inalienable rights CHAPTER TWO
Clark absent-mindedly packed a small week-ender with the essentials as he mulled over what Jonathan had said. In the five-hour interval between now and then, neither had spoken to the other, which frustrated Clark because it was just more of the same non-communication. It wasn't quite as bad as the usual stream of well-intended nothings that were usually shoveled around the Kent farm as often as fertilizer, but it still left him uneasy.
"I don't know where you're going, but wherever that is - do you really think you're going to need Third Grade Penmanship, Second Edition?" Lois was leaning idly in the frame of his bedroom door, looking like she herself was ready to go somewhere.
Clark glanced sheepishly at the books in his hand, one of which was indeed his old handwriting workbook. "Yeah, I guess my mind was wandering." He gave Lois a once-over as subtly as an eighteen-year-old small-town boy could. Now it's wandering in a different direction… He eyed the suitcase at her feet. "Are you leaving?"
She nodded and tried to appear nonchalant as she peered into the bag Clark was packing. "Yeah, now that Chloe and I have had a chance to catch up, and - well, she's not dead anymore, so I guess I'm not investigating her murder…" Lois trailed off. Since when does a Kansas farm boy make me trip over my words? "Well, I have to get back to Metropolis, so… yeah." Oh, shut up, it's getting worse!
Clark smiled. "Maybe I'll see you there sometime." Smooth, Kent. You're slick as cracked cement.
Lois nodded again. "Yeah, of course, and I'm sure I'll be here to visit, since my cousin's… not dead… yeah." If I don't trip over another sentence and die of a head wound, that is. "So where are you going?"
"Metropolis, actually," Clark replied honestly before thinking better of it. He bit his lip and placed the penmanship book back on his bottom shelf. "This is what happens when you never throw anything away," he said, trying to change the subject and gesturing to the tattered book. What happens, exactly? You pack strangely? Get up and practice cursive in the middle of the night? Accidentally set it on fire? What the hell am I talking about?
Lois, either fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your perspective, missed the pack-rat comment altogether and zeroed in on Clark's destination. "Metropolis? What for? Are you leaving now?" Need a place to stay?
"Just visiting some old friends," Clark offered as vaguely as possible. "I'm leaving in about ten minutes. Are you leaving now too?" Please say no… or yes… no, you better say no.
"Ah, well, I am taking my leave of the Kent farm, but I'm having dinner with Chloe before I head back. Are you taking the bus? If you want to wait a little while you can go with me."
Clark grimaced. "Well, thanks, really, but I do have to go now. I'm already getting kind of a late start." Why do I even want to go with her? Well, okay, there's the obvious, but then there's Lana… but why? "So yeah, sorry, but I'll have to pass."
Lois nodded yet again with a wry smile, sensing some inner dialog that precipitated the slightly guilty expression on Clark's face. She guessed it wasn't quite as chaste as his actions usually were. "Well, look me up while you're there, if you have time." She tore a piece of paper from a conveniently placed notepad and scrawled her phone number on it before handing it to Clark. "You know, if you want to, and you're not busy."
If I want to? "Thanks," Clark managed, looking over Lois' head and stuffing the paper in his jeans pocket. Awkward silence ensued, with another nod from Lois. "Well, I should go - "
"Yeah!" Lois agreed, a little too brightly. "Yeah, me too." She picked up her suitcase and started out the door.
"Hey, let me get that," Clark offered and lunged for the suitcase, but Lois pulled it back.
"Very chivalrous, Clark, but I got it. I manage to get by in Metropolis with no hay-balin' muscle to carry my suitcases."
Clark held up his hands in submission. "Sorry - didn't mean to tread on your sense of feminism."
Lois raised her left eyebrow quizzically. "Well, zinger from the farmer's son. You're just full of surprises, aren't you Clark?"
Clark shifted uncomfortably and slung his own bag over his shoulder. "Not really," he shrugged.
Lois' quizzical expression narrowed into a shrewd visual assessment. "Now, you don't expect me to believe that, do you? Everybody has their secrets." She was halfway down the stairs, calling back over her shoulder, when she wheeled around to face Clark again. "So what's yours, Clark?"
Clark shrugged again and was struggling for an answer while he shifted the bag to his other shoulder.
Lois stepped closer, her face only inches away, her expression accusatory. "You use synthetic nutrients on the organic produce, don't you?"
Clark laughed, simultaneously relieved and amused. "No, of course not, it's all-natural." He slipped past her and let out the breath he'd been holding when his first foot hit the landing. "Have a nice dinner with Chloe," he called, and disappeared through the front door.
Lois took one more step before her heavy suitcase got the better of her and crashed to the bottom of the stairs, its latch broken and its contents splayed across the Kents' entryway. "Well, crap."
In truth, the way he was traveling Clark had more than enough time to get to Metropolis, but there was something he needed to do first. Jonathan was mending yet another fence post when Clark approached him.
"Dad?" Clark was tentative.
"You leaving now?" The absence of the usual "Son" that followed most of Jonathan's addresses to Clark carried its intended sting.
"Yes."
"Good."
"Dad, I -"
"I meant 'good,' so you can get some answers. Sorry, I just learned I don't communicate very well."
Clark ran his hand through his hair and scratched his head. "Dad, that's not what I meant. I just… could you stop that for a minute and listen to me?"
Jonathan exhaled heavily and set his tools aside, peeling off his work gloves. He and Clark stood silently for a moment, until Jonathan raised his hands in an expectant gesture. "Whenever you're ready," he said, and crossed his arms over his chest.
Clark nodded and rooted his gaze to the patches of brown earth that showed through the grass. "I never meant to make you feel like I didn't - like I don't - appreciate what you do and the advice you give. I know this isn't easy, and that there's nobody you can turn to for help in raising a kid like me."
Jonathan remained stony and silent.
"It's just that, this is where I belong," Clark continued, "no matter what Jor-El says. I've decided to believe that, I've decided to be Clark Kent, and I wouldn't have done that if I hadn't been raised by somebody who taught me what the value of life is. I don't understand what Jor-El is trying to teach me and I'm not sure that I want to, but I do understand what you try to tell me - I just get frustrated because you hardly ever really say it. I know you want to say things so that they stick, and you think it means more if you can phrase it like a proverb or something, but all I really need is to hear it like you mean it. "
Jonathan looked deeply thoughtful for a moment, then shook his head. "I know that, and I suppose I always have, I just don't know how to do it I guess. I don't know why, it's just - it's easier to keep talking like I have all the answers than it is to admit that I really don't have any. Not for you."
Clark smiled wanly. "That's okay, Dad, really. I just need you to be real, because to be honest…" Clark trailed off, hesitant to continue.
"What?"
Clark shook his head. "No, it's… it's no big deal."
Now it was Jonathan's turn to get frustrated. "What, after all this talk about how important it is to be straightforward and say what we mean, you're not going to even say what this is really all about?"
Clark's features contorted in a blend of remorse and indignation. "It's because you're fading, Dad! Jor-El, if nothing else, is pretty straight with me - he's never hiding behind what he thinks I want to hear. And you - well, you talk in circles so much lately that the real you feels lost, and I honestly can't hold on to my dad when he's creating all this distance. I know it's not on purpose, but Dad… Okay, the bottom line is, Jor-El is trying to pull me closer and you're pushing me away. That's the last thing I want, but - it's really hard to fight."
It wasn't often that Clark really looked defeated, and when he did it was wrenching to see. Jonathan was at a loss for words, an increasingly frequent condition. It was so easy to forget that, despite all the things he could do, he was fundamentally just a kid who was trying to figure himself out, on a purely human level. Jonathan had been so focused on his inadequacy in understanding Clark's extra-terrestrial beginnings, he often took for granted Clark's undeniable humanity.
"I'm sorry, Son," Jonathan whispered, embracing him and clapping him on the shoulder. "I really don't know what else to say right now, but I am sorry."
Clark hugged his father back. "That's enough."
Jonathan stepped back and regarded his son. "You're sure about this? These tests?"
Clark smiled. Honest feelings evidently lead to faster recovery as far as Jonathan Kent was concerned. "Yeah, well, I think Dr. Swann is right. If something really does happen to me, what can I do? You remember what happened with Helen Bryce. I can't really risk seeing a conventional doctor. I know you're not crazy about his whole team knowing my secret, but since they already know I may as well find out if they can help me."
Jonathan tugged his gloves back over his calloused hands and resumed his work on the wire fence. "They know because Swann told them, after he swore that he'd keep your secret."
"Yeah, I'm not thrilled about that either, but he only shared it with trusted members of his medical team who he thought could help me."
"He should have asked first."
"Yeah, I agree, but we can't change that now."
"I just don't like the idea that someone you trusted has had a team secretly studying you for months."
Clark paused for a moment before continuing. "I just need to do this, Dad. You can understand that, right?"
Jonathan looked up again. "Yes, I suppose I can, but I still don't have to like it."
Clark smiled. "See, honesty's not so bad."
Jonathan chuckled. "Yeah, we'll see if you still feel that way the next time I get a call about you skipping class."
Clark looked incredulous. "I thought you said you didn't mind because of - well, it's usually an emergency."
"For the sake of others, I don't mind, but as a father - eh, I lied."