Only Jonathan Kent remained. He was a reactive man, especially where his family was concerned. When someone or something threatened it, disrupted it, or challenged its strength, he would do whatever was necessary to preserve it.

But this time, he couldn't do anything.

Marin Blake was just a girl. Whatever the mistake she and Clark had made - and Jonathan would make sure they shared the consequences for it - right now, she was just a girl, alone, frightened, and aware of Clark's secret. Isolated from the world by what she knew and what grew inside her. She wasn't a threat to his family.

She was now a part of it.

Jonathan's first impulse was to disbelieve her words, but while he was suspended in the scathing silence that fell after she uttered them, he knew that they were true. They were too weighty and raw to say if they weren't. When he'd first heard those words - I'm carrying your child - directed at his son, he'd felt an immediate surge of parental anger and the impulse to ground Clark for eternity and throw Marin onto the stoop, showering her with accusations of ruining Clark's life.

But that was no solution.

He couldn't say he wasn't shocked or disappointed, but he'd spent so many years trying to teach Clark that he couldn't undo things, that he couldn't take back his own actions or anybody else's. Clark often fell victim to consuming guilt, and the only way to lighten it was to remind him that all that mattered now was what he did in the future. He couldn't change the past.

It was that mantra that Jonathan repeated to himself now, fighting his natural instinct to explode with truly righteous indignation. Nothing he could say or do would erase the situation. All that mattered now was how they all - as a family - handled it. He glanced out the window to see Clark pacing the yard with his hands in his hair, Chloe observing from a short distance.

Marin perceived Jonathan's reflective silence as stony and disapproving, and in the long, noiseless interval that followed Martha's exit she realized he must be waiting for her to speak. Wiping her eyes with the heels of her hands, she stood, then demurely laced her fingers together and studied the coffee table. She tried to look up to see if Jonathan's expression was as scary as his silence, but she could see little through her tears.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kent,"' she offered brokenly.

So shattered were her words, so wounded and scared, that something new was awakened in Jonathan. He sensed that there was something deeper, that this was not merely the fallout of a weekend tryst. Marin Blake had endured something - something inconceivable. He could see it pulling on her, tying her down and leaving her fatigued and hopeless. He noted the darkness under her eyes, the pallor in her face. Something had tortured her from the inside out. The effort to come to them and make her confession had to have been monumental.

Marin's heart leapt about her chest at Jonathan's continued silence, and she was certain that he was passing bitter judgments on her. He was fiercely protective of Clark, she knew. He must see her as a harlot, a sly city girl who'd lured his young son into some debauched rendezvous. She struggled for breath, let alone the words to offer her explanation, though it was more horrible than what they all supposed. She still couldn't look up.

She was about to try to speak again when an arm came to rest across her shoulders, and she was pulled into the embrace of Clark's father. She didn't understand the gesture, but her soul needed it, and she sank against him in an admission of defeat. Her deprivation had been so complete, rejected as she felt she was by everything in her own life. Now here she was, intruding on somebody else's existence, and for the first time in recent memory she felt safe, accepted, like everything she'd been and done before didn't matter. Jonathan held her tenderly, protecting her from her own apprehensions. Marin had feared him as judge, jury, and executioner. He was none of those things.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Kent," Marin whimpered again.

"I know," he said warmly, his voice lined with gentle strength. "But we'll all handle this together."

In Metropolis, Clark had asked her what made him worth the sacrifice she was willing to make. She hadn't been able to answer him then, but now she could. Now that she'd stood in the bracing strength of Jonathan Kent, she knew exactly why Clark was worth anything.

Clark was pacing the yard, sporadically grimacing or swiping at some unseen foe. The harder he tried to make sense of it, the more nonsensical it became.

Chloe had observed him in silence until he finally broke his stride and sank down in the dusty drive, resting his arms on his knees. She padded over delicately and sat opposite him, legs folded under her and her chin resting on her enlaced hands. There she waited, until Clark noticed her.

When as last Clark looked up into Chloe's open and expectant face, his own visage crumbled. "Chloe…" he whispered. "Chloe, this is all a mistake." He emphasized the last word as if there were no other possibility. There was no other possibility, short of madness. But the madness of whom?

"She reacted to the Kryptonite," Chloe reminded him.

Chloe's measured, emotionless repose was troubling to Clark. He had just begun to think that there might actually be something between them, especially after all that they'd shared in the last twelve hours. He knew what her feelings for him had always been, and often laid awake at night reflecting bitterly on how ineptly he explained himself to her. There were so many occasions on which he knew he'd left her heart in pieces - he could see it in her eyes, in the way she smiled far too brightly, the way she'd toss her head nonchalantly along with a sardonic joke. After all this time, he could finally be open with her, finally didn't have to let her walk away hiding tears in order to protect himself. At last, they were both in a place where he could explain.

Except that he had no explanation to give.

But she appeared tranquil on the surface, undisturbed by what should have been the most upsetting news of all, if her feelings for him hadn't changed. Chloe may have become a master of denying her heart to herself, but she could never hide it well from those who knew her. Her mask was thin, her tortured glances in Clark's direction never concealed as she thought they were.

But none of that was there now. She didn't seem to care. "Chloe, it's not what you think," Clark began.

Chloe smiled placidly. "You don't know what I'm thinking."

Clark nodded. "Okay, but still, it's not - it's not what you think."

"Doesn't matter," Chloe shrugged.

"It doesn't matter?" Clark cried. "Are you crazy?"

After a long, thick pause, the real Chloe began seeping back into those eyes. "Yes!" she wailed. "Yes, I must be crazy! Crazy to ever think that Clark Kent wouldn’t keep me guessing. Crazy to think I could ever really know you. Crazy not to think that, no matter how close I got, there would always be somebody closer. Some other secret around the corner! There will always be a Lana, or a Marin or - hell, even Lois!" She bit her lip and tasted the bitter saltiness of the tears that had landed there. "I must be some special kind of idiot, to keep getting sucked in to your vortex." She jumped to her feet, brushing away tears as she ran for the loft, realizing she had no way to get herself home but needing someplace to be alone.

"Chloe!" Clark called after her before he dashed to cut off her escape. "Chloe, listen to me, there is no Marin, we didn't - "

"Spare me the excuses, Clark. I'm a big girl, I know how the plumbing works. There's only one way this could have happened."

"But it didn't happen!"

"Oh really?" Chloe challenged, standing on tiptoe to get into Clark's face. "Can you look me in the eye and say with absolute honesty that nothing happened with her?"

Clark hesitated before answering, which made his answer null and void. Chloe knew what hesitation meant. "Oh, nevermind, don't answer - really, I got it. Mental snapshot and everything. Hope you had fun! Just, let's skip the post-vacation slideshow, please." She resumed her course toward the barn.

"Chloe," Clark tried again, holding her insistently by the arm. "Don't make jokes about this. I can't say that nothing happened with Marin, but even what did happen wasn't really what you think, if you just give me a chance to explain. But we did not sleep together."

"I didn't get the impression that sleeping was involved," Chloe huffed.

"Would you cut that out? I'm trying to figure this out too!"

"Cut it out? I think I've earned the right to give you a derogatory cut or two, Saint Clark.

"Damn it!" Clark cursed. "Would you stop acting like I did something to you?"

"Oh, obviously you only did something to Marin - "

Clark's eyes blazed. "Stop that. Now. I know I've hurt you in the past and you have every right to jump to conclusions, but the Chloe Sullivan I know wouldn't run with a story until she'd verified the facts. The facts are sitting in my living room. Just go ask her - she'll tell you. She has to."

Chloe looked skeptical, in addition to wounded. "You're telling me, that if I walk in there and ask the girl who just claimed to be pregnant with your child whether or not she's has sex with you, she'll say no?"

Clark nodded. "I know, it doesn't make any sense, but it's the truth. We just - we have to go back and let Marin tell her story. Just trust me okay?"

"Trust you?"

Clark looked down at the ground. "I know it's a tall order, but just think about everything, okay? Think about last night. Think about all the things you know about me, and how long it took to learn them. Has anything about me been easy to explain?"

Chloe shrugged in concession. "No."

"So you trust me?"

"Not as far as I can throw you," Chloe snipped. "But I'm a journalist. I'll listen to her story."

Clark sighed in relief. "Good. Thank you."

"But I want to make one thing clear first."

"Okay."

"I'm done, after this. Whatever it is I've always been - the sidekick or the kid sister - whatever platonic role I've had, let's just leave it at that. I don't think I can handle more than that, not right now. There are too many secrets, too many complications. I'm not stupid enough to think that this is the last of them, and I'm not exactly gunning to have my heart stepped on again, so let's just table the more-than-friends notion."

"Okay," Clark said again, trying not to look as deflated as he felt. Chloe's knowledge of his secret had made him feel closer to her. He hadn't been certain yet how deep his feelings ran, but he thought he might want to share more with her than a secret.

"So, let's go find out how the virgin Marin managed this immaculate conception."

Clark winced. "Geez, Chloe, try not to be crass, okay? She's really upset already, that's not gonna help."

"Sorry, I'm coping with inappropriate humor. Best to get it out of my system now."