Crossroads - Chapter 12

by a campbell

Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, PG-13

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Saturday afternoon. The farm always looked so fair in the spring, and being without its master for the first time in decades didn’t seem to make a difference in that. Martha looked out over the fields, taking a deep breath of fresh air.

Newborn calves still trotted across the paddock, hens still laid as they had every year since Martha had arrived at the farm a bride. Seedlings sprouted in the earth, trees budded. Seasons passed, with new births, and deaths. An eternal pattern, oblivious to life changes, neutral and comforting at the same time.

With senatorial duties demanding more of her time every week, Martha enjoyed the mindless, peaceful routine of farm and household chores now on her Saturdays off. Nothing could fill the void of Jonathan’s permanent absence, and she missed her son, too, but she was out of town so much, and with so many people day in, day out on a regular week, that being alone for a weekend now and then gave her a chance to ground herself.

Her thoughts turned to Clark as she trudged in from the barn with a bucket of fresh eggs. Clark was happy with the man he loved. He was going to be a parent soon. And she...well, she had to get used to being on her own, wherever she was, at the farm, or in Washington, D.C.

Maybe Clark and Lex could both come for dinner tomorrow afternoon, if there were no business demands to interfere. She would be in some need of some company by then, and a change of scene might do both boys good as well.

But when Martha entered the farmhouse, she had to realign her thinking

Clark was in the kitchen, stuffing wool sweaters and heavy socks into his duffel bag with grim determination. Martha felt the welcoming smile fade from her face.

"I’m leaving," Clark declared, not looking at her.

Martha’s thoughts raced. Leaving? But he’d already moved out--

"Sweetheart—what..." Martha scrambled for words. "What’s happened?"

"I have to get away."

"But--"

"From Smallville. From Kansas. From everything." Clark’s voice broke, and he bowed his head. Finally, he turned to her, a look of such bleak misery on his face that that Martha was frightened.

Her heart and spirit sank together. She’d feared something like this from the day he’d left home six weeks ago.

"I found Lana at the mansion and tried to talk to her. She wouldn’t listen to me, not to a word I said."

"Honey, stop. Sit down, just for a minute." Martha pulled at one of the counter stools. "Try to get hold of yourself."

Clark hesitated, glanced down at his watch, then at the porch door. "Okay, but only for a minute." He sat down and folded his hands before him on the table.

"If what she says is true, Lex isn’t going to leave her." Clark took a deep breath, letting it out in a heavy sigh. "So I’m the one that has to go."

"Oh, Sweetheart," Martha put an arm around him and drew him close. "You told Lana about your relationship with Lex. And about the baby." She’d brooded so on that conversation, had worried and prayed for her son every day since he left, hoped against hope that it would go well, knowing all the while that the chance was slim.

"I didn’t get that far. Mom, please don’t ask me to talk about it, now. I just can’t."

"Whatever you want, Sweetheart." She knew better than to push Clark when he was in a mood like this. Jonathan had been the same way.

"I have to get away from here, from this town, get some time alone to think and figure things out."

"For how long?" Martha tried to ignore the growing spread of desolation through her chest and stomach. At least at the manor, he’d been close by, these past weeks. Now--

"As long as it takes." Clark hefted the bag to his shoulder, then hesitated. He looked over at his mother, swallowed hard, and began to speak again, the words spilling out.

"I realized all at once while she was talking--or rather, screaming--at me, that it was all wrong. My being at the mansion, living alone in a separate suite, waiting for an hour’s visit from Lex all the while he was spending the bulk of his time with her. I can’t take his help any longer, not unless he makes a commitment to me. As long as Lana’s in his house, and in his life, that’s impossible." He looked away, jaw setting in determination. "I can’t see a future for us without it."

"A commitment," Martha repeated, slowly shaking her head. My poor boy. "Oh, Clark...you may be asking too much."

"Right now, it looks as though that will never happen." Martha heard the quaver in Clark’s voice, saw the sag of his shoulders. "I don’t know why I ever thought that arrangement could work. I guess I was desperate, and grasping at straws. And because I wanted it to work, so badly, Mom. I wanted us to be together...but I’m done with all that."

Martha stepped close and put a hand on Clark’s shoulder. "Honey, have you discussed any of this with Lex?"

"No," Clark’s voice was clipped. "I can’t. Not now, anyway. Not yet. And I can’t stay here, because this is the first place he’ll look for me."

She thinned her lips in distress. "But, Sweetheart, where will you go?"

Clark took a deep breath, and said grimly, "Where he won’t be able to find me."

Martha looked down at the warm clothes that filled Clark's bag as he struggled with the zipper. "The Fortress," she said grimly.

"Maybe if I go up there and just wait, Jor-el will talk to me this time, somehow. Tell me why this is all happening to me, and what I should do about it."

Martha shook her head slowly, gazed at him beseechingly. "Your visits to him never end well, Clark. Just keep that in mind. And you have to think of your health, and the baby's--"

"I know, Mom. Why else do you think I’m doing this? If I stayed there much longer--" Clark broke off with a grimace of frustration and looked away, biting his lip.

"The tests—the medication they were giving you at the mansion. Can you--"

Clark slammed the refrigerator door a little too hard. "I don’t trust them either any more. No more tests." He gave her a half-hearted smile as she pushed him gently aside and slipped bottled water and cereal bars into his already overstuffed bag. "For myself, I don’t care, but I don’t want green meteor rocks anywhere near the baby. Not any more." Clark took a deep breath and spoke with steady determination. "Sink or swim, Mom. I’m either going to have this baby on my own, without tests, without kryptonite…or die trying."

Before Martha could respond, the phone rang. Clark started and his gaze darkened.

"Don’t answer it," he snapped. But she was already lifting the receiver to her ear. She shook her head at her son and held a finger to her lips.

"Hello, Lex...no, I haven’t. He’s not there with you?"

A pause. Martha watched Clark, who was fidgeting uneasily, holding his breath.

"I don’t know. A couple of days ago, in the afternoon. No, he didn’t."

Clark frowned and shook his head, then mouthed: Don’t tell him I’m here.

Martha listened.

"Of course I will. You do the same. Let me know if you hear anything."

She slowly placed the receiver back in its cradle and turned back to her son.

"He didn’t believe me," she said, dully. "I could tell. If you’re leaving, you’d better go now."

Clark shouldered his bag and nodded.

Martha stepped back over to her son, pulled his jacket straight and down over the small bulge of his stomach and reached out to pull him into a hug as tears gathered in her eyes. "Stay safe, Sweetheart," she whispered, running a hand through his coarse locks. "I’ll be thinking of you every day. You’ll have a home here whenever you’re ready to come back. You know I’m strong enough to keep both of you safe, whatever Lex, Lana or Jor-el try to do. It’s the Irish in me."

She savored the warmth of his body as he returned the embrace. "Bye, Mom. I’ll stay in touch as best I can. Try not to worry about me. Remember: I’ve always come home before."

"I know. And when you do, I’ll be waiting." Martha noticed how mature her son sounded, the deep, new timber in his voice, and thought wistfully: why, he’s practically a man, now.

Martha opened the screen door and followed Clark out onto the porch. What a fine afternoon, she couldn’t help thinking again despite her distress, new grass blanketing the surrounding meadows with a mist of green. The beauty of the surrounding countryside sent a pang through her heart.

“Bye,” Clark bent to kiss her cheek, then looked off, following her gaze around at the yard, over at the barn and off across the fields. He hesitated, almost seeming as though he wanted to say something more, then turned away, paused, and vanished in a blip of speed. Martha saw the wheat part in the north field and the track disappear off in the distance, all the way to the horizon.

Martha stood looking after him. She turned to go back into the house, realizing that her plans for Sunday would now have to be re-worked.

Perhaps Jor-el had stopped speaking to Clark because he wanted him to find his own answers now.

She only hoped he would.

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