludicrous as Lex driving fence posts or shucking corn.

At least they were all safe. Getting home as soon as possible might take more time than he'd hoped, but Clark didn't regret his decision. "At least they're safe." Clark said the words in the language he'd learned, just to break the silence. "Hearing your own voice is better than nothing, right?"

"I am overdue. I apologize, Kal-El." The Eradicator moved with carefully programmed grace from the shadows and into the light. Her master had spoken in Galactic Standard? His accent was almost passable. "Have your studies gone well?"

Clark didn't fight the chills racing up and down his arms. The Eradicator was back then. Maybe now she'd be working properly. "My studies have gone well." Clark was careful to use her language, anything that might make her do as she was told. "I command you to shut down."

The Eradicator shook her head slowly and smiled. "When I am convinced that you are truly a Kryptonian in mind as well as body, I'll do whatever you ask. I would rip worlds apart or build them up at your command. If you asked, I would gladly cease to function. Until that day, you have no power to command me."


There is nothing like the rhythm and recoil to working with a sledgehammer. You swing around and let the weight of the hammer fall with gravity. If you guide the head true, the energy flows into the post and recoils up your arm. Then you swing around in an arc and begin again. Jonathan hissed as his swing missed the mark jarring his entire arm. He hadn't actually put a post in the ground for a couple of years. Clark was so much more efficient that he'd turned the task over to him entirely. "Just have to get the rhythm back." With a sigh he set the hammer next to his partially driven fence post. "After I get a little water."

Some people might think it was strange, working day in and day out when his son was missing. Of course they didn't know the whole story, or that Clark was coming home. Well Jonathan knew, and he believed. This farm was a testament to his faith. There was only one reason to keep the farm alive, for his family. If Clark wasn't coming home, what was the point? That first day his faith had wavered. Martha had shut him out and it was all so raw and overwhelming. He had taken Martha's stash of emergency flu season whiskey and wandered down to inspect the fence Clark threw up before he left.

Jonathan shook his head. It was better not to think about that day. He'd made a mistake and let himself wallow in his grief. If he could just get Martha over that hump, she had to stop grieving and start living or there wasn't going to be anything left of her. It wasn't like she never left Clark's room. He could tell that she'd been in the bathroom and she'd left some dirty dishes in the kitchen. It broke his heart that she wasn't able to come to him. If Martha didn't come out of that room soon and show some signs of improvement, Jonathan was going to have to get some help. It went against his nature, bringing in an outsider to deal with a family crisis, but Martha needed something he couldn't seem to provide.

The moment he opened the backdoor, Jonathan knew things had changed. He smelled it first. The aroma of turnip greens hit him like a pungent wave. He poked his head around the kitchen door, and she was there. There were dark circles under her eyes and she looked wrung out like an old dishtowel. It was his Martha, tired and sorrowful, but she was making her way back. "Smells wonderful."

Martha couldn't stop herself from jumping. It hadn't been her intention to get caught downstairs. She'd been worried that Jonathan wasn't eating what he should so while he was out working, she was going to fix something. It had felt good to step outside and walk in her garden, but it hurt too. Her baby was trapped in space somewhere with the Eradicator. She shouldn't feel good while he was suffering. "Smells like greens. They've never been your favorite."

"I love your greens." Jonathan put himself in the door so that she couldn't retreat. Now that he had her out here, face to face, he wasn't going to let her shut him back out. "I love you too."

Martha turned her stove off and leveled her husband with a long stare. "This isn't about loving each other. I know you love me. I just need you to make this okay, and you can't." Her voice cracked and new tears started to fall. Martha had cried so much over the last week that it was a miracle there were any tears left in her.

"I don't have to make it right. I know Clark's coming home. We have to keep it together for him. He deserves to have a home when he makes it back." Jonathan crossed the kitchen and enfolded Martha in his arms. She'd never felt so delicate to him. Usually so very strong and independent, her whole body was shaking with sobs. Jonathan couldn't remember any of the words he murmured into his wife's hair, but he held her until the tears finally stopped.

"Your lunch is stone cold. Go get washed up. I'll have it ready when you get back," Martha said. She could see Jonathan's hesitation. He was afraid to leave her alone, afraid she would withdraw again. "I'll be here."


An unstable nest of papers was the only way to describe the disaster surrounding Chloe in the Torch's office. "Pete, finally, where have you been?" Chloe asked. She hardly looked up from the stack of papers she was leafing through to greet her friend.

"Java run, captain, remember?" Pete said. He managed to work the tall Styrofoam cup onto a relatively safe section of desk. "Don't sneeze cause I'm not digging you out of that mess when those files collapse and bury you."

Clark would dig me out. Chloe winced internally. At least she hadn't said it aloud. Pete didn't need any reminders about their missing friend. "I'm a journalist not a structural engineer. Stacking has never been one of my skills."

"So what are you working on? Is this Torch stuff or Clark stuff?" Pete asked. It was an easy question. Those were the only two projects in Chloe's universe right now. "I'm always game to help. Do you have a mission for me that doesn't involve running to the Talon and back?"

"Keeping the mastermind in caffeine is a very important duty," Chloe said. She wished the smile on her face didn't feel so fake and brittle. "Actually, I do have a new plan on the find Clark campaign." Chloe gave up forcing the smile and pawed through one of the stacks in front of her. "Jason Fisk, he's a very talented psychic by all reports, but he's not cheap. Maybe he could get us a line on who the so called Eradicator is? It would be a place to start. I'm getting nowhere fast on my own." It was hard to believe that Clark had been gone a week. The longer you were missing, the less likely you'd ever be found. It made Chloe so angry and sad at the same time. The thing that attacked her in the woods, the Eradicator, could mess with your mind. It had to have done something similar to Clark, scrambling his brains so he couldn't get away. Well Chloe was going to find them, if she had to turn over every rock in Smallville to do it.

"An expensive psychic? I guess that's where Lex comes in," Pete said. He tried not to sound bitter, but he'd never been a fan of Lex Luthor. When Clark befriended him, Pete had hated it. It was like his best friend was defecting, joining the enemy. Clark hadn't ever understood where Pete's sentiments stemmed from. He couldn't understand why people disliked Lex on instinct. Clark just trusted people too easily. Now Chloe was using moneybags for all he was worth. Every hair-brained scheme she could think of, Lex would bankroll. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Pete was jealous of Lex. At least there was something he was able to contribute. There wasn't anything he could do to help find Clark. Running out for coffee when asked wasn't really helping.

"I always said you were a smart one, Pete. I'm heading over to the Luthor place this afternoon. Would you like to join me?" Chloe said. "I can always use the moral support."

Pete nodded. That was him moral-support-Pete.


"The odds of finding anyone alive after a week, if this really is a kidnapping are negligible. There hasn't been a ransom demand, nothing. I'm just telling you that you're wasting your money."

Lex stared at the middle-class private investigator standing across his desk. "I'll waste my money if I want. If Clark Kent isn't alive, the person responsible for that fact needs to be found anyway. You keep looking. I'll keep paying. I suggest you get back to work." Lex allowed himself to drop dramatically into his chair as the man beat a hasty retreat.

The wide-eyed, passive look Lex leveled on his closed door masked a hot frustration and anger. Clark saved his life on more than one occasion. He wandered around Smallville playing hero to anyone and everyone. It wasn't symmetrical or fair for Clark to be missing and presumed dead. Well, Lex was a realist and he didn't suffer from the illusion that the world was fair, but he would make no presumptions about Clark's death.

With a sigh, Lex scooped up a set of keys. Whether his friend was alive or dead, there were still things to be taken care of, promises to be kept.


Martha sat on her porch steps and stared at the seemingly endless fields of flat harvested corn. A job that should have gone on for at least a month was finished. Smallville had a way of pulling together when a crisis struck. The Mitchell boys came down with their dad's combines and made short work of the Kent corn earlier in the week. People with a missing son couldn't be expected to harvest their own crops.

Martha sighed and shook her head. It all looked too empty. Clark always loved the corn. It was a great place to hide and run. He wouldn't get a chance to be sad about losing his favorite shortcut to school this year. Martha let her eyes drift shut and imagined Clark was sitting beside her. She heard soft footsteps in the gravel, like Clark sneaking off to star gaze. Clark... It had been a week. Maybe he had already made it home? Martha stood and craned her neck. "Who's there?"

"It's just Lex, Mrs. Kent. I apologize for not stopping by sooner." I planned to have found Clark by now. "I hope I'm not intruding." Lex wouldn't let himself wince at Mrs. Kent's taunt pale skin. He didn't stare at the dark circles under her eyes or allow any of the pity he felt show through his expression.

"No Lex, I'm glad you stopped by. Jonathan is inside washing the dishes. Can you believe it? After all these years I thought he was allergic to dish washing." Martha folded her arms protectively over her knees and smiled. "Jonathan told me about how everyone has been working so hard to find Clark. He mentioned you in particular. A thank you doesn't cover it, but thank you." Martha couldn't help feeling guilt for all the time and effort being wasted looking for someone who wasn't even on the planet. They loved her baby too.

Lex shook his head and smiled back bitterly. "I sincerely wish there was something more I could do."

Jonathan paused just inside the screen door. He listened to Lex and Martha and made a decision. If Clark believed in Lex, Jonathan could give him the benefit of the doubt. This young man wasn't another Lionel Luthor, at least not yet. Maybe if they treated him like a human being, he'd learn to act like one instead of becoming a jackal. Clark had made him promise to look out for Lex. Well all Jonathan had to offer Lex was a little faith. It was all he seemed to have to offer anyone lately.