Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic The Boy in Black (16/?)

Thank you, Carol!

From Chapter 15

“I could help more than I do,” I said, but the fire was gone from my words.

“If what?” Dad asked from his place at the table. “If you dropped out of school and became the Boy in Black full time? If you broke up with Maddie so she wouldn't expect you to be there when she had a fight with her father? Is that the type of life you want to have, Clark?”

“I'm not normal, Dad,” I said. “Maybe it's unfair of me to want a normal life.”

“Clark Kent!” Mom said stepping back to look me in the eye – a task that wasn't as easy as it used to be given the fact that I was now seven inches taller than she was. “Stop that nonsense right now. Of course you're not normal. You are special. Do you know what makes you special?” she asked, but she kept speaking before I could reply. “You are a good, kind boy who feels the pain of others acutely. You are a talented writer. You are a good student. And you are a better son than your father or I could have ever hoped for.

“These… strange abilities of yours, Clark. They don't make you special. They are not at all a part of who Clark Kent is. They don't define you and there's no reason to let them.”

Dad came to stand beside me. “Clark, you have just as much right to a normal life as anyone else. If you want to use your special abilities to help, that's admiral, and you're mother and I will support you, but you can't give up your life for that.”

I nodded, but mainly as I was too tired to argue with them. I still wasn't sure they were right.


Chapter 16

I went straight to my English comp class from Smallville. I just sort of hoped that no one commented on my clothes – I had changed in Smallville, but the clothes I had chosen were from high school and didn't fit quite as well as I would have liked. I should have left more time to change, but given that I couldn't use super-speed to change in the dorm room, I decided to just wait and change after class.

It wasn't like my heart was in my schoolwork today anyway. I'm sure Mom and Dad would have liked it to be, but I couldn't really compartmentalize like that. I couldn't block out the images of what I had seen in Africa just because I was Clark Kent, college student, and not the Boy in Black right now. I didn't tell them that, though. I was afraid if I did, they'd suggest I put the Boy in Black on hold for a couple more years.

I understood their point that I should be able to have a life. I really did. More than that, I could see how a decision not to do that could hurt them. While they had found a baby in a spaceship, they had always raised me as if they had carried me home from a hospital, as if I were a perfectly normal human baby. Really, it was nice in a way. No matter what it turned out my origins were, I knew Mom and Dad accepted me for who I was. If they had the stray thought that their son was a freak, they tamped it down so tightly I wasn't sure they even realized they had it.

So, I could imagine that if I chose to forgo having a normal life and started helping out openly, using all my powers, it would hurt them. It wasn't the life they had imagined me having when they pulled me out of that ship. On the other hand, maybe it should have been. Not exactly, of course. They didn't know about my… well, whatever they were yet. But they had pulled me out of a spaceship. My parents were great, but they weren't idiots. They had to have realized that this meant I wasn't actually normal. None of their friends had babies from spaceships, did they?

When I was a kid, Dad used to talk a lot about my taking over the farm. Especially when my powers first started coming in, he'd grin and tell me I was going to be the best farmer in Lowell County. I still remember how excited I was that Dad could see me as a farmer, as being even better than he was, when I was really little. And I could remember how uncomfortable I felt later when I realized that wasn't what I wanted.

I must have been about thirteen when I realized what I liked best was writing, and I certainly knew enough about farming by then to know that it didn't include a whole lot of writing. I didn't say anything, though. It was also around that time that Mom and Dad told me the truth – the whole truth - about how they had found me.

I felt like I needed to be a farmer if that was what would make Dad happy. He had given me a life here, had supported me for thirteen years and showed no signs of stopping. If all he wanted in return was for me to take over his farm, that wasn't really that much to ask, was it?

So, I said little during those conversations, but I'd nod and smile and try as hard as I could to make him think I still thought being a farmer was the best job in the world.

It took a year before the conversations stopped. At first, I didn't even really notice that Dad had stopped mentioning it. It was a hard year, though. The first really strange thing about me had developed – my hearing, and I think we were all trying to deal with what it meant. There had been other stuff before that – I hadn't been sick in my entire life. I was really fast and pretty strong for my age. But none of that stuff was in fully yet and even added together, I don't think we really realized what it meant.

But when I started being able to overhear conversations Mr. and Mrs. Irig were having over breakfast four miles away, it was hard to ignore that I wasn't your average American boy.

So, even when I did notice that Dad had stopped mentioning the farm, I thought it was because of how strange I was. I thought he didn't want some weirdo inheriting his farm. I didn't say anything, because how could I? He was still raising me as his son, wasn't he? How lucky was I?

It all came out one night when we were fighting. I hadn't learned to control my hearing well. Mom had been on me to work on it, had even given me tips on it, for months now. She had even told me that she and Dad would work on it with me. But I was fourteen and frightened. I didn't want their help. I wanted to be normal. So, I ignored it.

Until the night I heard Mom and Dad talking about the farm and what was going to happen to it after they could no longer run it.

“You know we can't leave it to Clark,” I heard Dad say. I was supposed to be doing my homework, but I'd been eavesdropping half the night. I hadn't meant to, and I knew Mom was right. I should work on controlling my hearing better. I hadn't done it yet, though.

“I know we can't expect him to run the farm, Jonathan, but…”

I was downstairs before she finished her sentence. “Why not?” I asked them. “Why can't I have the farm anymore?”

Mom and Dad looked at me in silence. It occurred to me that I should feel ashamed at having listened in to their conversation, but I was too angry to be ashamed.

“What do you mean, Clark?” Dad finally asked.

“Why can't I have the farm anymore? You said I was going to be the best farmer in Lowell County. Maybe even Kansas. Why can't I anymore?”

“But Clark…” Dad started, but I cut him off.

“It's because I'm weird, isn't it? You don't want me running the farm anymore because I'm not your son,” I said. I felt the tears falling down my face, and was embarrassed by them – I was too old to cry – but I didn't care right then. I was so angry. How could he have pretended to accept me as his son when he really didn't feel that way? How could they have lied to me like that?

“Clark?” Dad replied, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Maybe I should move out,” I said.

“Move out?” Mom asked and she had the beginning of a smile on her face. “Where to, Clark? It's hard for a fourteen year old boy to live on his own.”

I shrugged. “I'm pretty strong for my age. I bet I could get a job somewhere,” I said defiantly.

Dad sighed. “Clark, what are you talking about? What's this nonsense about being weird and not being my son?”

“You wanted me to take over the farm. You told me so all the time. But now that this weird stuff started to happen, you never talk about it anymore.” I was crying like a baby and my nose was even running, but I was so upset, I just didn't care. “And I just heard you tell Mom that I can't have the farm anymore.” I stared at him, daring him to argue with me.

Wordlessly, Dad handed me a napkin. “I don't know where you get this nonsense from, but you are my son,” he said in a tone he rarely used, but I knew meant not to argue. “Now, go wash your face and come back down here and we'll talk about this like adults.”

Still feeling angry, but knowing better than to argue, I took the napkin and swiped at my face as I made my way upstairs to the bathroom.

When I came back to the kitchen, though, I made my displeasure known by sitting down sloppily in a chair. Mom hated when I did that, but right then I didn't care.

“Do you want the farm, Clark?” Mom asked me.

I looked at her for a moment. Was this some sort of trick question? “It's my home,” I finally said.

She nodded, but it was Dad who spoke. “Running a farm, Clark, it's a lot of work. You would be good at it and you would be the best farmer in Kansas. I'm sure of it. But between planting and plowing and taking care of the hens… well, when would you get any writing done?”

“What?” I asked.

“If you want the farm, it's yours, Clark,” Mom said.

“We'd like nothing better,” Dad said, “than for our only son to carry on running the Kent farm. But this isn't about what we want. It's about what you want. Would you be happy running the farm? Wouldn't you prefer to be writing?”

I didn't say anything. How did he know? I'd never said anything. Did he mean it? Was this really completely unrelated to my weird… traits? “So, it's not because I'm weird?” I finally asked.

“You are not weird!” Mom said loudly. “You are a boy.”

“You're our boy,” Dad interjected.

“And you happen to be a boy who has some special talents,” Mom said. “Like good hearing and being strong.”

“And being the best writer in the freshman class at Smallville High,” Dad added.

I looked at them in disbelief. “Really?” I asked. “I can have the farm if I want it?”

“Of course, Clark,” Mom said.

“But we don't want you to take it because you feel like you have to,” Dad said.

“But if I wanted it?” I asked.

“That would make your mother and me very happy,” Dad said. “The only thing that would make us happier would be if you had someone else run it for you so you could follow your dreams and not ours.”

“So, it's really not because of the hearing thing?” I asked. I just needed to be sure.

“No,” Dad said.

“Although, we are going to work on that,” Mom said. “You had no business eavesdropping on our conversation, young man.”

I nodded and could feel myself flush. “I'm sorry,” I said softly.

“We know you are,” Dad said softly. “You're a good kid and we're proud that you're our son.”

Since that day, Dad had openly encouraged me to pursue writing as long as that made me happy.

How could I give that up – the whole dream of having a normal life – after everything they'd done for me?

I thought of the bodies in South Africa from yesterday. On the other hand, how could I not?

************************

I got back to my room to find it empty. That wasn't too surprising. I had a break after English comp, but Steve had a class at that time. There was a note on my bed which I ignored while I changed into some clothes that fit better. Then sitting on the bed, I opened the note.

“Clark –

Where the heck are you?

Talked to Maddie. She didn't tell me what was wrong either, but she still seemed upset. You should go and see her if you ever get back here.

- Lois”

I had to smile at the note – the tone was perfect Lois. Still, I had to admit to being worried about Maddie. I had really hoped she'd open up to Lois.

I sighed. I also wondered if Lois' tone meant something. “Where the heck are you?” made it sound like she had been waiting for me for awhile. Had anyone noticed that I wasn't in my room last night? Steve might have, but that was unlikely. I'd only been away once for an entire night before, but he was a deep sleeper and didn't seem to notice when I came in other times. So, as long as I had an early class, it was unlikely he'd notice my not coming back.

Maddie had a class now, too, so there was no point in trying to see her, but maybe I could head over there in a little while and try to meet her before lunch. First though, I thought it might be a good time for a nap.

************************

“Hey,” I said, as Maddie exited the psychology building.

She shot me a look as she fell into step beside me. “What happened to you last night?” she asked me.

“What do you mean?” I asked. I knew perfectly well what she meant – I was supposed to meet her after dinner and I had never shown, but I wasn't sure what to say.

“Where were you?” she said, looking at me as if I had two heads. “You were supposed to come over after you finished typing up your paper and you never showed.”

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I didn't realize our plans were that firm.”

Maddie stopped walking to fix me with a hard look. “What does that mean?”

I shrugged.

“You know, if I wanted to date a flake, I would have gone out with your roommate,” she said, and if I had missed the clues before, it was pretty clear she was angry now.

“Steve doesn't do relationships,” I said, even though I knew that wasn't the point and it probably wasn't the right thing to say at all.

“Okay, what's wrong with you?” Maddie demanded.

“What do you mean?” I asked. I could almost feel her anger, but I was at a loss as to what to say.

“The Clark I was dating up until yesterday never would have made plans to come over and then not shown without calling first. He never would have then tried to act like it hadn't happened. And he never would have acted like an idiot when I confronted him about it.

“And, by the way, I'm not sure he would have told Lois about my fight with my dad either.”

“Hey!” I said. “I only did that as I was worried about you. I thought maybe you'd talk to her since you wouldn't tell me what was wrong.”

“You were so worried that you blew me off last night?” Maddie asked.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “My article was harder to write than I expected. I guess I got caught up in that.”

“You guess?” Maddie asked. “Besides, I called your room around eleven and Steve said you weren't there. So, where were you all wrapped up in how hard it was to write your article?”

“I went to the library,” I told her, looking at the ground so she couldn't see the lie on my face. “I thought it would be easier to concentrate there. It wasn't, though. I never even finished it.”

“Why would you go to the library?” Maddie asked. “How were you planning to type your paper from the library when your word processor is in your room? I thought that was the whole reason you weren't coming to my place – you don't like my word processor.”

“I never got that far,” I said truthfully. “I was just trying to organize my notes.”

“Half the night? And it never occurred to you to call me and let me know?”

I shrugged again, still not knowing what to say.

“You know what?” Maddie asked me. “I don't know what your deal is today, Clark, but you are not behaving anything like my boyfriend, and I'm not all that fond of this version of Clark Kent.” With that she spun on her heel and stormed off.