Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic On the Long Way Down (5/65)

Chapter 5:

"Clark?" a sleep-addled, almost smoky voice called out to him. "Clark, wake up! Clark!"

Finally his eyes shot open, instantly concerned that he might have done something in his sleep. Checking to make sure he was oriented correctly— still on the mattress and under the covers— he breathed a sigh of relief and ran a hand across the perspiration that gathered at his hairline. Trying to bring his racing heart back under control, he spoke softly. "Wha- What happened? What is it?"

"You were screaming in your sleep."

He closed his eyes lightly, pushing away the last vestiges of his nightmare. Of course he was screaming. Trouble was, the reality was equally as frightening.

"You were calling out for your dad?" The blonde woman questioned cautiously, digging slightly for more information as her fingertips traced a path up and down his bare chest.

A muscle in the side of his jaw twitched. "Toni," his voice was low with warning.

"I'm not saying anything," Toni Taylor defended herself. "I just think, if you had a bad dream, maybe you'd like to talk about it."

Clark couldn't repress another sigh. "Just drop it, okay?"

She acquiesced for a few moments, continuing her stroking pattern on his chest before broaching the subject once more. "What happened to your father? In your dream?"

With a groan, he rolled out of her bed and started pulling on his clothes.

"Hey, wait! Clark, what are you doing? Don't go."

He grimaced. "Look, Toni, you're a nice girl and all. Beautiful, too. And tonight... well, it was pretty great. But let's be honest with each other, I'm not here looking for a psychologist, okay? So when I say drop it, it gets dropped. Got it?"

"I'm sorry, I just was trying to help—"

"Help? Ha! Johnny's right about you. Too damn smart for your own good. A really smart person would've listened to me the first time I asked. How'd you get these ideas into your head, anyway?"

Highly insulted, Toni shrank back into herself and pulled the sheets up higher over her chest in a defensive maneuver. "I didn't mean to offend you, Mr. Kent. I'm sorry."

Clark paused for a moment, facing away from her all ready to go, and released a long sigh. He turned back and sat on the edge of the bed. "I know. You didn't offend me. It's just..." There was no plausible, no honest explanation he could give other than that his dream hit too close to home. So, he lied. "I've got a business meeting in the morning that's of utmost importance. I shouldn't have stayed over anyways."

Toni opened her mouth, probably to comment on the fact that it was only three in the morning, but Clark silenced her with a hard, fast kiss to her lips. Satisfied that she was distracted for a moment, he made his move. "Tell Johnny that he can just focus on running that club of mine, I'll worry about the threats from these so-called Toasters."

He turned to walk out of her apartment. He was almost to the door when she finally spoke again. "Will you stop by and see me again? Maybe tomorrow night?"

Her question was met with a resounding thud as the door slammed behind him.

*****LnC*****

Clark opted to walk down the street to clear his head instead of calling for a car— or worse, a taxi— to come and pick him up. He didn't know why he'd even stayed at her apartment in the first place, but it didn't matter now. His position with the Metro Club was secured once more, it was all business as usual.

This Toasters business could be a slight wrinkle, of course. When Johnny Taylor had first approached him about the threats the bar was getting, at first he was wary. It sounded almost fake. He'd known the Taylors for a few years now, and the only thing they valued more than loyalty was the skin of their own necks. He wouldn't be surprised if they turned on him.

Fortunately, as long as Toni had a soft spot for tall, dark and handsome, he had complete control over their business endeavors. Johnny could talk a big talk, but he knew the man would never do anything against him if there was a risk of harming his sister. And Clark had acquired those blackmail pictures a long time ago. Now it was just fun.

His mind turned back to the events that had led him here, the nightmare that prompted his early exodus from the bed of a beautiful woman. He shuddered slightly as he walked a bit faster along the sidewalk. Sadly, the reality was equally, if not more dreadful than the visions that plagued his sleep.

A small stab of pain hit him as he couldn't keep his mind from wandering back to that fateful evening that had started it all.

*****LnC*****

Smallville, 1975

It was a few days after the garden incident when Clark found himself in much of the same position. This time, he was fixing the garden, goofing around with his recently discovered freeze breath and creating icicles hanging off the plants and roof of the barn for the fun of it.

Then he felt the eyes of the man on him again. This time, though, the man didn't hang back or disappear. Clark's heart thudded heavily in his chest as he turned his back on him and pretended to be very interested in the gardening work once more. The man was coming closer. That meant it wasn't in his head, it wasn't just a figment of his imagination, and he should have told his parents about it the first time he'd sensed someone watching.

Clark was hesitant when the man first approached. He didn't sound like he was from Kansas, and he definitely didn't recognize him from around town. He was a youngish man, younger than his parents for sure, but as usual that was all he could figure of the man's age. To Clark, like most kids his age, an adult was an adult was an adult.

"Nice work there, son."

Clark looked over his shoulder briefly before looking down at his work on the garden shyly. The man had come closer. Clark didn't like that. "Thanks, Mister—"

"Just call me Jason. What's your name?"

"Clark," he responded warily, but not wanting to be deceitful.

"Well, it's certainly nice to meet you, Clark. What sort of plants you got here?"

Clark was slightly suspicious, but answered the man in military fatigues anyways. At school, teachers were always telling them to trust people in uniform. Perhaps there wasn't anything to be worried about after all. He seemed nice enough. Then again, his father's warnings thundered through his brain, telling him not to trust anyone, no matter how likable. "Usual stuff. Tomatoes. Carrots. Some herbs."

Jason smiled. "You seem like a good boy. When I was your age, I don't think I would ever spend any time in the garden."

Clark shrugged and turned back to the dirt before him. "I'm used to it."

"You probably lived your whole life on this farm, haven’t you?"

Clark thought that was an odd question, surely it was obvious, but he nodded anyway.

"How old are you, son?"

"Nine and a quarter," he stated proudly, chest puffed out with pride as children often did.

"Wow, nine and a quarter already. Been a long time then. You must've just been born last time I was out here."

Clark's curiosity got the better of him. "Did you used to live here?"

Jason shook his head, a grin on his face. "Nope. I came out here with a military unit to examine a strange asteroid landing in 1966. Of course, you probably were barely alive then."

An uneasy feeling settled in Clark's gut and he hoped it didn't show on his face. His parents had never made it a secret that he wasn't theirs— that he had landed in some sort of meteor crash and came to them like a miracle. This man, knowing so much about that very incident, could not be good news for him and his family.

"You ever hear anything about that? Maybe from your parents or around town?"

Clark shook his head fiercely, uneasy now. "No. What's a-an asteroid?"

The army man looked at him in a way that made Clark's stomach churn. After what felt like about twenty minutes of him just staring at him, but in reality had to have been only a few long seconds, Jason gave a tight-lipped smile once again. "Hey, so I was hoping to talk to somebody a bit taller. Are your parents around?"

Clark felt a shiver run up his spine. He didn't know how to answer that. He didn't want the strange man to think he was all alone out here. Despite all of the things he was learning to do, he wasn't sure his abilities would behave the same in more frightening circumstances. He swallowed. "They're always around."

Jason nodded. "Okay. Well, maybe you could take me to them? I don't want to get lost in all this farmland."

Another chill. Somehow Clark felt this man wouldn't get lost at all. Alarm bells were ringing in his head. All of those lessons in school about stranger danger were flashing through his mind, but none of the lines were matching up with what this stranger was saying. Maybe he was just being paranoid. Maybe it was just everything his father had ever told him that was scaring him so much.

His dad. He would know what to do. His dad always knew everything.

"Okay," he said suddenly, smiling up at the man. Jason returned the smile somewhat forced. "They're probably up at the farmhouse. Come on."

They weaved their way in and out of the fields of corn and wheat, Clark taking a confusing route simply to irritate the man. He hoped against hope that Jason didn't notice any of the little irregularities around, such as the deep holes and gashes in the ground from his speed and strength, or the icicles growing in the middle of August. He tried to take him through sections that had no such things, but there was no guarantee.

Finally, they reached the house and Clark breathed a sigh of relief. "Ma! Dad! We have company!"

Martha came out of the kitchen first, wearing an apron and a smile. The smile quickly dropped, and Clark felt his stomach turn on seeing the worry on her face. She pasted on a very fake looking smile and dried her hands on her apron. “Clarkie, I assumed you meant Lana or Pete. You have to tell me if it’s new company.”

“Sorry, Ma.”

She recovered quickly, though, and forced a smile at the man accompanying him. "Hi there. I'm Martha." She did not extend a hand in greeting, rather turning to shout to his dad upstairs, unable to keep a certain note of panic out of her voice. "Jonathan! There's a young man here to see us!"

Jonathan Kent ambled down the stairs slowly, carefully, and cast a concerned glance at his mother. Clark tried to keep his nerves from showing, because his dad would handle it. His dad was the smartest person he knew. But the apprehensive look on his father’s face wasn’t helping soothe his fears.

Jonathan froze when he locked eyes on the man behind him. He brushed his hands off on his pants and approached slowly with an outstretched hand. "Hello. I'm Jonathan."

Jason looked at it witheringly and did not take it. "Yes, I am well aware of who you are, Mr. Kent."

Clark’s heart pounded. He knew who he was? Jason didn’t say he knew his parents. Jonathan withdrew his proffered hand and folded his arms over his chest. "So you do. What can I do you for?"

"My name is Sergeant Jason Trask. I believe you remember when a few of my compatriots and I came by last time, about nine years ago. We were asking you about that meteor shower that happened."

Clark looked between Jason and his father, scrutinizing them. Neither had ever mentioned this moment to him.

"Yes, I do remember that. I also remember hearing something about that organization disbanding about six years ago?"

"Project Blue Book did, yes, but we're under new jurisdiction now, got a new name. Now Bureau 39 handles everything related to exobiology, xenoarchaeology and all things of extraterrestrial origin."

Clark swallowed and looked at his dad, who had paled at Jason's speech. He didn't know what all of those big words meant, except the last one and if he knew anything at all, he knew that he meant him.

Jonathan shifted his weight nervously but did not lower his gaze. "Well that's all fine and dandy, but I still don't see what any of this has to do with us."

Trask simply smiled, turning and putting his hands on Clark's shoulders. Clark squirmed and pulled against him, but the army man's grip remained firm. "You know, you have a remarkable young boy here."

His voice was like the hiss of a snake. Clark snapped wild, frightened eyes up to his father's and was met with a barely restrained rage radiating towards the man holding him in a grip. He had never seen his father look so angry before. That scared him more than anything. If he had remained calm, reassuring, then maybe Clark would feel more comfortable, know that his dad would take care of it and all was well. He didn't know what to make of this.

"Get. Your hands. Off. My. Son."

Jonathan's voice was hard as steel. Jason laughed, but didn't release his hold. "Relax, Mr. Kent. You're son's just fine. We were just having a little chat out in your garden a few minutes ago, weren't we Clark?"

Clark tried his best to keep from whimpering, but he was quite afraid. He looked frantically between his parent's worried and outraged expressions, hoping one of them could help him, would help him. He didn't like this man any longer— Jason, who had been so nice if not a little bit odd a few minutes ago was now menacing, threatening. It almost made Clark sick. He should have ran, told his father right away. He should have believed him— no one was to be trusted implicitly, no one was to be let in so easily.

Clark was well aware that, given his speed and other gifts, he could easily overpower this man. That wasn't the fear.

The fear was of discovery. And as long as his parents remained in control of the situation, as long as they wanted him to stand down, he would. Even if it did frighten him beyond belief.

Trask knelt down to Clark's level. "He seems to have quite a few talents. Could be useful to our cause, you know. We've been looking for this one for years now. We have his ship even— found it a couple of months ago. We know he came here as a baby. We know he's not yours," there was that hiss sound again, making Clark's spine shiver. "And we need to know what his purpose is here."

Jonathan clenched his fists so tight that Clark could almost feel the nail marks digging in himself. "I swear to God, Trask, let the boy go before I make you."

He snorted. "I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice in the matter." Before anyone was aware of what exactly had happened, Trask pulled out his service weapon and aimed it at Jonathan. Martha gasped and tears were streaming down her face.

"Please," she begged. "Don't hurt my boy."

"I'm hoping I won't have to," Jason stated calmly, clearly unaffected by her display of emotion. "Besides, I know all about his abilities. We've been monitoring him for some time now. I know that a simple weapon," he waved the gun through the air, "won't have any impact on him."

A cold chill ran down Clark's spine. They'd been watching him for some time? What's some time? What did they know about him? He fought the rising tide of panic and bit his lip trying to keep it from trembling.

"Oh! Don't get me wrong. There is one thing, though, that we think can do something..."

Jonathan and Martha looked on nervously as Trask pulled a small lead box out of his right breast pocket and flipped the latch off the lid, unlocking it and slowly thumbing it open. A small green crystal rested inside of the black velvet interior, glowing an almost sickly green. It was the most beautifully horrifying thing Clark had ever set eyes on.

Jonathan's voice rang out across the room, sounding far away in comparison the sharp wheezes coming from his chest. "Clark!"

Clark found himself woozy and shaking as soon as the shiny box was opened. He couldn't explain it— he'd never felt this way before. It was... pain. So much pain washed over his body, causing him to be unsteady on his feet and sway dangerously.

And then, just like that, the constant throbbing disappeared. Clark slumped to his knees on a soft groan, still feeling sick and in pain, but he wasn’t getting hit with more of it. It was better this way.

“Clark!!” Martha’s scream echoed around the house as her nine year old boy fell to the floor, barely conscious. Her precious little boy who had never been sick or hurt a day in his life, now rendered nearly lifeless at their feet and all without this man even laying a finger on him.

“You son of a—”

Jason Trask cocked the hammer of his pistol and aimed it at the furious Jonathan Kent. “Uh-uh. You don’t make a move. You two,” he gestured between them with the weapon as Martha wept even more bitterly, “are traitors to your country. You have been harboring a fugitive of the US Government. He is not yours to keep. Now, I can give you two options. Option A involves the two of you keeping your lives and your silence, and I walk out of here with this… alien of yours.”

Clark raised his head heavily to look at his parents, tears clearly tracing the curves of his face. They wouldn’t do that to him. They couldn’t. He was their son, no matter where he came from. He couldn’t stand the thought that this man would hurt either of his parents though. And above all that, there was the issue of the pain throbbing through his veins and the fact that he couldn’t seem to muster up any of his powers at that moment. He should have acted sooner, done something to stop him while he could. Now it was too late.

“Please,” Martha begged once more, barely able to fit words out of her mouth past all of her sobs. “What do you even want with him? He’s just a boy—”

“Are you kidding me?! He’s the proof I’ve needed all this time! I always knew there was an alien out there, waiting to attack us. No one believed me. I could tell something was off here in Smallville last time I was here, but no. It’s just damn crazy Trask and why the hell is he still carrying on about aliens! But this— he is proof! He is what we’ve wanted all along!”

That sort of speech didn’t sound like it came from someone stable, though that was obvious enough from his behavior and the fact that he had a gun trained on them.

“You said there was a second option,” Jonathan gritted through his teeth. There was no way in hell he was going to let anyone just take his son away from him.

“I did, did I?” Jason seemed to think over it for a moment before grinning. “I guess your other option would be to press your luck, me kill you both, and still escape with the creature. Like I said, your choice.”

“How dare you call my son a creature!!” Jonathan snarled and lunged forward, reaching for the weapon.

Suddenly everything seemed to be moving in slow motion to Clark, and yet it felt like it all happened in a matter of seconds. The sharp retort of the gun being fired and missing its intended target. His mother’s blood-curdling scream, his father’s scuffle with the army man, the two of them grappling for the gun.

Then came the sound of the gun being fired again.

Trask fell back onto the floor a few scant feet away from Clark as Jonathan fired repeatedly into the man’s chest, rapidly emptying the clip into him. Clark looked up at his father’s determined expression with wide, frightened eyes.

Jonathan Kent had just killed a man.

*****LnC*****

Metropolis, 1993

Clark was startled out his dark thoughts as his cell phone rang and he pulled the bulky device out of the pocket of his overcoat. He answered immediately, knowing exactly who it was. “Yes, Nigel?”

”Sir, you’ll be pleased to know that the Daily Planet is yours for the taking.”

Clark grinned. “Excellent. When do I sign the paperwork?”

”It should be ready by six o‘clock. If you go in and sign it as early as you can, you can beat anyone else to it and all of the paperwork and insurance information should be done within the week.”

“Perfect. Thank you, Nigel.” With that, he hung up the phone and enthusiastically began to walk faster back towards his home.