It's not an S // Superman

Chapter 8

After the death of Jonathan Kent I was right in saying things would never be the same again. Within an hour of what happened all of the Tornado survivors including Clark, Mrs Kent and myself were taken to the nearest hospital to be assessed and seen to.

Clark and his Mom were ushered away to discuss what had happened and the next steps whilst the injury to my leg was taken care of. None of us had said a word the whole journey from the scene of the tragedy to where we now were. What did you say in a situation like that? It was unbelievable. It felt like a nightmare.

After having 15 stitches in my leg and a heavy dose of pain killers I went against the physician's advice to rest and set off around the hospital in search of the Kent's. Stopping after a few minutes I spotted a public phone up ahead and decided to call my Dad. The second I heard his voice I broke down in sobs.

I managed to compose myself enough to tell him what had happened and once I was done Dad was in full military mode. What I hadn't known at the time was that before the Tornado had even occurred Dad had gone against my wishes to stay at the base and had already begun making arrangements to leave his post and return to protect me in Smallville.

In the days that followed my Dad, along with military he had brought in and town officials started the clean up and repair on the areas that had been most affected. I'd never been prouder of him. In the days Clark lost his father I found mine and that was a hard balance to juggle. This is where we hit the first stage of the grief process, anger.

Dad thought that it would be wise I stayed away from the Kent house for a few days so they had a chance to come to terms with what had happened, just the two of them. I reluctantly agreed, wanting nothing more than to stay by Clark's side. What I would do or say if I were in that situation still being a mystery.

After 5 days I made the decision to drive over to the farm and see if there was anything I could do. Dad had been informed that the funeral was being prepared and I wanted them to know I was there if they needed my help.

When I arrived in front of the house the first thing I spotted was Mrs Kent through the window. She was washing dishes, but she was doing it in such a meticulous way you could tell it was just a distraction and not something she actually wanted or even needed to do.

Not entirely sure how I was going approach knocking on the door and having to think of something to say I was distracted by a thunder like crash coming from inside the barn.

I slowly walked over and without even needing to look I knew who I would find. Stood with his back to me was Clark, left hand clasped tightly around a wrench as he looked on at a car he and his Dad had been working on.

"I know you're there Lauren, you can talk you know," Clark snapped, not even making a turn to look in my direction.

"I don't know what to say. What do you want me to say to you?" I asked. Somewhat taken aback by his reaction to me being there. I knew he was grieving, but I'd never seen this side to him before.

"Tell me it was all a dream? That my Dad didn't really die? Or tell me that I didn't just stand there and watch whilst he was ripped away from me? Oh no wait you can't do that. No one can," he voiced through gritted teeth, looking at me with blood shot eyes for the first time.

"Clark?" I teared up, not knowing how to take this from him.

"What?" He responded, bounding right up to me so we were only centimetres apart.

"Clark I get it, you're angry, you're grieving..."

"You don't get anything. You know nothing," he shouted right at me. He was trying to push me away. I knew the signs. I'd done exactly the same thing and I wasn't about to let him succeed. If I had to shout back I would.

"Believe me Clark I get it, I know. You're forgetting that I lost my Mom. I've been through this too," I loudly verbalised with salty streams escaping my eyes.

"And you know what, when she died Dad threw himself into work, I had nothing, I had nobody. You do. You've got a Mom in there who loves you, who needs you. And you've got me." Clark said nothing, just stood there now facing the floor.

"What happened to your Dad is not your fault. He sacrificed himself to save you, to save all of us. Be proud that you can call him yours. You can scream, you can shout, you can do or say whatever you want but Clark Kent I'm not giving up on you and I'm never going to."

"I don't want to push you away," he whispered, this time sounding calmer.

"Well then don't. I'm here Clark. I'm right here," I answered, moving quickly to separate the distance that had grown between us, cupping his face in my hands and forcing him to look at me.

"You should go," Clark broke, our eyes momentarily locked on each other.

"What?"

"It'll be safer for you, better for us if you just stay away for a few days, weeks. Just for now, just til I get through this anger," he voiced sincerely, not taking his eyes off me.

"If that's what you want, that's what I'll do," I responded almost inaudibly hugging myself to his chest as I felt the tension in his body begin to subside.

"I don't want any of this, but this is how it's got to be if I can even think of getting through. I need to look after my Mom, she's my main priority and I can't watch over her when I'm like this. I've got stuff I need to deal with," his voice breaking.

Without responding I moved away, just far enough to see his face and without another thought placed my lips on his cheek, the kiss letting him know that I understood.

I gave him one last look, a nod of the head and without any further delay got back into my car and drove away. If this was how Clark needed to deal with things, then I had to go along with it, no matter how much it ripped me apart inside.

A week later it was the funeral of Mr Jonathan Kent, a funeral for a man that had not only touched my life but the lives of so many in his small town. I hadn't spoken to Clark since that day in the barn and I had no idea how he or I would react to seeing each other, but I had to be there.

"Dad you really don't have to come. I know you hate funerals," I suggested, standing with my father in our small living room as I adjusted the tie on the only black suit he owned.

"Lauren, the Kent's kept you alive that day. If it wasn't for them it could have been your funeral we'd all be going to today," his chin quivering when he said it. I hadn't seen him like this since Mom passed away.

"Sorry to say General but you're stuck with me for a long time to come," I tried to smile, sadness filling it as I did so.

Mrs Kent and Clark had decided that rather than have a funeral in a church they would do it where Mr Kent was to be buried, his favourite spot on the farm, a hill top where a tree stood looking out over the whole town.

When Dad and I arrived at the location all we could see in front of us was a sea of black. Black suits, black coats, black umbrellas. Memories of the last time I'd been in this situation came flooding back to me and I dreaded to think of how Clark would be feeling right now.

Approaching the crowd of mourners we took our spot as the preacher began reading bible excerpts and poems that Mrs Kent had personally chosen for the occasion. My eyes fixed on the scene in front of me. Clark stood, shoulders hunched and hair soaked from the rain alongside his distraught mother. I watched as she clung to him for support, for comfort. She cried silent sobs as the service stretched on and Clark just stood there, no tears, no nothing. He was holding it together for her, she needed him. She held to him, both hands gripping on to one of his arms for dear life and as I looked across his body, his free arm just hanging there lifeless I knew what I had to do. Without saying a word I moved silently from one side of the congregation to the other, not coming to a stop until I was standing at Clark's side. I didn't look at him, didn't make a sound but what I did do spoke a thousand words. I reached over, placed my hand on his and just waited. He didn't have to reciprocate, he didn't even have to acknowledge what I'd done, but when I felt his fingers intertwine with mine and grip on I knew I'd done the right thing.

Clark needed someone to support him. Clark needed me.