Chapter 7

Lois and Clark sat in blissful silence on the couch in his Mother's house watching, but not really watching TV. Constantly flipping through the channels getting little snippets of the programs they passed, sometimes staying for a second or two out of curiosity, but Lois couldn't decide. There was a judge show she passed in a huff, followed by a talk show, and then a news show which she briefly stayed on to learn there were going to be meteor showers in a few days. She kept this up until she finally landed on an infomercial about a skillet one could use without oiling it. Frustrated with the lack of interesting programing she threw the remote into the empty couch cushion beside her and sunk into the crook of Clark's body. Clark inhaled the scent of Lois' hair deeply.

"That would be so useful if I cooked," Lois remarked after a few seconds.

"We have one of those."

"We do?" She turned her head slightly to give Clark a quizzical look and he greeted it with a small smile.

"Yeah. You don't know that because you don't cook."

She chuckled. "I'm so glad I have a boyfriend who is well-versed in the culinary arts."

"If by well-versed you mean 'can cook basic meals', then yeah I am," he said proudly.

She turned to him again incredulously. "Do you call rosemary roast chicken with garlic mashed potatoes, sourdough stuffing, and a corn casserole dish a basic meal?"

He blushed a little. "That's a Sunday dinner. Besides Ms. Lane, it's not like you don't have your own trade secrets."

She shook her head. "I'm only good at mixing drinks and concocting delicious beverages."

"Exactly. We're a perfect match. I do the feeding, you do the watering."

"Now if only one of us knew how to satisfy the sweet tooth."

"That's where I come in," said Martha Kent followed by a gloriously buttery smell. Both Lois and Clark inhaled deeply. "I have fresh-baked apple pie."

"It smells amazing, Mrs. Kent."

"Please Lois call me Martha. I picked the apples myself and cooked the crust from scratch."

"I can't wait to taste it, Mrs.-Martha," she said. Clark smiled. There was nothing better than the love of his life bonding with his mother.

"Come to the table and eat while it's warm. There's nothing on anyway."

Lois and Clark groaned a little to be pulled from their lazy Friday evening, but were mollified by the prospect of Martha Kent's homemade (and world-famous) apple pie. She had already set the table with a big piece for each of them, when they entered the kitchen.

"So, what are you two up to at the Daily Planet?"

Lois and Clark shared a slightly worried look. Throughout dinner they had been mum about their article and the other reason they were in Smallville. Although both Lois and Clark needed the time away from Metropolis, they had decided that the weekend with Martha shouldn't be just a vacation. Clark knew that his mother wouldn't be happy about it, but he couldn't keep it from her anymore. As he explained to her what their plans were, he watched dishearteningly as his mother's frown became deeper and deeper.

"What? Honey, I don't know how I feel about you interviewing people in town," she said, her pie forgotten.

Clark completely understood her hesitation. After the attack on Smallville she was just as nervous as Clark about the media attention that had increased there, especially on her farm. Everything had finally settled and now Lois and her son were going to rile things up again by asking the townspeople their opinions about super-powered individuals. So Clark tried to calm his mother as much as possible by informing her he was not going to interview anyone. It was no secret that everyone in town knew about Clark's powers, so to avoid influencing the individual's opinions by his presence, Lois would go solo while he stayed at the farm and did internet research. This did little to assuage his mother's fears.

"Everyone knows about Lois too. She was here interviewing about you before and she showed up in Smallville in a spaceship during the invasion."

"Mom, to inform people about this legislation we need the people's opinion. It's because the invasion happened partly in Smallville that we decided to focus on this place."

As much as Clark didn't want to admit it to Lois, he agreed with his Mom. Despite the townspeople's tenuous acceptance of him, he still had trepidation about the interviews. He hadn't been the only super-powered person that destroyed half their town. And those other super-powered people almost destroyed their entire world. His town had learned to accept him, but it had taken 33 years and apocalyptic circumstances in order for that to happen. The possibility of them accepting others like him was unknown. But their article was important. The legislation in question decided the fate of thousands of people. This legislation could destroy lives and he knew it would divide humanity further. He could not allow that. As his destiny was to unite Peoples, it was his responsibility to see past his own fears and weaknesses for the sake of others.

"Mom, we have to do this."

Martha sighed. "I understand and I appreciate that you're not going to be doing the interviewing. And this is important. But Lois—well you're very protective of Clark and are particularly...assertive when it comes to your defense of Superman," she said carefully.

"Martha, I promise I won't be abrasive no matter what they say."

Clark and his Mom sent identical skeptical looks toward Lois.

"I'll be the least abrasive I can be," she amended.

"Okay." She turned away from them and proceeded to put on her coat.

"Where are you going Mom?"

"Pick some apples. We're gonna need more pie."

The next morning Lois headed out early to town making sure she drank two cups of coffee and kissing Clark long and hard to inoculate herself from the negativity she might face. If the effect the make out session had on him was anything like Lois was feeling, he was sure she would be fine. He was able to sift easily through message boards about the legislation for over an hour before he started getting a head and heart ache. He then decided that fresh air would help.

As it was Sunday, all the workers are gone. Therefore Clark felt free and secure to finish the incomplete tasks left by them. Although he could have literally sped through them and have them done before mid-morning, he decided to do things the human way. The wood of the stairs in the barn was rotting and needed replacing. The longer he spent away from his computer the better he would feel was his logic, but it wasn't long before the hard labor was no longer a worthy distraction and his mind drifted to town.

What were they saying? He wondered. Why did it matter so much to him? Why did he so desperately still want their approval? Wasn't he above all that now? Didn't he know that what he was doing was right and that he was fulfilling his destiny? But he hadn't always done what was right. He had made a horrible choice once. He sighed. It was always back to that. Day and night no matter what happened, it weighed on him heavier than the world and-

"Clark, you don't have to do that." He looked up to see his Mom walking into the barn carrying a load of laundry. He hadn't heard her enter. She was smiling at him.

"Honey, that's why I hired people."

He stuck his hammer into a beam of wood.

"This farm is my home too. Just because I don't live here doesn't mean I don't have responsibilities here."

"Still, usually you don't do it like this. Is something bothering you?"

He busied himself by setting a new beam of wood where the bannister of the staircase would go, fished out a nail from his pouch, and began pounding into the wood.

"Clark." He wasn't listening. His repetitive pounding got louder.

"Clark." Still he pounded.

"Clark!" There was a ripping noise as the beam split off on one end. Angrily, he threw his hammer down. His back was to her.

"Sweetie," she said gently. "You know I can see right through you. I knew you didn't really want to hear about the people in town."

Clark didn't respond at first. He was very fascinated by his hands as he continued to stare at them. But he couldn't escape his mother and he didn't really want to either. Her footfalls followed her up the stairs to greet him in the loft and he felt her hand on her shoulder.

"I'm just...a little worried about what they'll say," he finally admitted.

"Say about that bill or about you?"

Dusty came trotting up behind Martha, first tentatively investigating the broken beam, then running up to Clark who eagerly petted his fur to ignore answering her question.

"Honey, I am a stubborn old woman, but I know when to admit that I'm wrong. And Lois is right. You saved this town. The people here know that. They protected you from the government before and they'll protect you again."

He shook his head still absent-mindedly petting Dusty.

"But this legislation—maybe it'll be a rallying cry to all the people who hate me still? And what about the meta-humans out there? Even if the people of Smallville support me that doesn't mean that they will support others like me."

Sitting there with his dog, he felt like a child again. Alone and scared. The only friends he had ever had were his dogs. Martha must have sensed his thoughts because when he looked up he saw a familiar sadness there.

"Clark, no one in this town has ever hated you."

He scoffed. "I don't remember much love." He saw the pain in her eyes. "Except for you and Dad."

Her eyes softened as she sat next to him on the stoop. "Clark. The people of this town and this world know that you are a hero. That's all that matters to them. Besides, truth and good are on your side and those always win."

"What about the bad things I've done?"

He looked at his mother desperately.

Her face was unreadable, but her voice was resolute. "No one is mourning."

He looked away from her. Just because no one was sad about Zod's death didn't make what he did right.

"Clark, you had to make a choice. And in that moment, you chose mankind. People will remember that," she told him tenderly.

"What about everyone else?" he asked skeptically.

His mother looked away. No matter the acceptance extended to him, she knew the lessons that they had taught Clark about the human capacity for fear and hate. So however badly he wanted to believe in humanity and have hope in their better nature, there was still a lingering doubt. He could tell by her eyes that her faith was tempered by doubt as well.

"I don't know, Clark," she said softly. "Sometimes it's hard to tell with people."

Clark sighed heavily.

"But," she said, "I do have faith that things will work out alright in the end."

She smiled at him and he returned it, but he didn't feel the same.