Look at me!

[serafina20]

I'm updating COTW part 53.

I really should just wait until it's done, it's been so long since I've updated.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3



"Look. All I am saying is you have to be careful. That's all," Jonathan said.

"And all I'm saying is this isn't something I do on purpose," replied Clark. His chest was fluttery with adrenaline, stomach twisted in annoyance. "I just fall asleep. I don't even realize I'm doing it until someone wakes me up."

"It's just like anything else. You need to learn to control it. Or stop it." Jonathan's eyes cut sideways to Clark for a moment, before turning back to the road. "That social worker suggested we get take you to a psychologist outside of school. He said that seeing Dr. Carvey once a week satisfies the state guidelines, but you might need something extra."

Clark leaned his head against the window. Stuck out his lower lip. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. What do you think?"

He didn't answer. He could already feel his eyes getting heavy.

"Clark?"

"What am I supposed to say to a psychologist?"

"You could talk about Lionel. Talk about Lex."

"No, I couldn't."

"They can't talk to anyone unless they suspect abuse. You're over the age of consent. Isn't that what you're always telling us? Besides. He's your friend, not just your boyfriend. You could talk about your concerns. Your worries." Jonathan hesitated before saying, "You've always an... unusually empathetic kid. That's how your mom puts it. But it's true. You've always worried so much about your friends. Worried yourself sick in some cases. And, right now, you don't need that kind of stress. Just like Lex, you need to learn to deal with your problems. Your mom and I just aren't enough."

"Of course you are," Clark protested automatically. He turned in his seat to look at his dad.

Jonathan's lips twitched, like he was amused. He shook his head. "No, Clark. We're not. And you've been arguing that for about a year now, so don't suddenly go back." He turned the car onto the road leading to their house. "You've been through a lot, and, yes, some of it you can't talk about with a stranger. But the stuff about Lionel? That you can. School stress, friend stress, family stress, all that is open season. And if you're falling asleep at school, during appointments while talking about it, that says to all of us that you still don't quite know how to deal with it all." He sighed and reached over to clap Clark on the shoulder. "I'm sorry I jumped on you about needing to control this. I know that's not the way to handle it. It's simply that we've managed to get this far in your schooling without drawing too much attention to your temperature. Now you're being sent home from school with a fever, and I'm worried what will happen if they try to take your temperature when we send you back."

Clark shrugged. "We'll do what we did when I was in sixth grade. I'll just suck on ice cubes until they stick the thermometer into my mouth. It's nothing we haven't dealt with before."

"I didn't realize that." He turned the truck into their driveway and cut the engine.

"When I was in sixth grade, for Christmas, we went to the retirement home on a field trip. It was one of those things where we were going to sing Christmas carols and we made cards and craft stuff. And we were all going to be assigned one of the people to eat cookies with and play games with while we visited. Since it was a really bad flu season, though, we all had to get our temperature taken before we could even get on the bus. And I was running hot that day, so it looked like I had a hundred and two point five degree temperature. They called Mom and sent me home. She sent me back the next day, but they took my temperature again since it'd been so high." Clark smiled, feeling guilty at the next part. "I remember sitting in the nurse's office and Mom came to pick me up. The nurse gave Mom a lecture about sending kids to school sick, and how I clearly needed to be in bed with lots of liquid and I should probably go to the doctor. I cried all the way home because I thought I got her in trouble."

"That's right," Jonathan said in recognition. "I remember that now. And I remember spending the rest of the day, trying to figure out how to trick the thermometer."

Clark nodded. "Mom kept me out of school the rest of the week, though. And, because it was the week before Christmas, I got a three week vacation. Except for the part where Mom gave me work to do. She always gave me a lot harder stuff to work on than I did at school." He sighed and leaned his head against the window again, eyes closed. "I wish she'd just home schooled me for my whole education. Never sent me to public school."

Jonathan squeezed his knee. "No you don't. You wouldn't have met Chloe then. Or gotten as close to Whitney. Or published the literary magazine, or been able to help even half the people you have." He squeezed his knee again, then opened the door. "Come on. The pipe under the sink is busted. Help me fix it."

"Yeah, okay." Clark grabbed his backpack and followed his dad into the house.

Martha was in the kitchen, lying face down on the floor.

"Martha!"

"Mom!" Clark dropped his backpack and was at his mother's side in a heartbeat. He rolled her over and dropped his ear to her mouth. "She's not breathing. Call 911," he ordered.

Heart pounding, Clark tilted his mother's head back. Plugged her nose and breathed two slow breaths into her mouth, watching her chest to make sure the air got in. Then he tilted his head again and checked for a pulse.

"Dad!" he snapped when he realized that Jonathan was just standing there, staring at them.

Jonathan jerked. Nodded. Stumbled across the kitchen to the phone.

Martha had a pulse. Clark sealed his mouth over hers again and breathed. Lifted his mouth. Counted. "One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three one-thousand. Four one-thousand." He breathed in. Sealed his mouth over hers and breathed again. Counted. Breathed. Counted. Breathed.

Clark had no idea how long he breathed for her before the ambulance showed up. He was just glad he was who he was, because his dad was paralyzed. He stood helplessly by and did nothing. Just looked at Clark while he breathed for his mother.

"All right, Clark. Come on, we've got her," someone said. They pulled at his body, pulling him away from Martha.

Clark blinked, dazed. His head spun, not from lack of breath, just... spun. The paramedic checked his pulse, talked to him. Asked questions. He answered, not knowing what he was saying.

"Clark, I'm going with your mother," Jonathan said as they loaded Mom into the ambulance. "Follow in the truck?"

He looked from the ambulance to his dad. Nodded.

Jonathan put his arms around Clark and squeezed him tight. "You're a good boy, Clark. You did real good." Squeezed him again, then climbed into the ambulance. It screamed down the road, away.

He didn't even remember coming outside. Didn't remember anything from the moment he started rescue breathing until now. He was running on instinct, and every limb shook with adrenaline, or whatever it was that ran through his alien blood.

With shaking hands, Clark pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

"Hello?" Lex answered.

"Mom just was taken to the hospital. I don't... she's not breathing, Lex."

"I'm coming to get you. You at home?"

"Yeah."

"Stay there. I'll be there soon." The line went dead.

Clark stared sightlessly ahead. He could hear the cows talking softly to one another. The wind blowing dirt and grass around. His heart thudding regularly in his chest. He knew the world existed around him in all it's pretty glory. But all he saw was his mother, stretched across kitchen tile. Her hair obscuring her face. Arm outstretched. Legs askew. The ashen quality of her skin. The slackness of her mouth. The heavy, sack-of-flour limpness of her body when he'd rolled her over.

"Hey. Angel, it's okay."

He blinked. Cool fingers were on his face, wiping away tears.

Lex's face swam into view.

"She wasn't breathing."

Lex nodded. "I know, angel. But the experts have her now. They're taking care of her." He kissed Clark gently on the lips. Took his hand and pulled him from the stairs. "Let's go to the hospital."

"I don't want her to die."

"We won't let her."

* * *

It was strange being in the hospital waiting room. The real waiting room for the ICU, not a room specially quarantined off for him to keep the media away. It was like Lex was a normal person, sitting with his family, waiting for news of a loved one.

Clark rubbed his mouth.

"Stop, angel," Lex said. He took Clark's hand and squeezed.

"What?" Clark looked at him out of eyes that didn't really see anything. He blinked, slowly, long, fully lashes obscuring bright blue for a moment before raising again.

"You keep rubbing your mouth. You're going to chafe it if you keep it up."

"No I won't. I'm me, remember?" Clark's lower lip extended. He looked down, then rubbed his lips again.

Lex took his other hand and pinned it against his leg. "Maybe," he said, voice low, although, right now, the only other person sitting in the waiting room was Jonathan, "you can damage yourself. There's a possibility that you're only indestructible against Earth objects. Your hand does not qualify. You keep rubbing, you'll eventually rub the skin raw."

Clark rolled his eyes.

"It's just a theory. One I'd rather you not test right now. Just keep your hands off them."

"I just keep feeling her," Clark said, voice a sob. "Her mouth. It was so cold. Slack. Kind of like clay or something." A tear formed at the corner of his eye. "And she just wouldn't breathe."

He didn't care. Didn't care that they were in public, that there were doctors and nurses and orderlies walking by. Didn't care that everyone could see them. They all knew anyway, and, if they didn't know, they wouldn't care anyway.

Lex put his arms around Clark and pulled him down. "I know," he whispered, stroking Clark's hair. "I know. But she's a fighter. You gave her a chance to fight, and she will fight this. Whatever this is."

"You did everything right, son," Jonathan said. He sat on the other side of Clark and, until now, hadn't really said anything. Just given Lex's hand a squeeze when he'd arrived with Clark, hugged Clark, and said they still didn't know anything.

"But she wasn't breathing."

"And you did it for her." Jonathan rubbed Clark's back. "Thank God you were there, Clark. I don't know what I would have done."

At least he was admitting his failure, Lex thought uncharitably. As they'd been driving to the hospital, Clark had told Lex what had happened. The part Lex had zeroed in on was that Jonathan had just stood there and done nothing. And while Lex really wasn't in a position to judge someone who'd frozen in a moment of panic, he couldn't help but do so. Because this was *Martha Kent* they were talking about, not Lionel Luthor. One did not hesitate to save an angel, just the devil.

But if Jonathan realized his mistake... if he felt regret for not acting, then it was okay.

"Mr. Kent?"

And, great. Helen was working on the case. Not that that was a bad thing, because she was a competent doctor. It was just Lex didn't want her anywhere near the Kents.

Jonathan rose. "Doctor Bryce? How's my wife?"

Helen's face was calmly professional. Not too worried, not too happy. The perfect face for delivering not so great news.

Her dark eyes flicked to Lex before returning to Jonathan. "The good news is that we've got her stabilized. She'd breathing on her own now."

"I don't understand. She was working outside all morning. She was fine. How did this happen so quickly?"

Helen shook her head. "My first guess is that we're dealing with some kind of toxin. I'll have a better idea after we finish the blood work."

Jonathan sighed. Rubbed his eyes. Glanced down at Lex and Clark.

Clark was sitting next to Lex, eyes on Helen. The tears and twitchiness from a moment before were gone, replaced by a solemn, concerned young man searching for any kind of good from his mother's doctor.

"What kind of toxin would she have run up against?" Clark asked. "We don't have chemical pesticides on our farm."

She shrugged. "I don't know. We're trying to find out, Clark. Right now we know just as much as you." She hesitated, then moved to sit next to Clark. "Clark, I want you to think very hard. When you were giving her mouth to mouth, did you taste anything funny? Any chemical taste? Anything bitter or metallic. Anything at all?"

Clark shook his head. Rubbed his mouth again.

"Okay." Helen smiled and patted him on the knee. "Well if you remember anything, please tell me." She rose. "I should get back."

"I'm staying here," Jonathan said.

"I'll have an orderly bring you some coffee." She smiled again and left.

Jonathan sat back down. "All right. I know you both want to be here, but unfortunately we've got a farm to run. Clark, Lex. I want you both to go home and do the evening chores. When you're done, get something to eat and bring it here. Mabel still works at the mansion, right?"

Lex nodded. "Dad suggested Lucas fire her, but she'd already cooked for him."

"Why don't you give her a call and ask her to set up a basket for us. Then you can come back and we'll all eat together. Maybe Mom will be awake by then."

Clark sighed, lower lip extending again. "Yeah, okay," he said. "But call us if anything changes?"

Jonathan nodded. "Of course."

They all stood. When they did, Jonathan pulled Clark into an embrace. "You did good, son. You did real good and I am so proud of you."

Clark clung to his father with a desperate air. "I love you, Dad."

He rumpled Clark's hair. "I love you, too, Clark." He kissed Clark quickly on the cheek, then stepped back. "All right. You go keep doing good. And come back soon." He squeezed Lex's shoulder.

Lex gave him a wan smile. Then he slipped his hand into Clark's. Together, they left the hospital.

"Do you want to drive?" Lex asked, pulling out his keys. It was a small consolation for two reasons. One, offering to drive even the coolest car in the world in no way took away the fact one's mother was ill. Two, the only car Lex owned right now was the car he'd bought for Clark. And Clark drove a truck all the time.

Despite the stupidity of the offer, Clark took the keys silently. They climbed into the truck and headed toward home.

"You okay?" Lex asked.

Clark snorted. "It's just been a crappy day."

"I met your new social worker. He was at the Talon, talking with Whitney." When Clark's eyes cut to him, Lex shook his head. "They were just talking. Whitney was reading a book on social work and it caught Hadley's interest. I talk with him a bit. He seems like a good guy."

"I guess." Clark licked his lips. "I fell asleep again. He was talking about me being on the stand. And I got overwhelmed and fell asleep. When they woke me up, they felt my forehead and said I was hot. The sent me home from school. And that's when we found Mom." He sighed. "If Dad hadn't had to pick me up, maybe this wouldn't have happened."

"Or maybe it would have, only you wouldn't have been there to give her mouth to mouth. I wouldn't start thinking about what could have happened. We just need to find out why she's sick."

"Yeah." He rubbed his mouth.

"What do you want for dinner?"

"Whatever."

Lex pulled out his cell phone and dialed Mabel's line.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Lex."

"Lex, thank God," Mabel said, sounding desperate. "You need to get over here. Something's wrong with your brother."

"What?" he asked, alarmed.

"I don't know. He came home about a half an hour ago with a group of people. I don't think he even knew all of them. It looks like he went to a local college and rounded up anyone he could find. They all were on the second floor, playing loud music and drinking. Playing video games, that sort of thing. Lucas demanded I make them snacks."

Lex grimaced. "Well, that sounds like the way I spent my time a few years ago. I know it's not..."

"No, Lex, you don't understand," Mabel interrupted. "I swear, I think Lucas is trying to kill himself. He's completely drunk and doing the stupidest things. He was using a skateboard to slide down the banister earlier. Now he's in the entertainment room. He's piled up all the pillows he could find and is jumping off the balcony."

"Jesus."

"Yes. Many of the people have left, but a few are still there, watching him. They're smoking marijuana in the entertainment room, and I think they're doing harder drugs, too."

"Crap. I'll... do what I can, but Martha Kent's in the hospital. Can you call Damien? He should be able to take care of it."

Mabel sighed. "I'll do that. What's wrong with Martha?"

"We don't know. She's in the ICU. I was hoping you could make up a basket for dinner for Jonathan and Clark."

"Of course. Just give me an hour?"

"I will. Thanks, Mabel." He hung up.

"What's wrong now?"

Lex sighed. Leaned his forehead against the window. "Lucas has gone crazy."

There was a pause. Then, "Figures."

"Oh?"

"Not that he'd go crazy. That he'd choose today."

"So, social worker, your mom, and Lucas. Think that's our three?"

Clark snorted. "Bad things don't come in threes for us, babe. We're not that lucky."

Comments

[roxymissrose.livejournal.com]

I'm aupposed to be working instead I'm reading knowing damn well that you suck me in like quicksand...very wonderful enjoyable quicksand.

[rosy5000.livejournal.com]

Poor Clark, Lex, and the Kents... when it rains, it pours!

[capnzebbie.livejournal.com]

Excellent! It's been such a long time--it's great to see this. And Clark is right--bad luck for them just hits the fan and splatters all over the place.

[danceswithgary]

I'm thrilled to see an update and I've caught up with the rest of 53 finally. This is a great section, I love the interaction with Whitney and Lex. Jonathan being taken down a peg always makes me happy too, because I'm like that. :-D

[andera.livejournal.com]

Yeah, a new update! Poor Clark and Lex, they never get a break.