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Top Copy: Jonathan Kent
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He had a nightmare, one that had haunted him for almost three decades. He used to see it every time he closed his eyes. He saw it in the dark earth he overturned in preparation for planting. He saw it etched on the underside of the tractor when he went on his back to fix its latest trouble. He saw it, maybe most of all, flickering between the channels of the television, smeared along the bright colors and flashy stories.
He heard it, screaming at him, layered through the polite greetings and small talk and friendly conversations with folks in town. He heard it before Martha hushed it, matter-of-factly, by telling him not to worry. He heard it, maybe most of all, in every phone call and visit from his son.
It dogged his steps, persistent and pervasive. A nightmare that could all too easily become reality.
After all, his dream had come true.
Before the nightmare, before the fear, he’d held tightly to a wish, so casual and innocent in high school, enduring and steadfast once he met Martha, so close and seemingly attainable when they’d first been married.
A family. Little children running around underfoot, tripping him up and looking up with big eyes, and calling him Dad. He’d never told Martha, but he’d imagined, maybe most of all, a little girl with his wife’s sparkling eyes, and a little hand that would wrap around his fingers so trustingly. A child to call his own.
A dream that had, eventually, become impossible.
Until it wasn’t. A ship fell from the sky and a baby nestled in Martha’s arms and looked up at him with big brown eyes, and wrapped a tiny fist around Jonathan’s thumb.
And suddenly, just like that, his dream had come true.
Thousands, surely, childless couples, all yearning for this same simple dream, but only he and Martha were granted such a miracle, such a blessing, as Clark.
And that was when the nightmare had crawled its way, scratching and poisoned, into his every restless night, countless waking moments. So strong, those first several years, that he could hardly breathe through the fear. Easing into a soft caution until once more exploding into horrible detail when all of Clark’s extraordinary abilities had begun to blossom. Steady, humming always in the background while his son traveled the world, only a few steps ahead of suspicion and discovery. Tamped down with all the willpower he could muster when Clark flew, brilliant and daring, straight into the arms of a reporter and the view of the whole world. Controlled, dimmed, a buzz that vibrated through his bones with all the familiarity of the thrum of that old tractor.
A nightmare he couldn’t escape, ever, because Clark was special and amazing and super. Because the world would always fear things it couldn’t control. Because his boy was so innocent and hopeful and good that he would never think to be careful, would never expect bad things to happen, until Jonathan warned him.
And it was all coming true, wasn’t it? Just like his nightmare.
A crowd of reporters, hungry for blood, glutted on the news story Diana Stride had released, all staring at Clark and ready to pounce. No more dinners at home or quiet phone calls or Kerth awards showed off with a bashful smile and a gleam in his eye. No more dreams of a woman to love him and a future following in his parents’ footsteps.
Just paranoia and suspicion. Expectation and accusation. Always hiding, always just a step ahead--until he wasn’t. Until he was laid low by that blasted green rock and spread out on an examining table somewhere miles below ground, away from the sun. Alone and helpless--and so betrayed because Clark never believed anything but the best in people.
Jonathan took in a shuddering breath and tried to stop his hands from shaking. It was all happening down there, just below him, his son gone out to face the firing squad, and now there were only these few lights standing between him and the reality of his nightmare.
“Oh boy, what am I doing playing with lasers? I’m a farmer.”
Just a farmer. Just a man who had a dream that came true. Just a boy from a town no one even knew existed who grew up and got his wish cast down at him from the heavens.
But still Jonathan steadied his hands, and he played with the lasers, and he fought his fear.
Because he was, after all, more than a farmer.
He was a father.
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Last edited by AntiKryptonite; 07/03/18 12:26 AM.
