Thanks as always to Beth, Carol, and Mark - all of whom helped to make this chapter fit for other people to see.
For Lieta and any one else who watches the boards for me to post on Saturday
- I'm traveling for the next couple of weeks. While I'll actually be home both Saturdays, as I won't be home for the several days before, there is a small chance it will impact my posting schedule.
From Chapter 18“So, any information you can give us on what's going on here?” Clark asked Alice.
“Nothing all that exciting, Clark. Wayne used a lot of pesticides during the sixties and we're concerned about seepage into the local ground water. No big story, I'm afraid,” Alice smiled at them kindly.
Clark looked at her quizzically. “I didn't think Mr. Irig used any pesticides.”
“Not since you were born, but before that he did.”
“Can we speak to him?” Lois asked.
“Mr. Irig was given relocation money,” Alice told her. “He didn't say where he was going.”
“I'm sure you have that information somewhere,” Lois said, looking at the clipboard she was holding pointedly.
“I'm sure we do, but I don't have it,” Alice said, her voice a bit harder than it had been earlier.
“We'll check back later,” Lois said, grabbing Clark's arm and pulling him back towards the car.
Chapter 19“Do we need to?” Lois asked Clark, looking across the street at the grassy area.
“This is a small town, Lois. Here, the best way to find information is to ask the locals. Someone will know where he went,” Clark said, grinning at her. “Besides, it's the Corn Festival. It's fun, Lois. Really.”
Lois gave him a look of utter disbelief. “Whatever you say, Farmboy.” She smiled at him to take the sting out of her words, although she was unsure why she felt the need to do that.
The grin was off her face a moment later anyway when a petite brunette launched herself into Clark's arms. “Clark Kent!” the woman exclaimed, clearly happy to see him.
“Sheriff Harris!” he said with a teasing glint in his eye as he returned Rachel's hug, actually spinning her around a little bit. “I bet you can still two-step and tush push better than anyone in town, even with the badge,” he teased her as he placed her down.
“You bet I can,” Rachel smiled at him. “I'll show you tomorrow night.”
“You're on,” Clark said before turning to Lois. “Lois, this is Rachel Harris. Rachel, this is Lois Lane. Rachel and I went to high school together,” he explained to Lois.
“You two were close?” Lois asked, trying to tamp down the slight jealousy she felt at seeing Clark's arm still around Rachel.
“Clark took me to his senior prom,” Rachel said proudly. “So, do you work at the Daily Planet as well, Lois?”
“Does everyone here know where you work?” Lois asked Clark, incredulous.
“It's a small town,” Clark and Rachel said in unison just as Rachel's radio crackled to life. “Sorry, I've got to go, Clark,” Rachel said, leaning onto her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. “But I'll see you tomorrow, right? Nice to meet you, Lois.”
“Do you know how to two-step?” Clark asked Lois as Rachel walked away. Lois did not reply, suddenly awash in memory.
Lois felt a little guilty. She knew she was leaving Lucy home alone for the night, but… Chad was awfully cute. She was sixteen years old, she should be able to date, shouldn't she? Even if it meant her thirteen year old sister had to stay home alone with their alcoholic mother?
With a sigh, Lois knocked on the door to Lucy's room. “Hi,” she said softly as she opened the door.
Lucy looked up from the textbook she was studying. “Hi, Lo. What's up?” Lois smiled. Lucy was such an optimist, she was always smiling, as if she was unaware of what their family life was like.
Lois sat on the edge of Lucy's bed with a sigh. “Luce, I wanted to talk to you. I'm going out tonight.”
“On a date?” Lucy asked, her eyes lighting up. “With who? Is it with Peter? He's so cute, the way he follows you home and stuff.”
Lois smiled - trust her sister to get focused on the date and not on being home alone. “No, not Peter. I don't really like him. I think the way he follows me home is a bit creepy…”
“No, it's not,” Lucy cut in. “It's romantic.”
Lois grimaced. “Well, anyway, it's not with Peter, but it is a date. I'm going out with Chad. You know him, right? His little brother Ben was in your class last year.”
Lucy nodded, trying to remember. “Yeah, I remember Ben. He was cute, I guess. If you like the nerdy type. Is Chad nerdy, too?”
“Nerdy?” Lois asked, thinking she
was a bit nerdy.
“Does he wear glasses?”
“Yes. Does that mean he's nerdy?”
Lucy nodded vehemently in response. “So, where are you going?” she asked.
Lois shrugged her shoulders. “I'm not sure. He said something about a two-step lesson.”
“A two-step? Isn't that some kind of dance?” Lucy asked.
“Beats me,” Lois answered. “Earth to Lois,” Clark called. Lois smiled at him wanly. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself to think about Chad.
“So, do you want something to eat or drink?” Clark asked her.
Lois shook her head, ridding herself of the memory. “A drink would be good. Do you think I can get something diet here?” she asked Clark.
He laughed at her. “No, Lois. There are no artificial sweeteners allowed in Smallville. Most folks have never even heard of saccharine let alone aspartame and sucralose.”
Lois stared at him in amazement for a moment. “Really?”
Clark could not help the bark of laughter. “No, Lois. Not really. We'll get you diet lemonade, best you ever tasted, right over there,” he said, pointing to a stand a few yards away. “You just can't stand how normal it is here, can you?”
“Normal?” Lois asked, feeling stung at his joking at her expense. “I've heard about small towns, Clark. Take the woman over there,” she said pointing to the woman pouring lemonade. “I bet she's really a man. Although, wow!” she said, taking a closer look. “He could give pointers to some of the transvestites in Metropolis. He really looks like a woman.”
“That's because she is, Lois.” Clark said, laughing.
“Don't be so naïve, Clark.”
“That's my mother.”
“Oh.”
************************
Lois walked into the Kent's farmhouse, looking for something, anything, to compliment the Kent's on. To her horror, Martha Kent had heard her comment to Clark on being a transvestite. She took it in good humor, even affecting a deep voice for a time, but Lois was feeling a bit foolish.
To add insult to injury, Martha had been incredibly nice, and Clark was right – she did make the best diet lemonade Lois had ever tasted.
“I like the painting,” Lois said to Martha as she walked inside.
“Thanks! It's my latest,” Martha said. “I'm still grappling with abstract painting. That's supposed to be a couple walking down a country lane. It doesn't look like it, though, does it?”
Lois paused, and finally decided to be honest. “I thought it was a bowl of fruit.” To her relief, Martha laughed.
“Now, you're in Clark's room, Lois. Clark can sleep down here on the couch,” she said.
“Oh, thank you. You, too, Clark,” Lois said. “Oh,” she added as she remembered. “Any chance you have an internet connection?” Then realizing how presumptuous that was, she explained, “The internet is a network of computers with lots of information.”
Martha bit her lip. She had expected, based on Superman's descriptions of his wife and Clark's description of this woman, to like Lois, and she did, but that did not mean it was easy not to tease her. She was such a city girl. “I'm sorry,” she said in reply. “But what is a comp… It was a network of what?” She bit her lip harder when Lois rolled her eyes.
“A computer,” Lois said, suddenly remembering why she had not wanted to come here. “It's a machine that… oh, forget it.”
Clark broke before his mother did. “My mom has a laptop,” he told Lois with a laugh.
“And I'd be happy to show you how to connect to the wireless connection,” Martha added, finally giving in and laughing when Lois blushed. “Oh, honey,” she said, placing a hand on Lois' arm. “It's okay. You've never been to a farming town before. You didn't know.”
Somehow, that did not make Lois feel better.
************************
“I know why the feds are at the Irig's, Clark,” Jonathan told him as they moved towards the barn, Lois having gone upstairs with Martha. “Wayne Irig found a rock on his property last week. He sent a sample of it on to Wichita for analysis.
The preliminary report said it was some kind of meteorite. Wayne thought it might be worth money. He gave it to me for safekeeping after the government types started pushing him around.
“I figure since it was found a few miles from where we found you that it was probably related,” Jonathan continued as he opened the lead tool box.
Even before Clark could see what was inside, he saw the green glow emanating from the box and before he could get any closer, he felt waves of nausea roll over him. “Dad, I feel kind of… weird.”
“What's wrong, Clark?” Jonathan asked as he moved closer to Clark, the tool box still in his hands.
“I don't know,” Clark said, his voice fading to nearly a whisper, before he collapsed on the floor.
************************
“This is what he meant,” Clark said softly, after Lois had retired upstairs.
“What who meant, honey?” Martha asked.
“Superman. He said that he wanted to help me, but couldn't. I bet that green rock makes him sick, too.”
“It will get better, honey, I'm sure it will. And if not, you'll finally be normal,” Martha tried to steer Clark towards seeing the silver lining.
“It's not okay, Martha,” Jonathan said, also speaking quietly so Lois would not overhear, but the urgency in his words was unmistakable. “There's something out there that can hurt our son.”
“Yes,” Martha said, her voice purposely calm. “And now we know to keep it away from him.”
“But what if those government types figure it out? This could be it. The way they figure out how to dissect our boy.”
Martha sighed, “Look, I hope it doesn't come to this, but the truth is that if they make a connection between that rock and someone, why would it be Clark?”
“Who else would it be?” Clark asked, glumly.
“Superman,” Martha said quietly. “Think about it, Clark. The rock doesn't affect anyone else. And everyone thinks you're a normal human man. Why would anyone think it would affect you? Superman is the only person that is known to be different from the rest of us.”
“But why would a rock from Smallville effect Superman?” Clark asked. “I mean, if you don't know what we know about Superman.”
“No good reason,” Martha said. “And hopefully it will stay that way. Both because we don't want anything to happen to Superman and because I think the point of his being here is for you to be Superman one day and I don't want anyone to know it can hurt you.”
“But, Martha,” Jonathan started.
“Stop it. Both of you,” Martha said. “This is not going to go anywhere. If those people years ago did not know about anything that could hurt Clark, there's no reason why that should change now.”
Clark started to ask what she was talking about – what people from years ago, but some small voice in the back of his head knew what she was talking about. It was the memories, the ones he had been remembering more and more. He would not have another one while he sat here with his parents. He just would not.
************************
The call came that night, long after Martha had begun to worry. Jonathan did not appear by dinner time and a call over to the Irigs had cleared up the fact that he was not there. Where was he? It was not like him to disappear like this without explaining where he was going.
“Mrs. Kent?” came the voice on the other side of the line when she answered.
Clark could hear his mother's heart beat speed up as she answered, “Yes?”
“We would like to speak to your son,” the caller explained.
“May I ask what this is regarding?” Martha asked as she gripped the phone tightly.
“Just let us speak to Clark, please,” the voice on the other end, cold as ice, instructed.
Martha held the phone out to Clark with trembling hands. Something in her did not like this at all.
“Hello?” Clark said into the phone.
“Clark Kent,” the voice on the other end stated.
“What do you want?” Clark asked, the bravado of youth clear in his voice.
“Just to talk to you. Maybe take a few tests.”
“Tests of what?”
“Just understand your limits. We'd like to know where you come from, what your limitations are, how we can control what you can do.”
“What I can do?” Clark asked, confused.
“This is not a request, Mister Kent. We need to learn now before the rest of the invasion comes.”
“The invasion? What are you talking about?”
“The alien invasion,” came the voice on the other end, completely calm. “You are clearly the test case and we need to prepare.”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Clark said, hearing the anxiety in his voice. “But I'm not going to come to be tested.”
“Oh, we think you will,” came the reply, oddly confident. “We think we have something you want.”
“I need to go,” Clark said, feeling shivers run down his back at the tone of the man he was speaking to.
Then from the background of the phone, he heard a voice. “Don't do it, Clark. Whatever they say, don't do it.” It was his father.Once again, Clark woke up shaking.
“Clark,” Lois called from next to him. “Sorry, did I wake you?”
Clark found himself unable to speak.
“I just wanted to tell you that I checked my email and Jimmy sent us the list of EPA sites. Smallville's not on it,” Lois said, sitting on the coffee table by the couch where Clark was sleeping.
“Clark,” she said in alarm. “Are your allergies getting worse? You look awful!”
Clark shook his head. The memory had pushed nearly all other thought from his brain. He had managed to forget already that they had told Lois he was suffering from allergies.
“Clark? I'm going to get your mother,” she said as she moved towards the stairs.
“No,” he finally managed to croak out. “It was just another nightmare.”
“Are you sure?” Lois asked, coming back over to place a hand on his forehead. “You have a fever.”
“It's just the allergies,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “I'm fine, Lois. Really.”
“You're really sure?” she asked him.
“Yes,” he said. He waited until Lois left the room to let the tears start falling as the rest of the memory came to him in a rush.
It had been a relatively fast rescue. The men had not taken his father far and a quick scan of Kansas had showed him in a warehouse a few hundred miles away. Clark had flown in quickly, getting in the door without being seen.
The men holding his father were upstairs arguing. Clark heard them clearly when he entered, “How long do we hold him?” one asked the other.
“Just until the alien gets here.”
“What if he doesn't show?”
“Oh, he'll show. If not, we'll kill the old man. Wait a few days and then go for the mother. And if the alien doesn't show then, we've learned something, right? We will have learned that there is no reasoning with them. They won't even pretend to be humane.”
Clark did not want to hear anymore and blocked out the sound of their voices.
“Dad?” he whispered as he opened the door to the next room over, where his father lay.
There was no reply and Clark quickly walked over. From the air, he had only noticed his father on the bed in the corner before he swooped in. But standing next to him now, he could see the angry bruises on his arms and face and the leg lying at an awkward angle. A fast scan with his x-ray vision showed him that the bone was broken and the joint and ligaments surrounding it all swollen.
He bit his lip tightly to keep from crying. They had done this to his father because of him. They were only trying to get to him. If he had been more careful as his dad had suggested, this never would have happened. It was all his fault.
The smell of smoke brought him out of his thoughts. What was that? Clark turned around in confusion and in horror saw the couch in the room he had been in before on fire. Lying on the ground was a candlestick, the candle itself nearly melted. Clark looked at the ground. He had probably knocked it over on his way in.
He heard a cough behind him and remembered his father. He may be fine in this room although it was rapidly filling with smoke, but his father was not.
He moved closer and scooped his father up in his arms. He bent at the waist, trying to keep as much of his father covered as possible as he ran through the door and out of the warehouse. As soon as he was out of the door, he took to the skies and flew his father home.
It was only as they landed that Jonathan seemed to wake up. “Clark?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine, Dad,” Clark whispered as he came in the door. He looked up and caught sight of his mother. Her eyes were on his father and as she took in his leg, they grew wide.
“Jonathan,” she said and Clark could hear the tears in her voice as she came closer. “Are you all right?”
“I'm a bit sore,” he said in reply as Clark placed him on the couch, “but I'm okay. Those goons didn't know who they were dealing with,” he joked, but the smile on his face turned to a grimace as he tried to sit up and fell back with a thud.
Clark was distracted, though. The goons. He had forgotten about the men upstairs. Without a word, he flew out the backdoor, but by the time he got back to the warehouse, there was nothing much left. With a sweep of his eyes, Clark saw the form of two bodies lying on the stairs. They had apparently noticed the smoke too late to get out.
His parents seemed almost happy about it later, glad that who ever was after their boy was no longer a problem, but Clark was troubled. He had not meant to kill them. Maybe his parents were right and it was better this way, but still – how could he have been so careless?
For a few days after that, things around the farm were tense, but eventually his father's bruises healed, he stopped needing so much help from Wayne to run the farm, and life moved on.It had been so hard to think about for so long. Now that he remembered, he was surprised. It explained so much – Jason Trask from several months ago, for one. He must have been part of the same group. The fear at trying to fill in for Superman – he had not understood at the time why he was so worried about getting caught. Now, he understood. He had not realized that memories could be repressed that deeply, nor that if they were repressed they could still have such an effect on your psyche.
With a shudder he realized he was lucky that whoever Trask's predecessors had been had not had some of the green rock Wayne had found on his farm. If they had, who knows what may have happened to his father.
