Kyle had been driving around for about an hour with no idea where he was going or what he was doing.
He'd left the Kent farm in a haze, so speechless he'd barely even acknowledged the two boys who were still standing on the porch, looking almost as stunned as him, and mumbling to each other with a tone of concern.
Still, considering what had just happened, they didn't look that stunned. Clearly, this wasn't the first time they'd seen their father fly.
Kyle shook his head roughly, trying to somehow pull himself out of his dream-like state and keep his focus on the road – but his thoughts were a mess and he was struggling to stay present. Clark Kent had just flown away from him. Clark Kent… the dorky kid he grew up with. The quiet, awkward weirdo who was always trying to get out of sports and was always the wallflower at parties. Teacher's pet, momma's boy Clark Kent.
None of this made sense. How was this even possible? Kyle knew the guy. He'd known the Kents his whole life! They were good, salt of the earth people. There was no way they would keep this kind of dangerous secret from everyone in Smallville this whole time… would they? Had they even known? Or had Clark hidden the truth about himself from even them? No that didnt feel right... they'd always seemed so close.
His mind made another desperate attempt to convince him he must have been imagining things, but he couldn't deny what he'd seen with his own eyes. It's not like when he was still drinking… now he was sober, he could generally trust his memory of the night's events.
He reached down to his side, gently touching the area where Kent had pushed him away. It still felt tender, and the physical proof felt like something tangible to hold on to.
Two fingers. That was all it had taken.
He'd pushed him back so hard Kyle had stumbled at least a few steps before he found his footing. He hadn't let on at the time, but it had hurt too. He wouldn't be surprised if there was a bruise growing beneath his shirt.
Kent had seemed pretty stressed about whatever he was flying off to… guess he'd been a little less careful than he usually was. Kyle's mind flashed back to that night in the diner a couple of months ago, when he'd seen the man unexpectedly face up to Emmett Pergande. He'd not budged an inch when Emmett had tried to shove him, and then he'd thrown him against that counter like it was nothing. At the time he'd been surprised… maybe even vaguely impressed… that he'd had it in him.
He should have known then something was up. Should have connected the pieces of this crazy puzzle that had been building in his mind ever since that explosion at the kid's bonfire, and that mysterious frost after the town hall fire.
'I'll explain it all to you tomorrow.'
Kyle felt a sudden rush of anxiety as he considered how that conversation might go.
He'd stormed over to the Kent farm out of stubborn determination, feeling pushed to the edge by the events of the day. Chrissy had blankly shot down his theories that morning, giving him no good reason why. Sarah denied anything weird happening at that crash, even though there was clearly no way they could have survived without a scratch on them without something being up - and then even Lana had made it seem like he was being crazy for thinking someone with superpowers might be involved.
He'd needed some answers, needed to know he wasn't losing his mind. He had a theory, and with all the knowledge he'd had at the time, he was pretty certain he was right. With everything that had gone down with X-K last year, and now Jonathan being at the centre of so many of the weird events that had gone on these last few weeks… it seemed logical that he was the one who had powers.
Boy, had he over-simplified things. Somehow, the truth was so much more complicated than he had ever considered, and he felt even more lost than he did before.
Clark Kent was Superman… this was just too surreal.
It hadn't taken long to put what he'd seen together with the red and blue superhero, even with the brain fog. Cold breath, super strength and flight? It'd be a pretty big coincidence if Kent just happened to have three of the man of steel's powers, but was just some other random kryptonian. Especially since, now he thought about it, he did look a lot like him.
Man, he really did have some balls, wearing only a pair of glasses as a mask.
But it was more than that, wasn't it? Superman was such a larger-than-life character. Other than the interview he'd done with Lois (oh man, no wonder she got so many scoops!), he didn't exactly spend a lot of time letting people get to know him. He'd gained the public's trust, but he was still, for the most part, a mystery. He always stood tall, held himself with confidence and quiet strength.
Clark Kent on the other hand… he was just an openly dorky, naïve, earnest, goofball!
Was that a façade? Or was the hero the mask? It was hard to imagine he'd been faking his awkwardness since they were kids… no, that part of him had to be real. It just looked like there was a side to him he'd kept close to the chest… a side he only let the world see once he put on a pair of tights and a cape. A side he tried to keep separate from Clark Kent.
Other than people he trusted. It seemed obvious now, that's why his girlfriend and his family had been gaslighting him all day - evading questions, lying straight to his face. They all knew, didn't they? My god, was he the last guy in town who'd been kept in the dark about this?
No… clearly this wasn't the kind of thing Clark would just go around announcing to the whole of Smallville. In fact, he'd obviously not wanted to tell him back there. Something had pushed him to show his hand… what had happened?
Kyle had noticed Clark cock his head slightly, at the time just thinking it was an expression of anxiety, but now he wondered if it was something else – had he heard someone? A call for help? Was there some disaster happening he had to go stop?
He felt an unexpected tug of guilt at the thought his confrontation might have delayed him from responding. He knew all too well just how big a difference a few seconds could make when it came to emergency responding.
Kyle pulled the car to a stop, looking up at the place he'd driven to on autopilot and blinking a few times in vague surprise. Britt and Dunn's lights were still on, though he guessed there wasn't much time to go before the store would be closing. The parking lot was practically empty, and he knew Sarah's friend Denise tended to close up early on weeknights.
Now that he realized where he was, he could sense the familiar tug of craving clutching at his chest. The niggling voice that probed at the back of his mind.
He really, really wanted a drink.
He bit his lip, trying to bring to mind everything he'd learned from his sponsor over this last year. Everything he knew he was supposed to do when he found himself in situations like this. There were so many things he'd managed to make it through so far without taking a drink. Somehow, he'd even handled the shame and grief of his divorce - although there had been some close calls many times through that process.
But this… this wasn't just life on life's terms stuff. This was completely unprecedented. He'd just found out he'd gone to the same high school as… Superman.
If any circumstance deserved a stiff drink to settle his nerves it was this one… but still, he'd learned enough in his first year of sobriety to know exactly where that drink would lead him.
Kyle had hit rock bottom physically many times in his life. He'd spent years dealing with the traumas he'd experienced on the job by finding solace at the bottom of a bottle, and as much as his wife had liked to sweep things under the rug, he'd know it was doing his family damage. At his worst, after that meth lab fire that killed six people - three of them kids under the age of six - he'd completely surrendered to the self-destructive hedonism that provided some escape from his feelings. Seeking oblivion was the only way he could get away from the horrific memories he was fleeing, and the pressure he felt about failing to live up to the responsibilities he had at home.
Then he'd had an affair. He'd crossed a line he never thought he'd cross and done something so shameful he was going to spend the rest of his life making a living amends to Lana and his family. He had no idea how much of his behaviour at the time had contributed to Sarah's suicide attempt, but he couldn't deny his part. She was suffering, and he'd been too out of it to even notice.
While he'd been running away from the problems in his life, his daughter could have died.
He'd managed to stop the affair then, and tried to be more present for his wife and girls… but even that hadn't been enough to stop him drinking. The folks in his first few meetings told him that was the nature of this disease. Cunning, baffling… powerful. It doesn't make any sense, and that's the point. It's insanity.
He couldn't even really grasp how he'd found the motivation to stop when he did. Missing Sarah's talent show rehearsal hadn't exactly been the worst thing he'd done, not by a long shot. But for some reason, on that day, the depressingly familiar look of disappointment and pain on his daughter's face was just too much. It broke something inside him and he hit an emotional rock bottom.
He was finally ready to ask for help.
It had been a rocky start – being taken over by an alien consciousness had kind of knocked off his early attendance - but he'd been sober for 16 months now. Despite his life ironically falling apart in so many ways, recovery was working for him. He was feeling better than he ever had – physically, mentally… even spiritually. He was much more at peace with who he was, and he just tried to figure out every day how to do the next right thing – to do right by his family and his community.
Kyle sighed, glancing up at the rosary beads wrapped around his rear-view mirror. He reached into his pocket for his phone, fighting against all the parts of him screaming to just get out of the car and walk into the store. He dialled his sponsor's number, suddenly aware he probably should have done that before storming over to the Kent farm in the first place.
His 'ism', as recovery folk called the voice of craving, started up its usual arguments as he lifted the phone to his ear.
Just go buy one bottle of whiskey. Or a six-pack. Okay, just one beer! What would one beer hurt? Haven't you earned it? Wouldn't anyone need a drink after what they'd just seen? You can't handle this without a drink. No one cares that you're sober anyway. What are you depriving yourself for?
The line rang a few times before going to voicemail. Shit. Kyle checked the time - it was ten past eight. The Freedom to Choose meeting across town had just started. He was likely there.
It's a sign, see? Just have a drink. You can't show up at the meeting late, that's just rude. Everyone will stare at you. Besides, it's not like you can share about this… what's the point in going? It's not going to help.
Kyle banged his fists against the steering wheel, letting out a frustrated growl that he hoped would somehow drown out the disturbed passenger in his head. He jabbed his keys into the ignition again, bringing the truck to life.
Somehow, pulling on the strength he'd found by connecting to something bigger than himself, he managed to drive out of the parking lot and down the road in the direction of the meeting.
He wasn't going to let Clark – duct taped to a tractor – Kent be the cause of his first relapse.
Even though, as it turned out, he probably could have bench pressed that same tractor if he'd wanted to.