A/N: Here is the next chapter, more for set up than anything else. Be sure to let me know what you think.
Clark stood on the front porch of his family's farmhouse his hand once again clenched around the bullet as he beat his fist nervously on his thigh. It was late, would his parents still be up?
He almost gave an audible scoff at this thought, of course they would be up, they always waited up when he was out late and he was home much later than was normal.
Letting out a sigh he raised his hand to grab the handle of the front door before letting it fall to his side again and turning his gaze to his fist still wrapped around the the warped piece of lead. He had caught it, he had reached out his hand and snatched it right out of the air. He had known he was bulletproof and he knew he was fast, but not this fast.
Clark was getting stronger by the week, and now it seemed he was getting faster too. He grimaced to himself, lying in the palm of his hand was further proof of the fact that, despite looking it, he was not human. He could pretend he was, and there were times when he could almost fool himself he was normal.
Tonight had been one of those nights, he was going out with a girl having a good time and for a little while he felt human. But then everything had gone wrong and he was pulled back to his reality.
Why did that guy have to try and rob a movie theater?
Who tries to steal from a movie theater?
What could have been going through his head?
These questions and many more were rushing through his mind when his keen ears picked up footsteps heading towards the front door.
Before the footfalls were to near Clark decided to enter his home and meet them halfway instead of having the conversation that was sure to come on the front porch. As the door swung open and Clark was meet with the sight of his father in a less than happy mood.
"Clark, where have you been? Your mother and I have been worried sick!" Jonathan Kent said sternly and a little louder than Clark would have expected.
"Why?" Clark said back bitterly, surprising himself at his response, he had not meant to say that, or at least not in that tone.
"Why?! It's two in the morning and we haven't heard from you all night!" his father shouted back his voice raising.
"...it's not like anything will...could happen to me…" Clark mumbled back.
"That's not the point, we're your parents, we have the right...Clark, son,are you alright?" Clark's father's voice and tone changed in an instant when he noticed the sick look on Clark's face as he sat down at the kitchen table. Clark had never been sick a day in his life, never a fever, never a cold and now seeing his son like this had Jonathan Kent extremely worried.
Clark sat still and didn't say a word before he simply shook his head.
"Clark...what happened?" his father's voice, that had been hard as stone a second ago, was now soft and laced with concern.
In response Clark extended his hand to his father and opened his clenched fist to show him the mutilated piece of metal. It took his father a moment to recognize what it was but once he did he reached out and plucked it from his son's palm.
His father was silent for a moment before he let out a small sigh, he thought he had an idea of what had happened."Date night ruined huh? Don't worry son, I know it can be rough for you every time something like this happens but it'll get better, I promise," he said giving him a small smile.
Jonathan Kent was hoping that having to thwart robbery and a ruined date night was all that was the matter, but he could tell that something else was wrong, seriously wrong. Clark had been known to mop about like this from time to time when he did something like this, he saw it as a reminder of the fact he wasn't like everyone else, but this was something else entirely. It was then he heard his son mumbled something he couldn't quite make out.
"Sorry son, what was that?"
"Is mom still up?" he said again this time loud enough for his father to hear though his voice was shaky and barely above a whisper.
"Yes she's upstairs, do you want me to get her?"
Clark thought for a moment. He certainly didn't want to worry her longer than was necessary about his absence. But then again did her really want to burden her with what had happened tonight? He knew she would have to find out eventually and honestly he didn't want to tell his father tonight either but that was not an option at this point.
"No...could you just tell her I'm home safe so she can go to bed," Clark asked simply of his father.
Giving his son a quick nod and muttering "No promises," he said with a small smirk both knowing exactly what he was referring to.
Clark's father left and headed upstairs and after a short time Clark heard the sound of two sets of footsteps coming down the stairs. As both his parents entered the kitchen Clark's father gave him a look that said 'I tried' and his mother ran over and began to check on him.
"Clark, honey are you alright?" his mother said in an almost frantic tone. At this Jonathan Kent spoke up.
"There was an...ahhh, incident tonight...shots were fired," Martha's husband said a little hesitantly before showing her the bullet.
Martha looked at smashed projectile before looking back at Clark and frantically looking him over as though she may find some injury on him.
"...I caught that one…" Clark mumbled quietly giving a vague gesture towards his father whose face changed quickly from concern, to surprise, to a look of mild amusement.
"Really? You just stuck out your hand and caught it huh? I guess you're getting quicker too," he nearly chuckled as he spoke before he noticed the still pale look on his son's face.
"Yeah...that one, but the next one just hit me and bounced back at him and...I was shocked, I've never done anything like that before I didn't, I couldn't react. The bullet bounced back and it...it…" he trailed off, not wanting to finish.
Without saying a word Clark's mother wrapped him in a tight hug. He hadn't said what had happened out loud but it was hardly necessary. It was painfully clear what had happened and his parents weren't about to ask him to relive it.
"I should have moved, or caught it, or…" Clark stammered until he felt his father place a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Don't. Don't start thinking like that son, you didn't do anything wrong. It's terrible what happened but…" he trailed off for a minute trying to find the right words. "But this man he...he made a choice to live his life a certain way and when you do that...your life can only go so many ways. It's awful to say but that's the sad truth of those unfortunate souls," Jonathan said feeling like he hadn't said enough or like he had spoke too much. He really wished he knew how to handle this.
"...something else happened too, while I was at the police station," Clark said with a significant tone of trepidation in his voice.
Hearing this Jonathan and Martha Kent exchanged concerned looks. Clark had been nervous seconds before, but now there was a good deal more fear in his voice and both his parents had the same thought and both felt their blood run cold.
"What is it honey?" Martha asked, almost not wanting to hear the answer.
"Well...once the officers were done questioning me another man came in," he trailed off for a moment before taking a deep breath. "He said his name was Ozpin, he's the headmaster of Beacon Academy...he wants me to attend his school," Clark told them not quite wanting to voice why Ozpin had asked him to come to academy, though he was certain they knew, there was only one reason anyone would ask Clark to go to a school that trained huntsmen.
"Clark...why would he want you to go to Beacon?" his father asked, the color draining from his face. He knew why, of course he knew why but there was still some small grain of hope in the back his mind that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't what he dreaded.
"Dad...he knows what I can do...he's been watching me," Clark said looking up and meeting his father's eyes.
"How long? How much does he know?"
"I don't know...I don't know, he just said he wants me to come to his school, to give me a safe place to train," Clark told them.
Clark's father began to pace the kitchen and frantically running his hand through his hair. He didn't trust what this man had asked of his son, if he knew what Clark could do it was hard to believe he just wanted to train him. There had been some close calls and every time it was someone trying to exploit Clark or trying to take him away to study him. Every time prior they had been able to deflect those who had come close, but now it appeared there would be no deflections or preserving of this secret.
"Clark… what do you think...do you think he can be trusted?" Martha spoke out breaking her husband's mental triad and causing him to stop his pacing.
Clark looked over at his mother, who gave him a soft but worried smile. He thought back to his encounter with Ozpin, he hadn't thought about it at the time but as he recalled their meeting he began to try and remember everything he could. His face was sincere, his body temperature was nominal, his heartbeat had been as steady as a metronome.
"I think he was telling the truth," Clark said somewhat unsure of himself. He could always tell when someone was lying, but something about Ozpin had, well, not unsettled him but made him feel unsure.
"I don't trust him, every time something like this happens they always want something, none of them ever just wants to help you," Jonathan said frustratedly.
"You and mom did," he answered simply and that seemed to cause his father's anger and suspicious to eb, even if it was just slightly.
"Clark...things were different, your mother and I…" he trailed off looking to his wife hoping she'd lend him a little support.
"What you're father is trying to say," she started, looking from her husband to her son "Is we never wanted wanted anything from you except for you to be our son. The moment we found you, you were ours and we loved you. We knew you weren't like other children but we didn't care. But now that you've grown up and started developing your...talents, and all the close calls we've had we...well, we worry that this man may try to exploit you, " she finished calmly.
Clark looked down at his hands as he let those words soak in. He knew there were people out there who would try to turn his gifts towards ill-intent and a few of them had come dangerously close to finding out the truth, the full truth, about him. But he, his father, and his mother had always managed to keep that nightmare at bay.
Putting all that in his head Clark could easily see why his parents were so wound up. But there was something about Ozpin, Clark knew, he could tell, Ozpin was telling the truth. This may very well be a chance for him to try and do something more with his life.
They were all silent for what felt like forever before Jonathan let out a long breath. "Clark...what do you want to do...you're mother and I we...we wanted to protect you from the world, but now the world has come knocking at our door. You're not a child anymore, you're a young man now and we will trust your judgement," he finish gripping tightly onto his wife's hand.
Clark took a long look at the only parents he had ever known. They had done the best they could with a child and life so full of unknowns and uncertainties. They had cared for and loved him since the beginning and had always treated him like their own flesh and blood. It was here again, at this thought, that Clark was reminded that he wasn't their child, not in any genetic or even legal sense technically. He wasn't even the same species. Yet, despite all that, they still called him son.
These thoughts raced back and forth in his mind. He was conflicted and he wasn't entirely sure what was right, or even what he really wanted. Should he stay? Should he leave? He wanted to go. He wanted to stay. He needs to protect his family. He should learn to help everyone.
All these things raced through his thoughts as he struggled to come to decision. Why was he having such a hard time with this? He had often wondered what it would be like to get off the farm and see what he was truly capable of, but now that the choice was in front of him he felt frozen with an inability to decide.
It was here that his eyes wandered from his parents to a photo framed and hanging on the wall behind them. Inside the frame stood his parents, far younger and holding a small dark haired child all of them laughing at something unseen.
Clark couldn't remember that day but his parents had told him about it. It was the first photo of them as a family after they had managed to scrounge up some papers that were able to prove that the Kents had legally adopted the young boy. This of course wasn't true, there was no way an extraterrestrial could in anyway have any sort of one hundred percent legitimate adoption. But that wasn't what was brought to the forefront of Clark's mind.
No, what came to him was the kindness and selflessness of the young couple in the picture. They had saved him, kept him, loved him, and protected him. They risked an awful lot the help some strange child they found in a field when it would have been so much easier to just turn him over to the authorities. The Kents made a potentially life threatening choice on that day simply because they knew it was the right thing to do, and then Clark knew what he was going to do.
Letting out a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding he looked back to his parents.
"I think...I think I want to go. I think it's what's best, I want to learn how to control my powers, I think...I think in the end it will help me protect you and help me protect everyone," he spoke softly not quite looking at his parents. But he could tell what they were thinking by the change in their heart rates.
The were worries, of course they were worried. But when he finally raised his head to meet their eyes he saw something there. Surely their concern was self evident, but there was also a clear look of acceptance and, at least Clark thought he saw, a tiny glint of pride mixed with their worry.
Letting out a long held breath Jonathan Kent beat his palm lightly on his thigh, a nervous habit of his when he felt uncomfortable.
"Well...I'm not gonna to pretend like that's what I wanted to hear but…" he trailed off as he briefly looked away from his son before meeting his gaze again. "But we…" he stopped again when he felt his wife take his hand in a firm but gentle grip.
"We just want you to be happy Clark," Martha finished her husband's thoughts for him. To which he simply nodded.
"Mom, dad, your the best parents anyone could ask for but...this something I need to do, with everything I can I do I can't just…" he didn't finish the thought, but he didn't need to.
His parents knew, they had know for a long time Clark would not be staying. They knew before he did, this farm was their life but it wasn't going to be his, and they didn't fault him for that.
With that Clark stood up from the table, scooping up the mashed bullet, and walked over to his mother and father before wrapping them in a hug.
"Thanks…" was all he could mutter as his parents returned the embrace.
They stayed like that for a moment before they broke apart.
"Well, it's late, I think it's time we all got to bed," Martha said as she wiped a tear from her eye. "There's going to be a lot to do," she continued with an almost forced smile.
"You two go ahead, I'm gonna stay up for a bit," Clark said as his parents turned to leave.
His father gave him a quick nod and pat on the shoulder. He knew Clark needed some time alone after everything that had happened, they would talk in the morning.
"Don't stay up too late, goodnight son," he said turning to head up stairs. He glanced back at his son quickly before turning the hallway light off and heading upstairs.
The lights clicking off had no real effect on Clark's ability to see as he navigated his way through the now dark kitchen and made his way back to the front door. Exiting his home he slowly made his way towards the family's barn.
With a quick hop he found himself on top of the barn. Tumbling the battered bullet between his fingers he glanced up at the shattered moon of Remnant.
Looking down at the deformed projectile he felt his anger rise. Pulling his arm back he tossed the bullet at the moon. He watched as it flew higher and higher and it did not arc.