It's Friday, time for some magic. Thanks to my beta, Lynn S.M.Smoke and MirrorsAs Clark climbed into his RV, his eyes fell on the copy of the Metropolis Star that lay on the passenger seat. Perry would have his head if he knew that he'd bought the paper.
"MagiKal - illusionist or arsonist?" The headline read.
He shoved the paper off the seat and into the back area, where Houdini was snoring soundly.
Why was he torturing himself like that?
Gritting his teeth, Clark turned the ignition and the motor roared to life. The radio resumed playing a country song as he left the gas station. Not long after that he passed the first sign that pointed him toward Smallville, Kansas.
Clark felt his stomach clench with dread. So many times he'd argued with his dad about becoming MagiKal. His father had warned him that it was just too risky to expose himself.
The music faded into the final chords. Clark heard the familiar jingle of the radio station.
”That was Johnny Cash singing ‘Ring of Fire’. And now we're talking to our correspondent on the East Coast. Good evening, Carol. Can you tell me if there has been any statement from Metropolis’ famous illusionist, MagiKal?”
“Not yet,” Carol replied. “There’s only been ongoing speculation about the cause of the fire. Today’s headlines differ greatly. The Daily Planet is praising MagiKal as a hero, while some smaller papers like the Metropolis Star are speculating whether he might have staged the fire to—“ Clark turned off the radio and heaved a sigh. At least Lois still seemed to be on his side. But many others were not.
It was a nightmare.
Never had he imagined it would end like this. People were arguing about whether it was appropriate that an illusionist saved people from a burning building, accusing him of doing it for show. Some even suspected an elaborate, disgusting trick.
What was he supposed to do? Let people die?
The RV slowed to a crawl as Clark felt creeping doubts. He longed to talk to someone who could understand what he was going through. Someone who wasn't a dog. But he was questioning the wisdom of running back to his parents, tail between his legs.
He wasn't sure he could stand to hear his father say,: "I told you so."
Unfortunately, he'd be right about it, too.
If only Houdini were awake. He'd help him sort out his thoughts and make him feel better about himself. But the setter had drifted off to sleep a while ago. Occasionally he whimpered, probably dreaming. Clark hoped the dreams were more pleasant than his reality.
They’d been driving all day. The old RV groaned now and then, protesting against the unfamiliar exertion. For the past day and a half Clark had only stopped to refuel, get a large package of dog food, let Houdini relieve himself and ride out three major hiccups.
He only wanted to get away from it all.
As if his problems would suddenly vanish with the distance.
Murray Brown was probably busy placing ads in every paper he could get his hands on. How had things spiraled out of control so quickly? He'd meant to help these people, not wreak such havoc.
He'd become an illusionist to make people believe he was doing all these strange things on purpose. If anyone ever found out the truth about him… well, it was unthinkable.
Clark stifled a yawn as he passed the billboard welcoming him to the city of Smallville, Kansas. He slowed down, his heart hammering in his chest. His parent's farm was so close he could almost smell his mother's apple pie.
It had been quite a while since he'd last been there longer than a few minutes at a time. Between Houdini's fear of flying and his inability to control his powers he hadn't really dared to stay with them. He missed his parents so much.
His super hearing kicked in; it was his mother’s voice. “Oh, Jonathan, have you tried to call the Daily Planet and ask them to pass on a message to Clark?”
“Of course I did,” Jonathan grumbled. “But they haven’t seen him in a while. He’s working free-lance, remember?”
“This boy is going to be the death of me,” Martha whispered.
Clark could hear the slight hitch to her voice that gave away she’d been crying. Because of him. His gut twisted into a tight knot. At the very least, he should talk to them.
“He should get himself one of those new mobile phones,” she continued. “I can’t stand to wait until he calls again. He must be so distraught! I can’t believe they accused him of setting that fire.”
Clark heard Jonathan clear his throat. “Well, you’ve gotta admit that it looks suspicious.”
"Nonsense,” Martha said emphatically.
Clark felt a rush of gratitude for his Mom. His own tears threatened to spill. Behind him, Houdini whimpered, then growled in his sleep.
Clark threw a glance over his shoulder. “Wake up, boy. We’re almost there.”
Clark turned the final corner and saw the old sign that announced he was now on the Kent farm. As the old, cozy farmhouse came into view, Clark pulled to a stop and closed his eyes. The doubts were back. What was he doing here but putting his parents in danger? Though Houdini was here with him, there was never a guarantee that he wouldn’t accidentally hurt people around him. He hadn’t yet done what the press was accusing him of doing. but he just might do so eventually with his reckless behavior. It wasn’t like he could dig himself a hole on this farm to live out the remainder of his days. So what was he even doing here?
Houdini got to his feet and placed his head on Clark’s knee. He stroked the dog absentmindedly. Clark felt utterly torn. Part of him wanted nothing more than to feel his mother’s arms around him and lean into his father’s bear hug. But there was also this huge mass of jumbled emotions living inside his chest. He was so scared. Scared and incredibly lonely.
If only he’d maintained his life as a shadow, then he wouldn’t be in this mess now.
But six people would have died in the fire.
It had been the first time in years that he’d felt truly good about himself. Like he had a purpose in life. Like he could do something more meaningful than wait for the next hiccup.
The screen door of the farm house flung open and a small, blonde tornado stormed out. “Jonathan, it’s Clark! He’s here.”
Clark swallowed hard and glanced down at the dog whose head was still resting on his knee.
“Ready?” he asked.
Houdini barked emphatically. He jumped toward the door and got on his hind paws as if he wanted to open it himself. Clark shook his head with a pang of sadness. The dog was probably more ready than he’d ever be. He felt a huge lump in his throat as he followed Houdini and stepped out of the RV.
“Mom,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse.
She was in his arms, before he could protest or even voice a word of warning. Clark melted into her embrace and the tension of the past days seeped out of him. Tears slipped down his cheeks.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” he whispered.
“You chose exactly the right place,” she reassured him tenderly.
Clark heard the creaking of the screen door a second time and moments later his father was hugging him as well.
“They believe I started the fire,” Clark mumbled unhappily.
“It’s not important what they believe, son,” Jonathan replied. “We know it’s not true - you would never--”
“But that’s just it, Dad,” Clark ground out, sorrow-stricken. “It could have been me. They’re not so wrong to be scared of me. I was such a fool to believe I could live among people.” He took a step back and cast his eyes down. “You warned me that it would blow. I didn’t listen. It’s all right, you can say it. You told me so.”
Jonathan shook his head, a sad smile on his lips. “I did tell you so, but I was wrong. I’ve never been more proud of you, son. You saved these people and they’re not all scared of you. We’ll get through this.”
Clark’s throat felt so tight that he couldn’t reply. He tried to smile for the sake of the two people he loved so much. His mother placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a soft squeeze. Then she smiled down at the dog that was jumping around their legs.
“Come on, Houdini. I believe I have a bit of meat pie left for you somewhere.”
As Houdini followed Martha excitedly, Jonathan pulled Clark into another bear-hug, so intense that he felt almost unable to breathe. But then, he could hold his breath for a long time. Nothing had ever felt this good.
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