Previously...
"But don't you want to make me happy?" she'd said, thrusting out her lower lip in a pout and twisting a lock of her hair around her finger.
"Your happiness?" he'd said, fighting back his laughter. "What about mine, Lana?"
"If you gave it a shot, you might find that you could be happy doing something where you'll actually make money!"
"Look, Lana, enough is enough. You've been pestering me about this since Christmas. It wasn't funny then, when I thought you were trying to joke around. It's downright obnoxious now."
"I was never joking about it," she'd said, crossing her arms before her chest. "If you want to make me happy, you'll drop this stupid idea of being a reporter and do something useful with your life."
Clark's fists had clenched and the muscle in his jaw had ticked. "That's it!" he'd finally said. "I've had enough, Lana! I'm sick and tired of you trying to manipulate me away from what makes me happy."
"I don't think you even know what makes you happy," she'd shot back. "You're completely lost. I mean, we've been dating, what, two years? and you still haven't made a move to try to get me into bed."
"What?" he'd sputtered. "Is that what this is about? The fact that I've tried to be a decent guy?"
"Don't pull that gentleman act on me, Clarkie. For God's sake, even the janitor has tried to get into my pants!"
"What do you want from me, Lana?" he'd asked, exasperated.
"I want you to give up on your stupid idea of being a reporter."
"No," he'd said, his voice grown hard and brooking no argument. "You know what, Lana? I'm done. No...we're done."
"Done? What do you mean, done?" she'd demanded to know.
"Done," he'd repeated, picking up his books and shoving them in his backpack. "I am not your punching bag or your boyfriend any longer."
"But, Clarkie, what about our future?" She'd done her best to sound like a wounded victim, but Clark wasn't having any of it.
"There is no future," he'd said firmly. "We're through. You'll go off to college and meet new people and study whatever it is that you want to. I'll go off to a different school and onto a different life."
"What about our wedding plans?"
"There never were any wedding plans!" he'd said, slinging the bag onto his back, working hard to control his anger. "Those only existed in your own head!"
"Don't you love me?" she'd tried, making puppy dog eyes at him.
"Goodbye, Lana," he'd said, ignoring the question and moving passed her and gaining the door.
To his eternal surprise, he was out of the house before he heard her attempting to follow and calling to him. By then, it was too late. Clark was far enough to pretend not to hear her. As soon as he could, he'd ducked out of sight behind the town library and took to the sky. He'd flown straight home, with as much speed as he'd dared, not wanting to break the sound barrier and cause talk in town.
Now, looking up at the stars, Clark felt free. He was still plagued by guilt at how things had ended between Lana and himself, but he was relieved that it was, in fact, over. He wondered too, if there was anyone out there in the world who would be a good match for him. Someone who would treat him right and not want to use him for what they thought he could do for them. Someone who he would feel comfortable enough with to trust with the secret part of his life - the things he never, ever allow anyone else to know.
Someone he could love and build a future with.
"There has to be someone," he whispered to himself. "And I'll find her."
***
"Clark!" Martha called as she weaved her way through the crowds of proud parents, siblings, and significant others.
"Over here, Mom," he called, waving to her.
She reached his side and hugged him tightly. "Oh, honey, your dad and I are so proud of you!"
"Thanks, Mom," he said, blushing a little.
He swiped the dangling tassel of his black graduation cap and gown away and out of his eyes. In one hand, he clutched the rolled up, faux diploma which took the place of the real one which would be mailed to his home, once the college had a chance to print them all off after double checking that each graduate had met their requirements.
"Magna Cum Laude," Jonathan said, finally maneuvering his way to where his wife and son stood, amid the swirling sea of people. He shook his head. "I'm so proud, son. Not that I ever doubted you. And that was some valedictorian speech." He gave Clark a proud smile and clasped him on the shoulder.
"Thanks, Dad. You really liked it?"
"I did," he confirmed with a nod.
Clark smiled. The truth was, he'd spent weeks trying to figure out what to say in his speech. There was so much he wanted to say, but he knew that his best bet was to keep it short, sweet, and as relatable as possible to as much of his audience as he could. So, for weeks, he'd scribbled notes, ideas, and little sayings on a pad of paper that he kept constantly in his backpack, hoping for the proper inspiration. By the time he'd decided on exactly what he'd wanted to say, he'd only had a week left to write it up, edit it, and practice it before his dorm room mirror.
In the end though, he'd been happy with it. He'd only hoped that everyone else had enjoyed his speech.
"Why don't we get out of here?" Martha suggested as the crowds began to thin.
"Good idea," Clark said. "If we want to get dinner, we'd better get going soon anyway. There aren't too many places to eat around here, so they are going to get packed, fast."
Of course, he could always fly them all someplace for their dinner. Italy, or France, if they wanted. But Clark didn't want to. It was his last chance to soak up the atmosphere associated with college life. He wanted to hear the rowdy clusters of students and family all out celebrating their graduation. He wanted to see the groups of friends laughing together for the last time before they were forced out into the real world.
The real world.
Clark sighed. He'd be looking for a job within a few days, once he and his parents packed up the car and drove back home to Smallville. Again, he could have flown some of his things home in the small hours of the night, but that felt somehow like he was cheating himself of his last true college experience - like he'd be neglecting to close the final chapter of this stage of his life.
He looked forward to getting out into the world, and for the opportunity to finally pursue his dreams. He imagined that he would find a job with a well-respected and world renowned newspaper. He dreamed about finding leads nobody else could find. He looked forward, even, to stakeouts, if it meant cracking a case no one else could. He envisioned crime lords locked away, dirty politicians exposed, and drug rings busted because of his efforts. He was meant for that life, he knew it, deep down in his bones.
Still, the idea of leaving the comfort of college was still somewhat daunting. All his life, he'd been a student. He'd had a strict regiment of classes, homework - sometimes achieved with a little help from his incredible speed - and football practice and games, not to mention the school newspaper and his duties as a resident assistant in his dorm building. Now, faced with shaking up his entire life, he had to admit he was a little scared. Once again, he was going to have to leave home. He didn't want to work for a small time paper, like they had in Smallville. He knew he was going to have to live in a major city, if not a completely different country.
It would be an exciting adventure, but it also slightly terrified Clark.
He wondered about where he might live. New York? Los Angeles? Chicago? Who might he meet? Was there someone out there, waiting to meet him? Though Clark had gone on the occasional date during his years in college, none of the women had been right for him. Something was always "off" about them. Who had been polite enough in classes, but who'd shown a mean side when out of the public eye. Who had only been using him as a meal ticket, when they'd had a boyfriend in a different university. Who had wanted to date him only because of his academic prowess, expecting him to do their advanced calculus work for them. And one young woman who had been gorgeous, but who'd had absolutely nothing in common with Clark. The final straw had come when she'd told him that she had no interest in reading, at all.
Clark could only hope that, wherever fate led him, he would find the woman of his dreams. Tall or short, thin or heavy, he didn't care. All that really mattered was who she would be on the inside. Her mind. Her heart. Her personality. He hoped too, that he would recognize her when he found her. So far, his track record wasn't so great. Though he had tried to patch things up with Lana so they could be friends again, she had refused to speak with him. The last he had heard of her, she was dating an older guy, already out of college and who was in medical school to become a neurosurgeon. Clark had no ill will toward her, and wished her the best, but was, all the same, infinitely relieved that he was no longer the object of her affections.
"So," Martha said, as they finally were seated at the most popular Italian restaurant in town. "Have you thought about where you might apply for a job?"
Clark nodded. "I have. I've sent out a bunch of resumes in the last couple of months, but so far I haven't gotten any bites."
"Did anyone say why they've...?" She paused, looking for the right words, perhaps.
"Why they've rejected me?" Clark asked with a grin. "No. It's been mainly just form letters. You know. 'Thanks for applying but we have no openings at this time' kind of responses."
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. Why didn't you say anything before?"
Clark shrugged. "It didn't seem like that big of a deal. I'll find something. I guess, maybe I set my sights a little too high, sending to the New York Times and the like. Maybe I should lower my standards, but I can't shake this...I don't know...hesitation to get stuck at some small paper. Yeah, the experience would be good, but I can't help but to feel like it won't make that much difference, in the long run, when I reapply to those other, bigger papers."
"So..." Jonathan hedged, trying, it seemed, to figure out where Clark would go from there.
"So...I guess, for now, I go home and keep applying to places. One of the nice things is, I can fly out for interviews on a moment's notice, if need be." He lowered his voice and grinned.
That made his parents laugh. "True," Jonathan said, still chuckling.
"Well, we're glad to have you home, for as long as you want to stay," Martha put in as the waiter came and set glasses of ice water down before them.
"Thanks," Clark said. "It'll be good to be home again, even if for a bit."
That was the truth. He'd missed the familiar comfort of the tidy farmhouse where he'd grown up. He'd flown home whenever he could, to see his parents and eat a home cooked meal. But spending a few sporadic hours here and there hadn't been the same as really being home. He was ever conscious of how long he'd been gone, where he might have to land in order not to be seen, the questions his roommates might ask about where he'd been - especially if he missed having dinner with them or showed up late for a movie night. He hated lying to them - it was against how he'd been raised. So instead, he gave them vague answers that seemed to satisfy them enough to keep them from prying deeper.
Home.
He hadn't realized before now how much he'd missed the place, now that he was hours away from moving out of his dorm room and heading back to the farmlands of his youth. He missed the scent of the freshly tilled earth, the smell of rain on the crops, the way the summer sun seemed to bathe everything in a golden glow. He missed swimming in the quarry with his childhood friends, climbing up to the roof of the house to study the stars, how everyone in town knew each other and always warmly greeted each other.
And yet, even without moving back, he was deeply aware that he'd outgrown the place. Smallville was a wonderful place. But it was too small and he had grown too large for it. It wasn't his powers that had set him apart from everyone else there. It was more of a deep, personal need to explore the world. A longing, as he thought of it, to find the place where he was most needed, could do the most good with his investigative abilities. And despite his love of and for Smallville, that wasn't the place where he needed to be.
***
Clark tore open the envelope and scanned the words on the paper, his heart sinking. Of course it was another rejection letter. If it the paper had wanted him to come and interview with him, they would have called. Clark sighed.
"Batting a thousand," he muttered to himself as he crumpled the impersonal form letter into a tight ball. With a careful burst of his heat vision, he incinerated the thing and watched the ashes waft slowly down to the floor. "What am I doing wrong?" he wondered aloud.
Pounce, one of the cats who helped keep the Kents' barn mouse-free, yawned and stretched his body to soak up the patch of warm sunlight that came in through the open doors. Clark knelt and scratched the tabby behind his gray ears, eliciting an immediate purr. It made Clark smile a little. But only a little.
The summer had come and was now nearly gone again. And still he had yet to receive a job offer. Or an interview, for that matter. He sighed and kicked at a piece of stray straw. He'd really thought that he'd have a full time job by now. Maybe it was time to lower his sights. Maybe it was time to start applying to smaller, less well known papers. He knew the Smallville Post was always open to freelancers. He could start there, make connections if he could, and continue to keep his eyes and ears open for work at other papers.
"I guess I'll talk to Greg on Monday," he said to himself or to the cat, he wasn't quite sure.
But saying the words aloud made it seem more real, somehow. He need that, at the moment, even if the cat was his only witness. Jonathan and Martha had gone into town for the afternoon to celebrate their anniversary. Clark had respectfully bowed out of their invitation to join them, wanting to give them some private time together. He wasn't much in the mood for celebrating either, not with the recent string of rejection letters he'd gotten. They had been a blow to his normally optimistic ego.
"Yeah," he continued quietly, standing up from petting the now sleeping cat. "Monday."
***
"Last one in is a rotten egg!"
With a tremendous splash, the group of boys all ran toward the edge of the rock. One by one, they each did a cannonball into the cold water of the old quarry's lake. The once serene surface of the water erupted and boiled as each body churned it up as the boys jumped in and began to splash around.
"So much for a quiet day at the old swimming hole," Tommy said as Clark and his friends approached the water's edge.
Clark shrugged. "I'm not turning back."
"Me neither," Tommy said, though his voice had lost a lot of the enthusiasm it had held when he'd called Clark to say that everyone was going swimming. "It's the hottest day of the summer. I think we all need a swim."
"Can we go all the way over to the far side?" Keith asked. "Away from the cannonballs?"
"I agree with Keith," Josh said.
"I don't have a problem with that," Clark said, shrugging.
Together, they all trudged to the far side of the lake, then carefully arranged everything they'd brought with them - folding chairs, coolers, and whatever personal items they'd each brought. Clark opened up the battered, but sturdy, old chaise lounge chair he'd brought, then stripped out of his shirt and stuffed it into the small duffel bag he'd taken with him. He sat and wiggled out of the sandals he was wearing, then pulled out his towel from the bag and draped it over the back of the lounge chair.
"This is great," he finally said, smiling and taking everything in. "Getting the old group back together, coming back down to the quarry. When was the last time we did this? The summer after high school?"
"Yeah," Keith confirmed. "The weekend before you headed off to college."
"That's right," Clark said, nodding in remembrance. "I had to go a little earlier to start with the football stuff."
"Now look at us," Josh said, gesturing widely. "Out of college and moving on with our lives."
"Yeah," Clark said, nodding, though his heart sank.
He'd managed to sell a few freelance articles to the Smallville Post, but his plans to make connections wasn't moving fast enough for his taste. Of course, he'd only been working with them for three whole weeks, but considering his extraordinary speed, it seemed like forever since he'd first joined the paper. He was restless, plain and simple. He felt like he was stuck in place, waiting for his life to start while he watched everyone else's lives take off. Josh, for example, was headed to medical school to become a pediatrician. Tommy was in the midst of studying for the LSATs. Keith had recently gotten engaged to Chelsea, whom he'd been dating since their freshman year of high school. Even Rachel was planning on following her father's footsteps and was in training to become part of the local police department.
"What's the matter, Clark?" Rachel asked, picking up on his subtle sigh.
"Nothing," he said, unwilling to get into things.
He liked Rachel a great deal, but as a friend only, whereas he knew that she had been lusting after him since their elementary school days. But even with their long history together, Clark had never been comfortable showing any sort of vulnerability in front of her. He never had, not with any of his friends, not with any of his girlfriends. It wasn't a macho thing, born out of the knowledge that he was the strongest man on the planet. It was a very deep and personal thing, born out of mostly fear, he knew. He was simply too afraid to let anyone get to know the real him - his unique abilities, his alien heritage.
"Clark..." she pressed.
"Really, it's nothing," he said, a bit more forcefully. "Just lost in my own thoughts, okay?"
"Help!"
The scream pierced Clark's mind like a lance. With his super hearing, it was louder than it should have been, though the echo off the surrounding rocks hurt his ears. Without a conscious thought to do so, he whipped his head around to appraise the situation. He knew, from the desperate tone, that the cry for help hadn't been one of the kids fooling around. Something really was wrong. Telescoping in on the opposite side of the lake, he could see some of the kids waving their arms above their heads, trying to get someone's attention.
"Help!" came the call again. "Please, somebody help us!"
Without even stopping to take off his glasses, Clark launched himself into the water. Using all of his strength, he began swimming. Stroke after powerful stroke brought him ever closer to the group of screaming kids, but he felt like he was going too slowly. Every second seemed too precious, and the distance wasn't closing fast enough. Breaking a personal rule he'd had to never use his abilities in public, he allowed himself to employ a burst of his super speed. In seconds, he'd covered the rest of the distance.
"What happened?" he asked as he reached the side of the boy who'd been pleading for help.
"Robby," he said, by way of explanation.
"What?" Clark prodded. "What about Robby?"
"I didn't mean it. Honest."
"What happened?" Clark asked again, lightly gripping the boy's shoulders while he treaded water.
"We were pushing each other around for fun. I accidentally pushed him too hard. He fell off the rocks, but I think he hit his head. He went under and didn't come up. We've tried to get him, but it's too deep."
"Go," Clark commanded him. "Up to the old guardhouse. There's a payphone there. Call an ambulance."
He didn't wait for a response. He took a deep breath and dived down. He frantically began swimming toward the rocky bottom of the quarry's lake. It was true that he could hold his breath for a good twenty minutes, but he knew Robby wasn't that lucky. Every second counted, and too many had already passed. As soon as Clark was beneath the water's surface, he once again loosened the restraint he held on his speed and shot to the bottom of the lake.
He began scanning, and was thankful for his better than average ability to see in dark places. The lakebed was deep and housed in shadows. But Clark was finally able to see the boy in question. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks, grateful he'd given that section of the bottom a second check. He'd nearly missed the unmoving body, dressed all in dark blues as he was.
Clark made a beeline for the boy and easily lifted his body. Robby was limp and unresponsive in his arms. Clark tucked him under one arm, then, with a swift push from his feet, used the uneven lakebed to propel himself upwards. Up, up, up he went, now flying through the water, rather than swimming. It was easier, with his one arm full and his dense molecular structure, which wanted to pull him down to the bottom and keep him there.
Seconds passed, each one like a physical weight on Clark's shoulders. And, while he tried to will himself not to panic, to know that he had everything under control, he was nervous. More than nervous, if he were to be perfectly honest. Robby had been underwater a long time. But, at last, Clark's head broke the water's surface. He gasped for breath, more to maintain his facade of normalcy than for need, and began to half swim, half drag Robby to the shoreline, which, thankfully, was not all that far away.
"Come on," he murmured to the unconscious boy in his arms as he finally reached the water's edge.
Here he was able to stand and reach the bottom. He gathered Robby in both of his arms and walked him to the shore. He carefully laid Robby down on the hot gray stone and checked for signs of life. There was a weak pulse, but no signs of breathing. Clark shifted his position as he knelt on the ground and began to administer CPR.
"Come on. Come on," he repeated as he cycled through chest compressions and attempts to blow air into the twelve-year-old's lungs. "Come on, breathe for me."
After a small eternity, Robby stirred, tried to gasp, and vomited up water. Clark helped him to pull himself into a sitting position, and held the boy as he finally did suck in a shaking breath. Relief washed over Clark. He could feel the tension slipping from his body with every cough and shuddering breath Robby took. He patted the boy's back lightly.
"It's okay," Clark said, as Robby continued to choke and gasp for enough air. "Take it easy. You're okay."
"What happened?" Keith asked as Clark's friends raced over to wear he sat on the ground with Robby.
"He hit his head and sank to the bottom," Clark said distractedly, as he watched the boy spit up more water.
"That must have been some adrenaline rush," Josh put in.
"What?" Clark asked, a little confused.
"You dove in and swam the distance in a minute, maybe less. And then, when you went under," he shook his head before continuing, "if you got all the way to the bottom, then you must have been swimming for your life. I don't think you were under for more than two minutes."
Great, Clark lamented. Way to blow your cover, stupid.
"Yeah, I guess it was," he said instead, shrugging off the apparently fantastic speed the rescue had taken place with. "I wasn't really paying attention. I'm just glad he's safe." He nodded in Robby's direction.
In the distance, he heard the wail of a siren growing closer. Apparently he hadn't been the only one to move quickly. The other kids had made record time in making it to the guardhouse to call for help, it seemed. At least, he hoped that the siren he'd heard was for them. After ten more minutes, the ambulance came bouncing down the gravel roadway. As soon as it came to a crunching stop, the rear doors burst open and two paramedics jumped out. They hit the ground running, making it to Robby's side in less than a minute.
Clark stepped back, letting the professionals take over. Robby still wasn't talking, so his friends filled in as much information as they could while the paramedics started to assess the boy. Clark added what little he knew as well, starting from hearing a change in the kids' screams all the way up to getting Robby to finally take a breath. After Robby was stabilized and the ambulance on its way to the hospital, Clark and his friends went back to their own little area where their belongings still sat.
"I think I'm going to head home," Clark said, picking up his shirt and pulling it over his slowly drying body.
"How come?" Rachel asked.
"I, uh...this whole thing...I'm a little shaken, that's all. I mean, someone almost died here today. I'm not exactly in the mood to stay around," he deflected.
In truth, his unease ran deeper than that. Josh might try to explain away Clark's enhanced speed as an adrenaline rush, but Clark knew his friends. They would discuss the rescue, asking him questions, and somewhere along the way, something wouldn't make sense to them. And Clark could not afford any suspicions to be placed on him. Not when he'd spent most of his life worried that someone would discover that there was more to him than met the eye, and that it would result in him being captured and dissected like a frog. Although, he had to admit, now that he was grown and knew his strength and speed, he doubted that anything or anyone could hold him against his will. But it was definitely not something he wanted to test either.
"I'm sorry, guys," he apologized to them all.
"Hey, no problem," Keith said. "You need a ride?"
Clark shook his head, sending water droplets in every direction. "Thanks, but no. You guys should enjoy yourselves. Besides, I think a nice long walk might be just what I need."
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely. I'll catch up with you guys some other time. Okay?"
"All right, man."
Clark quickly repacked his things and set off down the road, out of the quarry. He could feel the tension in his body rising, the more he thought about the events of the afternoon. In fact, he could feel his hands beginning to shake, but it was just too difficult to stop thinking about what had happened. He took several deep, cleansing breaths as he walked, attempting to funnel out his nervousness with every exhalation. Before long, he found that he'd subconsciously quickened his pace as he headed home, until he was running, then running at super speed.
The speed was freeing, even though the fear of discovery was still fresh in his mind. It simply felt good to be himself, now that he was completely alone out in the fields of his childhood. He only stopped when he reached home.
"Back so soon?" Jonathan asked, barely looking up for the day's paper as he sipped a glass of cold lemonade.
"I'm afraid so," Clark said, leaning his chair against the weathered farmhouse once he'd ascended the porch steps.
Jonathan put the paper down, a concerned expression on his face.
"What is it, son?"
Clark sat in one of the wicker chairs, looking across at his parents.
"Something..." he paused and swallowed hard. "Something happened."
"What?" Martha asked.
"Down at the quarry. Some boys were swimming at the far end of the lake from where we were. One of them fell in and drowned."
"Oh no," Martha said, her face falling in grief.
"Nothing like that, Mom," Clark said, folding his hands on his lap and looking down. "I swam over and saved him."
Haltingly, he told them the whole story, starting with his arrival at the quarry with his friends and ending with finding himself speeding home at top velocity. Throughout the telling, he kept his head bowed, ashamed of how careless he'd been with using his powers. He couldn't meet their eyes. After all they had sacrificed for him, had done to help train him to keep his powers under control and out of the public eye, he'd failed them. In one miserable moment, he'd blown his cover and potentially put them all in danger.
"I'm sorry," he said at the end of his tale. "I know I messed up."
"Messed up?" Martha asked, incredulous.
"Son, we've never been prouder of you," Jonathan jumped in.
"Proud? But...I slipped up. Used my abilities and raised some eyebrows. What if...what if word gets out? And you know it will. It's a small town. I can't just fade into the background and watch as the mysterious rescuer is never found. There are too many witnesses. Everyone knows it was me."
"Well, like your friend said, it can easily be chalked up to an adrenaline rush," Martha said. "Like when a mother lifts a car to save her baby."
"I wish I could believe that."
"Trust me," Martha said. "The important thing is, you saved that kid's life. And that's what everyone will be talking about. Not how fast you swam over, or how deep you had to dive to get him."
"I hope so," he said, though he knew his words couldn't conceal his skepticism.
"The important thing is, how do you feel about all this?" Jonathan asked.
"Scared," Clark admitted. "I mean, my whole life, I've been hiding what I can do. Now, I might have blown everything."
"And?" Jonathan prodded, sensing, perhaps, that there was more to Clark's feelings.
"And...elated," he finally confessed. "I never thought these powers would be good for anything, except for personal use...like when I used to fly home for dinner sometimes while I was away at school. But using them today for the benefit of someone else? It was the greatest feeling in the world. Maybe you guys were right. Maybe I really do have these abilities for a reason. Oh, I'm not saying that I want to parade around as Clark Kent, super weirdo, but I just can't help feeling like I was meant to be there today, to save that kid."
Jonathan and Martha smiled as Clark talked, seeing his face widen out into a smile as he talked. He couldn't help it. Despite his lingering terror of being discovered for what he really was, his heart was swollen with pride and happiness. He'd used his powers for good. Robbie was alive because of him. His powers, and the split-second decision to employ them, had made the difference between life and death.
He knew he could never risk doing that again. But for the moment, he basked in the knowledge that his strange, sometimes frightening, powers had managed to accomplish some good in the world.
To Be Continued...
