Chapter 12 [Kent Farm—An Hour and a Half Later]

[A/N: Okay now we have a few chapters away from Clark and Lana to develop the rest of the story. This is also where my last computer ate the rest of the original story. Here goes….]

Jonathan stormed into the house. Worry and Concern ate at him. News broadcasts reported on the plane's crash north of New York. Images of smoke and flames graced TV screens. A couple of hours had passed with no word from Martha or the teens either way.

Fortunately, Martha called from Swann's observatory. She assured him that everyone but the pilot had made it through. Even better, nobody had panicked. Everyone had worked together. That made him feel good…

…DeWolff, Stacy and the NYPD on the other hand…well….

I knew this was a bad idea! Martha, how many years did we spend keeping Clark safe on this farm? Lana's trying to help that pilot brought everything down on our heads! I know she was trying to do the right thing. She wanted to get that man to medical attention or a decent burial. Still, she should think! He ground his teeth.

A car rolled up the driveway. Grinding dirt and rocks attracted attention.

Now who? Jonathan raised an eyebrow. Visions of Ethan, the FBI, Sommerholt or worse, the Luthors danced through his head. He peered through the window to see more details.

Pete climbed out of the driver's seat. Urgency dictated a quick look around the yard and house. His plans for a normal day in Wichita ran aground on the Situation's rocky shoals. He'd texted his mother. Then, he sped back to Smallville. He waved at Jonathan. "MR. KENT!" He hustled up the walk.

Jonathan opened the front door. "Pete? I thought you were in Wichita?" He ushered Pete inside. "What happened?"

Pete raised an eyebrow. "That news! Man! They really were going to New York again?" He shook his head. "They can't keep disappearing like that."

Jonathan nodded. "No, Pete, they can't. At least someone understands that." He pointed toward the coffee pot. "I was just making some for myself. You're welcome to have some too." He set two mugs on the counter. Then, he took the milk jug from the container.

"That's cool, Mr. Kent. Thanks!" Pete fixed his coffee. The caffeinated draught revitalized him. "I definitely needed that! I had to deal with traffic. Sorry to show up like this." He took his phone out. "I just need to let my Mom know I made it."

"You should do that." Jonathan watched Pete. And now Pete's being pulled back here? How can we keep a secret like this? We did it for years by keeping our heads down and seeming normal. Now, this whole thing is pulling everyone out of their routines. We're attracting attention. Martha, I knew this was a bad idea. He fixed his own coffee. Then, he took a deep draught. "If she needs to talk to me, that's fine."

"Thanks, Mr. Kent. I think I'm good." Pete sat down at the table. He texted away on his phone. Man, Clark! You've gotta be more careful! Lex and Mr. Luthor are going to nail you! I keep telling him! He shook his head.

Jonathan sucked in a deep breath. That New York Detective's going to call back here. It's just a matter of time!

It does help when you have people watching out for you. You know?

Pete pressed 'send' on his text. His eyes went wide. "Dang!" He glanced at his mug. "I'm almost afraid to ask what you put in this coffee." He rubbed his forehead. "Lana's in New York. Man! I'm hearing her in my head now?"

"I heard her too, Pete." Jonathan stiffened. His eyes stared at the door…or rather at the window. He shook his head. "She's at the door now."

"What? No way!" Pete got up. Shock jolted him out of his seat. He edged up to the door. There, he spied the waiting Louise. "Since when does Lana dress like she's outta the fifties?" He edged the door open. Curiosity raised his eyebrow. "Lana? There a new store around here? I…"

Her eyes rolled. "Let me in, Peter, and I'll explain everything. Mr. Kent's parents knew me." She marched into the house. "Good afternoon, Mr. Kent. My! I haven't smelled coffee like that in so long!" She sucked in a deep whiff of Java's aroma. Her eyes closed. Satisfaction spread a smile across her face. "Ahhh!"

"Lana, you work at the Talon." Jonathan stared at her. White blouse and dark skirt raised questions in his mind. The old hairstyle raised doubts to be honest. He slowly lowered a mug to the counter. Questions about Jor-El's assault and its long term effects on her mental state. "I think you'd better sit down. Let's just talk about this."

"Lana?" An incredulous giggle spurted from her mouth. "Oh, I see! Yes, she and I look very much alike! She is in New York. I am her great aunt, Louise MacCallum. I have been sent back to talk with you both." She hung her coat on the hook. "Well! You sure have this house the same as your mother and father, Sarah and Hiram, did." Admiration took in every nook and cranny. "Joe isn't as bad as you think, Mr. Kent."

"Joe?" Pete swallowed his coffee wrong. "We know someone named Joe?" He noted Jonathan's reaction. "Mr. Kent?"

"You don't directly, Pete. I haven't talked with him. I really don't want to either." A dark frown contorted Jonathan's mouth. "How do you know about my parents, Lana?"

"Because they lived in this house when they and my family were neighbors. I died right before you were born. Joe…or should I say Jor-El…hid out in the barn. Your Daddy got him safely back to the caves. I died from a deflected gunshot wound in 1961." Annoyance raised her eyebrow. "Call Lana if you must. I told you she is back in New York. I was sent here. Clark saw me this morning in the cemetery."

"In the cemetery?" Pete's frown twisted the corners of his mouth in on themselves. Queer look shot toward Jonathan.

"Clark was visiting Sarah." A warm chuckle and a twinkle in her eye lightened her mood. "She is such a sweet little girl. She loves you." She walked over to the coffee pot. "I'll serve myself while you're thinking about that. My goodness! Ms. Sarah would have a fit!" She filled her mug.

"Wait." Jonathan raised his hand. "My daughter died."

"Yes, she did. As Alexander told Clark, she is not alone up there." She motioned toward the ceiling and the sky beyond it. "Given that close call with that airplane, we were so lucky. Must've been their lucky stars! Joe talked Clark and Lana all the way down to the ground. Mrs. Kent and Miranda had help. That poor pilot though! Awful!" Milk and sugar splashed into the coffee. Spoon stirred it. "Mmm! Thank you! The things we do not get unless we are down here. Mmm!" She drank a big mouthful.

"Talked Lana down?" Jonathan puzzled through that notion. "She wore a parachute."

Her hand stifled a wry cough. "Not enough of 'em, Mr. Kent. There were only two. She and Clark are super tough so they went feet first." Her eyes rolled. "She took down a massive oak tree on impact."

JONATHAN KENT WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND, LOUISE!

"Joe, stop! Give him a chance. You did threaten Kal-El and Lana. Remember?" Exasperation shoved a sharp sigh through clenched lips. "You two just do not get it! Clark is of both worlds now! Krypton and Earth! Deal with each other! Didn't Dr. Swann just tell Mrs. Kent and the kids that? My stars!" She took a big gulp from her mug.

"Lady, there's no one else talking! Who…?" Pete narrowed his eyes. Doubts crossed his mind as to Lana…Louise…whoever's sanity in that moment. He looked toward Jonathan.

I WAS TALKING, HUMAN! Jor-El snapped in his and Jonathan's minds.

Rainbow hues circled about the living room and kitchen area. Once more, Caves' symbols passed over walls, furnishings, and even them.

"Satisfied, Peter? That is Clark's birth father. He trusted Hiram and Sarah. So, he sent Kal-El…Clark…here to be fostered." A shrug lifted and dropped her shoulders. "Shame about his world…Krypton he called it." Whimsy pushed a deep breath from her lungs. Dreaminess glazed over her eyes. "The way he talked about it when he was here. When we were together, I told him I'd have gone with him."

"Gone with him? You mean to Krypton?" Jonathan made a face. "I can imagine what they'd have thought of you."

"Joe said the same thing. I wouldn't have cared." A frown darkened her face. "It's no worse than being forced by Dad to marry Dexter." A shudder quaked her form. "Daddy, I love you but…" Disgust narrowed her eyes. "I'd like to give that girl, Eleanor, a talking to! Trying to come between Lana and Clark!" She glanced off to the side. "And don't you start either, Joe! You're as bad as she is!" She pointed at a spot to her left.

"Is he…?" Pete looked about the area. "Mr. Kent?"

Jonathan's eyes narrowed. Resentment billowed up within him. Rumor and Gossip concerning Louise came to mind. Rationale for Elders' disdain grated on his ears. He curled his lip. "This is still my house, Pete. Look, Ms. MacCallum? This is still Earth not Krypton. Clark and Lana are here on Earth. I understand they have to live with who they are now. They have their abilities. But they live here! On Earth! They're human!"

She facepalmed herself. Her breath caught in her throat. "Mr. Kent…I…" She got up from her seat. "You're as bad as Eleanor." She walked the mug back over to the sink. Anger frothed within herself. "Thank you for the coffee at least. Remember, just because they have to act human and live among humans, Clark and Lana are NOT HUMAN! Not anymore! That's what that Dr. Swann is telling Mrs. Kent and those kids! Joe wants his way! You want yours! It's about them! Joe almost killed Lana out there! My niece! All right? You have this wonderful family! You know that? Lana loves everyone here! She wants to be part of this! Joe, she, and Clark want that! You force them…you'll lose them…" Her hand swiped several tears from her eyes. "Peter, remember that. They love you like a brother. Just respect Lana. She will need your support now." She grabbed her coat. Fiery glare stabbed into Jonathan's eyes. Her head shook ever so slightly. Then, she melted away into Sol's afternoon beams.

"Did she just…?" Pete stared at the coat rack. Incredulity forced a double take. His eyes blinked. He turned to Jonathan. Disappearance dispelled Doubt. Admonishments jarred him. Clark's mysterious voice…the symbols burned into the barn's wall…His eyes floated toward Storm Cellar's devastated remains.

Intercultural conflict…Sparks…Fire…Red Meteor-Fueled Rage….

Pete finished his mug. Nerves forced him to clear his throat. Experience reminded him not to speak up to Jonathan in that moment. Rather, Clark…Clark's voice dripping with Desperation's vinegar. Lament and Self-Mortification threw dirt on him….

…Clark surrendered…Ring went on…Kal came out…He left….

…Lana fought back…Jor-El failed…Lana rose up…She pursued...She won….

He got up from the table. "Thanks, Mr. Kent." He washed his mug at the sink. Respect and Diplomacy restrained him in that moment. "I hope Clark's okay. What a day!"

Jonathan nodded. "Everyone's got an opinion, Pete. We have to remember where the priority is. Maybe we can get something out? I want to make sure you get something to eat." He picked up the phone.

Pete bowed his head. Conflict's sparks fell around Argument's dry tinder and kindling. Sure enough, sparks led to smoke. He prayed against the coming fire….