The sky over Kansas was just as clear and dark, the moon just as pale and bright, as the skies over Metropolis.
He could have gone to the Fortress. He could have gone to the apartment and waited for Lois. But neither of those places truly offered him as much comfort. Not like here. Not like home.
The Kent farm was more than forty acres of prime American farm land. Gone were the horses and cows; his parents, Jonathan and Martha Kent, having been retired for years, opted to simply enjoy life on a day to day bases. But the farm "feel" was always there. A feeling that Clark Kent, Superman, could feel even as his feet touched down next to the barn.
It was nearly four a.m. Superman could already hear his parents breathing heavy, his fathers snoring lightly.
Superman stood in the clearing in between the house and the farm for a long moment. His father's pick-up was parked there, and on the other side, a tractor.
He approached the tractor, eyeing it with appreciation. It was new; the showroom wax and finish still gleaming in the moonlight. His hands slid over the smooth metal, felt the soft leather of the seat.
"Superman, why didn't you save them?"
He closed his eyes and lowered his head and cursed himself. "Why?" he asked himself, his voice little more than a breath.
"Superman, why didn't you get them out the basement?"
"Why?" he asked again, his voice heavy with sorrow and pain.
"Superman, why did you let the die?"
He opened his eyes and caught his reflection in the polished metal of the tractor. His eyes were red and burning, but not from tears; fire leaked from his normally blue orbs.
"Why!?" he shouted. His hands tensed with rage and frustration. The polished metal crumbled like paper beneath his might. "WHY?!" he yelled. The tractor was over his head now. "WHY!? WHY!? WHY!?" He twisted and flung the tractor into the air with all his incredible might. Faster than any rocket or missile man ever made, the tractor shot into the sky. Within seconds, it was gone from sight.
Superman slumped to his knees in the dirt driveway of his parents' farm. A dozen different emotions swirled inside him. Frustration, sorrow, disappointment, those were just a few; but the one that stood out the most was anger. He was very, vary angry… angry with himself. He was angry with himself for not saving them; angry with himself for failing them.
The back door to the house swung open and his father was standing in the doorway with a shotgun aimed. "What in blue blazes is going on out here?!" He shouted. A moment later, the porch light flashed to life. Jonathan Kent scanned the area, his eyes quickly finding the small form with the red cape. A red cape with a yellow triangulated "S" logo.
"Clark?" Jonathan breathed. "Clark is that you?"
"Clark?" this voice was his mothers. Martha pushed past Jonathan and went down the steps. She was by her son's side a few moments later. Superman continued to kneel there, his eyes staring blankly at nothing.
Martha kneeled beside him and slowly wrapped her hands around his head, pulling him to her bosom.
"Oh, Clark…" she whispered. "It's okay, son. It's okay…"
Jonathan joined them then. He said nothing, but placed his hand gently on the head his son and caressed it softly. Together, Jonathan and Martha Kent did exactly what parents should; they comforted their son.
A half an hour later they were all seated at the kitchen table. Clark had changed from his "suit", to a pair of old jeans and a tee-shirt. He was sitting with his head low, a simmering cup of coffee cradled in his hands. Jonathan was sitting beside him, sipping his own cup of joe and working through a slice of apple pie.
Martha was standing next to the kitchen counter, a phone nestled between her head and shoulder. She was pouring herself a cup of coffee as she spoke. "Well, we just wanted you to know he was here, didn't want you to worry and all… Of course we did. It was on all the stations… Well, I figured he'd head here or to the fortress…"
Martha replaced the coffee pot and padded over to the refrigerator, removing a small cup of fresh cream, pouring and then stirring some into her coffee. "Well…" she continued. "You just tell Perry White that my son is visiting his parents, and he'll be back when he can." She added some sugar and took a few sips. "Of course, Lois. Anytime. Love you too. Bye."
Martha hung up the phone and walked to the table. She leaned over and kissed the top of Clarks head as she went.
"Is she upset?' he asked.
"No." Martha answered. "She was just a little worried is all. She said, well, I'm sure you heard her."
"Yeah." Clark breathed.
Silence then. Jonathan and Martha traded uneasy glances between sips of coffee and bites of pie. They looked from each other, to Clark, who continued to stare blankly at the table, and then back at each other. No one said a word.
"I was right there!" Clark said finally.
"We know, son." Jonathan replied.
"No." Clark said, pushing himself away from the table and raising to his feet suddenly. "No!" he fumed. "I was right there. No more than thirty feet above them. I should have heard them. I should have checked the foundation again. If I would have known it was a basement… I could have… I could have saved them."
"Clark," Martha said softly.
"What's the use of having all this strength, all this power, if I can't save three people when their dying thirty feet away from me?"
"Clark, the reports said that it was impossible to determine when those people died. They could have been dead before you even got there."
"Or they could have been banging against a lead door, screaming and crying, and begging for me to save them!" he responded fiercely.
"Wouldn't you have heard them if they were?" Martha asked.
"That's just it!" Clark began pacing back and forth. "I was so focused on the fire! I wasn't really 'listening' for anything else. There was so much static from outside; the crowd, the fire engines, everything! I should have focused more. I should have… I should have…"
"You should have what?" Jonathan asked, sitting his cup down with enough force the contents splashed onto the tabletop. Clark and Martha both looked at him with a mixture of shock and confusion.
"Well?" he asked again.
"I should have saved them." Clark responded resolutely.
"Clark," Jonathan said, rising from his chair. "Right now there's an elderly woman who gets to see the sunrise today because of you."
"And three that never will again." Clark rebutted. "Because of me!"
"And dozens of families who still have a place to call home because of you! Not to mention the rest of the entire world! How many times have you saved the planet, Clark? Either by yourself, or with the rest of the 'League'? How many times have you pulled someone, anyone, everyone, all of us; from the brink of death, and given us one more day to live?"
"But I didn't save them, dad! I failed them!"
"Damnit, Clark! Just because you have God like abilities that doesn't make you God! You can't save everyone!"
Clark looked at his father, his mouth set to respond harshly. But instead, he was silent as his words sunk in.
Slowly, Clark lowered his eyes and the tension left his shoulders.
His mother stood then, and was beside him. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him gently.
"We can't even begin to imagine what it's like to have all that strength." she began. "All that power. But life and death are beyond the power of all of us. Even you, Clark. Right now, at this very moment, someone in this world is dying, and there isn't anything you can do about it. When the good lord decides it's time, then it's time…"
"But I was there, Ma! I was right there!" he whispered.
"I know. I know." she comforted him. "And you did all you could have done. You saved everyone you knew about. You saved the entire block. You did everything you could do. Everything you knew to do. No one who loves you will blame you for it. You have given all of us a second chance more times than any of us can count; more times than most of us know about. Don't beat yourself up over this, Clark. You have nothing to be ashamed of." She squeezed him a little tighter then. And he hugged her back.
"Forgive yourself, Clark." She whispered. "Forgive yourself."
"I'll try mom." he whispered back.
They stood there holding each other for a long moment.
Jonathan slapped his hands together with excitement, drawing their attention to him. "I got just the thing to cheer you up, Clark!" he exclaimed. "Bought me a new tractor!" he said with joy. Clark's eyes went wide. "They just delivered it yesterday! Haven't even taken it for a ride around the farm yet. Figure I'll let you have first crack at it! What do ya say!?"
Clark's heart was pounding again, for a completely different reason.
"Dad…" he began, slowly pushing his mother away and preparing himself for what was to come. "About your tractor…"