inalienable rights CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Clark was repairing one of the many fences that snaked through the Kent farm - or at least he was supposed to be. His subconscious had claimed him just as the autumn sun began to sink into the horizon, and now he leaned on a newly-driven post, wandering through his only slightly distant past.
"I do," she replied, her voice cracking as she failed to suppress her reaction. "I do understand." She understood that the average boy Clark's age would probably jump at the chance of no-strings-attached sex. What she didn't understand was that Clark could see the strings that the average boy wouldn't even think about.
"I can explain," Clark offered.
Marin couldn't imagine any comforting explanations. "You don't have to."
"I want to - please? I need to."
Marin bit her lip and squeezed her eyes against the tears, but they bled through anyway. I needed something too - I just needed to pretend. Why couldn't you pretend with me? "Fine."
Clark drew a deep breath and laid out his words in his head before he spoke them. "I knew before I came back to your room that I didn't have to go through with this. I already had the answer."
Marin was confused, as her face plainly showed.
Clark was stung by the lost expression on her face, but he had to continue. "When I left before and went back to my room, I remembered Jor-El and Louise, Lana's great aunt. I'm assuming you know about that."
Marin nodded in recognition and a fresh wave of sadness consumed her - she understood Clark's reasoning now, but it almost made it worse.
"Nothing happened to Louise - not from sleeping with Jor-El, anyway. So there's nothing I need to prove or disprove, right?" Clark fervently hoped that the obvious logic of this idea would be enough for Marin, and as she said nothing to the contrary, he went on. "So I figured this part of the test wasn't necessary, and any biological reactions or whatever could be tested in the lab, if anyone thinks it's needed."
Marin nodded solemnly. "So, you got it all figured out."
"Yeah, I think so."
Marin glared at him in both anger and humiliation. "Then why did you come back here?" She almost choked on the words and barely managed to spit them out, but Clark recognized them instantly - because those were the words he was hoping she wouldn't say.
Clark repositioned himself on the uncomfortable chair and looked down at his toes. "I… I'd say I'm only human, but you know better."
Marin looked genuinely appalled. "Wow. That was… incredibly cheap of you, Clark." She stood and went to the corner opposite him, as far from Clark as she could be in the tiny room. "So, what, you thought 'hey, good for me, I figured this out all on my own, but what the hell - she's ready and willing, might as well go for it!' Is that why you came back here?" Marin was half-crouched against the wall, her arms crossed protectively over herself as if to ward off the pain of Clark's reply.
Clark stood, and his rueful eyes didn't look away from hers as his visage shifted from shameful to wounded. "That's not what I meant, I'm sorry I said that." He would have been almost inaudible, if not for Marin's need to hear him. He blinked a few times and renewed the air in his lungs, preparing to try again. "I kept going around and around it in my head, and then I was thinking about you, and then yeah, for one minute, I said to myself 'why not? If you know it's safe, why not?' And that was the minute I came back here. I lost my nerve when I got in the door, but then you kissed me and - okay, maybe it wasn't right, but it honestly felt good to actually be acting on an impulse for once, and I didn't want to stop - I really didn't want to stop - but it all came back to me, what you said about ideals and conventions and not being bound by them - but then I realized that I could be bound by at least this one thing - this one normal thing. Like you said, the rules don't apply to me like they do to normal people, but this one old-fashioned thing does, and I want to keep it."
Marin couldn't bring herself to maintain her indignation in the face of Clark's hopeful sincerity. She tried to imagine what it must be like to have only a few threads of normalcy to cling to - those conventions that people take for granted or fight against - and how tempestuous it would be to have to constantly wrestle with demons that no one else has ever fought. She couldn't fault Clark for that. Part of her actually felt a tinge of happiness, because he'd been thinking about her - he said so himself - and he came back to her because he wanted to, not out of obligation. It was an odd sort of satisfaction.
She stepped up to Clark and, without warning, raised herself up on her toes and embraced him around the neck. "Then you should keep it."
A bittersweet tingle ran from the roots of Marin's hair and down to her toenails when Clark hugged her in return, just because he wanted to. Clark looked around and realized that the sunset had long since passed, and the evening breeze carried his mother's voice as she called him in for dinner. He quickly finished with the fence and left it behind, but the guilt of Marin's wounded heart followed him out of the memory.
Dr. Ripley broke into a cold sweat as he hastily packed his array of samples and studies into whatever containers he could find. There were many things that he thought were beneath him, but eavesdropping wasn't one of them, and he was just outside the slightly ajar door to Marin's room when she confessed that she and Clark had in fact not gone through with it and had faked the report. Panic stricken, he raced into his quarters and collected all of the lab's data, which he'd been secretly compiling in its entirety on a series of discs. He pocketed them and set about retrieving as much of the remainder of his work as he could, knowing that it wouldn't take long before someone's accurately accusing finger would be pointed at him. Andrea didn't know about the pregnancy yet, he was certain - she wouldn't have sequestered herself in the diagnostics lab with a model of Clark's ear if she knew. He was counting on Dr. Crosby playing the role of comforting mother just long enough for him to make his escape.
With two black nylon bags slung over his shoulders and the discs containing everything there was to know about Clark Kent tucked securely into an inside pocket, Dr. Ethan Ripley ran down the long back hallway of Dr. Swann's covert lab for the last time.
Clark was clearing the dinner dishes from the table when a knock sounded at the Kents' kitchen door. "Come in," he beckoned welcomingly in the tradition of small-town trust.
"Hi Clark," Chloe chirped brightly. "Hi Mrs. Kent, Mr. Kent. Hope we weren't interrupting dinner."
Martha and Jonathan nodded in greeting as Clark answered for all of them. "Nope, just finished," he assured her as he looked over her shoulder. "Who's 'we?'"
"What?" Chloe looked to her left, clearly expecting someone to be standing there. She rolled her eyes and called through the screen door behind her. "Yeah, Lois. Standing under a light bulb and swatting blindly is going to keep the mosquitos away. You know what works better? Walls."
"I'm coming!" came a muffled reply. "Just thought showing up uninvited was rude enough, so I should probably ditch my new friends first. Although they seem to find me irresistible! Are there even supposed to be mosquitos in October?"
Clark raised an eyebrow at Chloe. "Not being invited - that means something to her?"
Chloe laughed and glanced through the screen again before leaning toward Clark in confidence. "Of course not - and it's not really the mosquitos. Well, not just the mosquitoes. She was running around behind the barn and stepped in something that, truthfully, I'd rather not smell again, so thankfully she's trying to clean it off." Chloe laughed again musically. "But I have photographic evidence!"
Lois suddenly appeared behind her, wearing only socks on her feet. "You'll keep that evidence under wraps if you know what's good for you."
"Or what?"
"Or… you'll be sleepin' with the fishes and wearin' a pair a concrete shoes," Lois mock-threatened, adopting her best De Niro, which was terrible.
"Looks like you're the one who could use the shoes," Clark teased.
Lois rolled her eyes. "Nice to see you too, Kent. Have I mentioned yet just how much I miss the luxurious accessibility of farm living? I mean, I can't tell you how hard it is to get a pair of suede boots properly fertilized in Metropolis."
"Well, until you learn to watch your step, I suggest you try not to put your foot in your mouth." Clark paused, replaying in his mind what Chloe had said a moment ago. "What were you doing behind the barn?"
"Clark?" Martha called from the sink. "Why don't you bring me the last of the dishes and then you can go."
"Okay," Clark obliged and carried the remaining plates and flatware to the sink. He was about turn back when Martha grabbed his sleeve.
"Clark," she whispered, watching to make sure Lois wasn't looking. "Please be careful - she's obviously here to find out what happened in Metropolis - "
"Don't worry, Mom." Clark gave her his best responsible smile and went back to join Chloe and Lois. "So, not that you need a reason, Chloe, but do you have one for coming over?"
"Nice to know I don't need a reason," Chloe smiled and threw a sidelong glance in Lois' direction. "But it actually wasn't me who wanted to see you."
Clark feigned surprised, and then he pretended to pout. "You mean you didn't want to see me, Chloe?"
Chloe's face reddened. "Why don't we all go talk in the loft?"
"Um, hello, I'm a little challenged in the footwear department," Lois reminded them.
"You want to borrow something?" Clark offered.
Lois grimaced. "And get farm-boy cornfield sweat on my socks? Is there a detergent strong enough to get that out?"
Clark rolled his eyes. "I meant to borrow something from my mom, genius. But suit yourself - I'm sure cow-pie stomping is even more fun with only socks."
Lionel Luthor had been poring over the latest edition of the Daily Planet - procured from one of the prison guards - when he was told he had a visitor. Intrigued, and perhaps less troubled than he should have been by the fact that the visitor gave no name by which to be announced, he agreed to the visitation and waited as patiently as you'd expect of an incarcerated billionaire.
When the stranger appeared and stood silently on the other side of the cage that bound him, Lionel spoke. "You have me at a disadvantage, and quite literally like a caged animal I am more apt to defend myself with malice, if provoked. I do not enjoy playing the underdog, so I suggest you recover quickly from what you doubtlessly perceive as your triumph with the element of surprise, and tell me your name and why it should be of any interest to me."
The visitor stepped closer and smiled - a devious smile with which Lionel felt a certain kinship. "Mr. Luthor," he greeted with perhaps too much familiarity. "I guarantee that what I have will be of interest to you."
Lionel crossed his arms over his chest and tapped the fingers of one hand against the opposite elbow. "I'm still waiting for the name of the guarantor."
The confident smile didn't whither in the wake of Lionel's glare. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sir. I'm Dr. Ethan Ripley."
"Marin, please try to understand," Clark pleaded.