I do not own Clark Kent, Jonathan and Martha Kent, or Martian Manhunter. DC does. So, Please enjoy this chapter for free.

I'm fine! I'm fine! I'm fine! I've tested myself! I can lift more times my body weight than ants! I can withstand more pressure than things that live at the bottom of the sea! I can fly! I'm not … I can't be … Oh man. Ma and Pa don't even know where I am! Help me God! I thought I was doing the right thing!

Clark lay in a wet field in the dark not sure where he was, how far away home was, or even what time it was. Then, as if he needed something more to terrify him, a tall being that seemed like a column of darkness with red glowing eyes appeared over him. He tried to scream but sharp pains sliced through his lungs. The red glowing eyes disappeared. The figure seemed to squat down beside him. A familiar, but long unheard voice spoke softly and sadly over him. "Child, what have you done to yourself?"

"Moe?"

. . .

Clark had spent a lot more time than he wanted late that spring and early that summer watching footage from nearby Kansas counties and nearby states of homes, fields, and cars wrecked by tornadoes. Yet, he couldn't look away. As he saw bloodied people dug out from collapsed homes, pains of guilt shot through his gut.

That probably wouldn't happen to me.

He might even be able to hold a house up. Curiosity began to gnaw at him between feelings of sympathy for these victims. He began reading books at the library on the subject of tornadoes. He listened to interviews on the topic with meteorologists on the television as well as reports on the damage they were causing.

Teachers began talking more about it at school too. They appreciated his detailed questions and fixed attention if his fellow students didn't. At home though, his father raised an eyebrow seeing him lying on the floor with a book not assigned for homework open in front of him. It was turned to a page with a photo of one of the largest photographed funnel clouds on record.

His Pa's warning tone washed into his ears. "Clark, what are you thinking boy?'

Clark looked up at his adopted father. "Don't you think these things ought to be stopped Pa?"

"Of course I do, but I think if they could be, they would be."

"If anyone could do it … I could … don't you think?"

"Clark, I don't want to hear another word about this. You are jaw-dropping in what you can do, but tornadoes are tornadoes."

"Yes pa."

But, when he heard a bad storm brewing miles away in the middle of the night, while his parents were asleep, he woke up fully. He went out the window onto the roof and watched. Rex barked beneath him. Clark looked down at his dog. "Shush Rex …"

Rex sat down and stared up at his master, but Clark had eyes only for the storm in the distance. Despite all the miles in between the rooftop he sat on and it, he could see even the raindrops. His teeth clenched tighter and tighter as well as his fists. Then he saw the funnel cloud form. His eyes widened. "Oh no …"

He looked down at his dog, who had begun to whine. "Think I can stop it Rex?"

The dog got to its feet and began to turn in a circle and bark. Clark looked back to the funnel cloud and glared. Then he took off. He didn't bother lowering himself to the ground, just sped through the air like a plane.

Okay, if I warm the cold air near the bottom with my heat-vision, and cool the warm air above with my breath … Of course, using both of those takes a lot out of me and it's dark but … Can I just let it tear through my neighbors lands, maybe even our place? No! I am Clark Kent and Kal El. I have powers no one can copy or explain. I can do this. Maybe it's why I have them!

So, he sped into the storm. There was too much cold air at the bottom for him to heat up, and too much hot air to cool down. The sun was lighting the other side of the planet. The moon and stars had layers of clouds blocking them. So as he lost it, there was nothing to replenish his strength.

As he realized this and tried to get out he was caught in the vortex. Debris struck and sometimes stabbed through his weakened body. The tornado dissipated early, but also dropped him like a bruised and cracked fruit onto the ground. As Clark lay there, the myth of Icarus came to his mind along with many other things.

I'm sorry ma … I'm sorry pa … I'm sorry Rex, and Lana, and Pete! When will they find me? Maybe I'm not that hurt. Maybe I'm just … I'm just wet and cold from the rain! Why can't I move?!

And then, shortly after a prayer, a seeming demon appeared above him. Then it became a long-absent friend: the only other extraterrestrial he'd ever met. Moe's voice, though, while it held compassion deeper than a well, did not offer much hope.

"Child … what have you done to yourself?"

For Whumptober Prompt "Not realizing they're injured" and "unhealthy coping mechanisms." (Clark does really know he's hurt, but is in denial about it, which is an unhealthy coping mechanism.)

What do you think now?

God bless

ScribeofHeroes