Chapter Text
A cold snap blew through central Kansas, leaving the early morning colder than usual for mid-November. Clark enjoyed breathing in the cool air as he stretched another strand of barbed wire between the weathered fence posts. The rhythmic scrape of metal against wood usually helped clear his mind.
Not today.
His thoughts kept drifting back to the Talon.
Back to Lana.
He tightened the wire a little harder than necessary before catching himself. Beside him, Jonathan drove another staple into a fence post and glanced over.
“You planning on finishing this fence before supper?”
Clark looked up. He could see the air condense as his father spoke.
“What?”
Jonathan chuckled. “I asked if you were planning on finishing before supper. At the rate you're going, these cows are going to have plenty of time to wander into the next county.”
Clark managed a small smile. “Sorry.”
Jonathan studied him for another moment before returning to his hammer.
“I've seen you haul a whole roll of fencing across this field faster than you've walked ten feet this morning.”
Clark shrugged. “Just thinking.”
“I noticed.”
For a few minutes, the only sounds were the steady tap of Jonathan's hammer and the rustling breeze through the nearby trees.
Finally, Jonathan set the hammer down.
“Actually, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about.”
Clark glanced over.
“Now that the election's over, things are going to start changing around here.”
Jonathan rested both hands on the top of the fence post.
“When the Senate's in session, I'm going to be spending a good part of the week in Topeka.”
Clark nodded absentmindedly.
“Your mom can handle a lot, but she shouldn't have to handle everything. You've always helped around the farm, but…” He smiled. “Looks like I'm going to have to start relying on you even more.”
Clark stared at the fence for a long moment.
Jonathan waited.
“You didn't hear a word I just said, did you?”
Clark let out a slow breath.
“Dad…”
He hesitated.
“Lana and I had a huge fight yesterday.”
“You want to tell me about it?”
Clark turned to Jonathan.
“Dad, I don’t even know where to begin.”
Jonathan took off his glove, despite the cold. He placed his hand on his son’s shoulder and looked him in the eye.
“You can tell me anything, son. Start at the beginning, I have as much time as you need. Especially at the rate you’re working today.”
Clark attempted a small smile, and then looked down.
“Dad, I’ve been hurting Lana for a while.”
Clark fought back tears. The thought of Lana hurting because of him broke his heart.
“I haven’t been honest with her. When my powers came back, it felt like finding out I was an alien all over again.”
Clark turned, embarrassed by what he was about to say.
“Every time I avoided… getting close… I made up a stupid excuse. Lana was hurt by my distance, but I know she was hurt more, knowing that I was lying to her.”
“And you never considered telling her the truth?”
Clark frowned. “Dad, aren’t you the one always reminding me not to reveal my secret? To distance myself from anything Kryptonian? Besides, look what happened when Pete found out. He chose to move away, it was too much for him to handle.”
Until Chloe moved to Smallville in eighth grade, Pete Ross had been Clark's only friend. Watching his oldest friend leave after learning the truth was a regret Clark still carried.
“You’re right,” Jonathan replied. “But I do trust your judgment. Look at Chloe. She’s shown herself to be a true friend. She’s proof that the right person can be trusted with your secret.”
Jonathan put his glove back on. It really was very cold outside this morning.
“But you knew that already. It makes you wonder if something's been holding the two of you back.”
“What are you saying?” Clark turned back to face his dad. “That I don’t actually love Lana as much as I say I do?”
Clark paused.
“Dad, I don't want to lose her. But we seem to just be going around in circles.”
Jonathan picked up the hammer again and held it over his shoulder.
“I wish I could answer that for you.”
He looked out across the pasture for a moment before speaking again.
“Your mother and I have had our share of arguments over the years. Sometimes you think the fight is about one thing, and months later you realize it was really about something else.”
“Okay, but you and Mom are great together. Obviously you figured it out. It doesn't feel that way with Lana.”
Clark looked down.
“Do you think it’s gonna be over between us?”
“Honestly, son, I don’t know. Only the two of you can decide that.”
Jonathan smiled. “What I've learned is that when two people care about each other, nothing's ever as simple as it feels in the middle of an argument.”
Clark wasn't completely reassured, but the tears were gone.
Jonathan patted Clark on the shoulder. “Come on. That fence isn't going to fix itself.”
Clark picked up the fencing pliers again. His dad couldn’t magically save his relationship with Lana, but he knew how to put everything in perspective. Whatever happened with Lana, he would get through it.
Before he knew it, he'd sped through the last few yards of fencing. He looked up to see his dad smiling at him.
“There's the Clark I know.”
Clark let out a little laugh.
They walked the length of the fence, making a few final adjustments before collecting their tools. The familiar sound of barking came from across the yard. Shelby came trotting toward them, his tail wagging. Clark scratched behind his ears without even looking.
Jonathan smiled. “He still thinks he helped.”
Clark laughed. “He supervised.”
Together, father, son, and dog headed back to the barn to put their tools away. As they arrived, Martha waved to them from the front porch.
“Breakfast is ready. I just took the biscuits out of the oven.”
Jonathan put his arm around Clark’s shoulder.
“Your mother’s amazing, isn’t she, son?”
Clark smiled. “Yeah, she sure is, Dad.”
Clark thought about being married one day. A wife. Kids. A home of his own.
Naturally, he thought of Lana. For the first time, he wasn’t sure if she still fit into that picture.
After setting their tools down, they headed inside the farmhouse.
Martha greeted them at the door. “Go wash up before breakfast gets cold.”
Clark looked over the breakfast Martha had prepared. Fluffy scrambled eggs, sausage, crispy hash browns, fresh biscuits, pancakes covered in maple syrup, bowls of fresh fruit, orange juice, and freshly brewed coffee filled the table.
His mouth watered and his stomach rumbled. He disappeared upstairs to wash up and was back ten seconds later, fork in hand.
Clark reached for a biscuit straight from the basket.
“Careful, it's hot.” Martha warned.
But Clark didn’t even flinch. His mom knew he didn't feel the heat, but she reminded him anyway. She had always treated him like a regular boy.
His dad joined them at the table and laughed.
“Martha, give the boy a break. He’s all grown up. He can grab a biscuit if he feels like it.” Jonathan turned to Clark. “Right, son?”
Martha rolled her eyes at her husband.
Clark laughed. “Right, Dad. Thanks.”
Martha laughed too.
Clark took one bite and smiled. Somehow, everything his mom made tasted better after a morning working on the farm. It was the first time since yesterday that he felt at peace. Conversation and laughter filled the kitchen as the Kent family enjoyed breakfast together.
The sound of rolling tires on the dirt road leading up to the Kent house caught Clark's attention.
“Clark, what is it?” Martha asked.
“I think someone’s coming.”
Martha turned to her husband. “Jonathan, were you expecting anyone this morning?”
“No, sweetheart. Not that I know of.”
Clark got out of his seat and stood by the door. He saw Lionel Luthor step out of a LuthorCorp limousine.
“Mom, Dad, why is Lionel coming to visit?”
His parents exchanged a brief look.
Jonathan set his napkin on his plate and stood. “Don't worry about it. I'll go talk to Lionel.”
Clark sat down and watched his father greet Lionel at the door.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Lionel?” Jonathan crossed his arms.
Lionel looked at him, and then addressed the family.
“Jonathan, Martha, Clark. I believe congratulations are in order! What a stellar campaign. And that young Lois Lane, please do send her my regards the next time you see her.”
Jonathan wasn’t convinced.
“Thank you.” He looked at his family, then back at the billionaire.
“You know what? Let’s head to the barn where we can speak in private.”
Jonathan gestured to Lionel to head out. Jonathan followed.
Clark knew that he shouldn’t use his super-hearing abilities to spy on other people. But he didn’t trust Lionel Luthor, and he didn’t like the idea of his father being taken advantage of by the influential businessman.
So he listened.
“Lionel, let me start by saying that I’m sure I know what this is all about. Martha told me that she accepted your donation when we ran out of money. So, don’t think you can hold that over me.”
“She’s a good woman you have here Jonathan. I would never try to hold anything over you.”
“Alright, well now that's out of the way. What do you want? You don’t seriously think I would change any of my campaign promises, just because you paid me a visit to my home?”
“You know, Jonathan... I didn't contribute because I believed in your politics.”
He paused.
“I contributed because Kansas deserves someone better than my son.”
“Well that’s just it Lionel. If you don't have loyalty, even to your own family, how can I trust that you won’t go behind my back?”
“Surely two men who care about Kansas can occasionally help one another.”
Another pause.
Then, Clark felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Clark.”
He looked up. His mother was standing beside him.
“Clark... give your father some privacy.”
He smiled back at her. “You’re right, Mom.”
He helped her clear the table and do the dishes.
Martha moved to the other side of the room.
“I’m going to the laundry room to get more towels to dry these dishes, I’ll be back in a minute.”
He nodded. He couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in the barn. As he stood in the kitchen, alone, he decided to listen for another moment.
He heard his father yelling.
“...You can’t come to my home and threaten my family! You may have money, but we have integrity, and we have each other. Two things that the Luthors will never have, or could ever understand!”
“You're taking this far more personally than I intended. Calm down Jonathan. We can continue to discuss this … like rational men.”
“Alright, Lionel, you've insulted me enough in my own home. Get out of my barn, and get off my property.”
He paused.
“Don’t… Uh… ever come back here.”
Clark heard his father's words trail off. Something wasn't right. Every instinct told him to listen for more, but he had promised his mom he would respect his father's privacy.
Martha came back into the room carrying a stack of fresh kitchen towels. She stopped when she saw the look on Clark's face.
“Clark? What's wrong?”
Clark opened his mouth to answer.
The sound of tires squealing outside shattered the silence.
Clark and Martha rushed out the door. Lionel's limousine sped down the driveway, kicking up a cloud of dust behind it. Jonathan staggered out of the barn, one hand pressed tightly against his chest.
Martha screamed. “Jonathan!”
“Dad?” Clark called.
Jonathan looked up. He tried to answer, but instead winced in pain.
“Get back… in the… house.”
He took one more unsteady step. Then his knees buckled.
Clark sped forward and caught his father before he hit the ground.
Martha ran into the house to call 9-1-1, but Clark knew he could get his dad to the hospital faster.
* * * *
Clark stood in the waiting area of Smallville Medical Center. He looked over at his mother who was sitting in a chair, head in her hands.
He stared at the clock.
10:34
His hands were still shaking.
Clark's mind flashed back to Lionel storming out of the barn. His dad’s raised voice. The limousine racing down the driveway. If Lionel had never come... would Dad still be fighting for his life right now?
But another thought quickly drowned it out.
Jor-El.
This couldn't be a coincidence.
Clark's thoughts bounced between Lionel's visit, Jor-El's deal, and memories of rushing his father to the hospital.
Bursting through the ER doors.
Nurses taking Jonathan from his arms.
Doctors shouting orders.
Doors closing.
Waiting.
All he could do now was wait. He walked over to his mother and wrapped his arm around her. She leaned on his shoulder, tears welling in her eyes.
“It’s going to be okay, Mom.”
He wasn’t sure if he believed it.
“It’s going to be okay. Dad’s a fighter. He’s the strongest man I know.”
Clark saw the doctor approach them. Clark motioned to his mom and they stood up together.
“Mrs. Kent?”
“Yes?”
“Mrs. Kent, I’m so very sorry… we did all we could.”
“No!” Martha screamed in anguish.
“Your husband suffered a massive heart—”
The words faded into the background.
All Clark felt now was anger, sadness, frustration... and guilt.
HE HATED JOR-EL.
Then Clark heard his mother weeping into his chest. He didn't even notice when she wrapped her arms around him. But he felt her now. Tears soaking his shirt as she cried. He wrapped his arms around his mother and cried too.
His father had been with him earlier that morning, fixing the fence, joking over breakfast... just being his dad.
And now he was gone.