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Saturday 2155 hrs
Clark had come home yawning after a long long day. Martha saw him drive up and couldn’t help but smile.
//My sweet boy.//
She couldn’t even begin to think how she’d live once her only son moved out of Smallville as he planned to, very soon. Martha and Jonathan felt blessed to have been chosen by this angel from the sky as his foster parents. She remembered the awkward gangly teenager she had sent out into the world after years of seclusion and then saw the confident young man walking into her kitchen with the most precious smile in the world on his face. He was taller and broader and stronger and more aware of himself. But most of all, he was a *little* more comfortable with himself than he was two years ago.
My son. Martha felt proud.
Clark had kissed her and asked what was for dinner. No matter how much Clark ate outside, he was always hungry for his mom’s cooking. Jonathan had walked in right that moment grumbling about another of Lionel Luthor’s illegal conquests he’d learnt about. They had had dinner together during which Clark filled his father in about everything he and Chloe had found out about the Luthor situation. And they had joked and laughed and had a jolly good time. But just this once, Clark twitched. The way he does when he hears something distinct coming from afar. He had recently come into this new ability to hear sounds coming from.. like.. miles away and wasn’t very good at controlling it. Martha and Jonathan quietened down and later asked him what it was. Clark looked confused and shrugged. Then smiled.
“Probably nothing. Just my imagination working overtime”
They had continued with the dinner.
Saturday 2320 hrs
Clark lay in his bed in the loft and stared at the ceiling. Course it wasn’t the ceiling he was looking at. He could see the stars and the clouds in the sky quite nicely thank you. Plus he couldn’t sleep.
You’d think you’d be tired after having super-sonic speeding all over the place digging stuff up for the Torch, saving an old couple from being run over by a speeding truck, and listening to Chloe reading out her sensational column for the seventy third time and watching Pete getting tackled and smothered all over the football ground.
Nope. Not sleepy at all.
Clark kept thinking back to the dinner at the Zinc. About how beautiful Chloe looked and how funny her lemonade joke was and... and how different Whitney looked. Not just physically, we’ve covered that, just the way he walked and talked and.. looked at him. As if he was trying to say something but couldn’t really remember what. As if he was seeing Clark’s face for the first time and yet was trying to remember where he’d seen him before. As if…
//oh enough with the metaphors. Chloe is better at them anyway. //
But fact was, and Clark never was one to run from any of those, he couldn't stop thinking about Whitney. He wondered if Whit was thinking about him too. Whit? Where did that come from? It was always Whitney or Fordman between the two of them. He thought back to the time when they were together at school and all the fights they used to have over Lana. Well, not exactly fights. More like the star quarterback and his rat pack kicking the local farm boy’s behind. But he hadn’t minded. Nah… super strong renegade alien and all. Instead he went around saving the quarterback’s royal behind behind his.. pardon me.. behind. Is that a simile? Or an irony?
//Damn it, whatever//
So fact is, no matter what Whitney did, however nasty he was, Clark always watched over him. He did it because he knew Lana cared very deeply for him, and he cared even more deeply for Lana. But then, things started to change. Lana was obviously interested in him, he didn’t need to look out for Whitney any more. But still he did. And mind you, this is not the common saving-old-couple-from-being-run-over type of caring, this is something more. Way more.
“Now how the hell do you explain that?” Clark knew there was an explanation for this after all. But he decided not to dwell on it. Why? Because he wasn’t ready. Not yet.
“And besides isn’t my life complicated enough as is?” Clark tossed and turned.
“Jeez all this psycho-analysis stuff is driving me crazy. And am I actually talking to myself?”
Yes he was. After a really long time, he finally started to drift to sleep.
“Wonder what he’s doing right now?”
Vaguely aware that this was the kind of question he once used to ask himself about Lana, Clark dozed off. And he dreamt of the ocean and he dreamt of dolphins and he dreamt of Whitney. Pretty soon he was hovering lightly over his bed. There were very few things in his life now that could make him loose control like that.
Jonathan may just have to get another bed tomorrow.
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