A Good Name

by a campbell

Spoilers for S2, PG, Clark/Lex (implied)

Thanks to nerowill and fajrdrako for the beta assistance.

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A good name is better than precious ointment.
- Bible, Ecclesiasticus (ch. VII, v. 1)

A person with a bad name is already half-hanged
--Proverb

Clark heard his mother’s laugh as he trudged down the stairs. A warm, rich sound: she seemed so happy since coming home from the hospital. When he reached the foot of the stairs, his eyes widened in surprise.

New, glossy books, older, dog-eared books, seven or eight of them and all from the Smallville Public Library, were spread around the oak dining table. His father was sanding tools over a newspaper laid out on the far end, but his mother was intent on the printed page before her. Clark looked back as he poured himself a big glass of cold milk from the refrigerator and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. The big crunch finally caught Martha’s attention, and she looked up with a smile.

“Come on, Honey. Sit down and help us.” Martha shifted her seat over and pulled out the chair beside her to make room for Clark. “I told your father I thought it was too early for us to be picking out names, but he insisted.”

“Just to help your mother relax in the evenings,” Jonathan was still insisting. “And make it seem like this baby’s really going to happen.” Clark nodded and chuckled, not fooled in the least. It was obvious that, of the three of them, Jonathan was the most excited of all about this baby, however gruffly he might try to hide it.

“Sure, Dad.” Clark’s smile faded as he saw a shadow pass over his mother’s face at his dad’s comment, and as he sat down at the table, he leaned over to put a hand on hers.

“Ignore him, Mom,” he soothed, kneading her hand and slipping his free arm around her shoulder. “We won’t jinx anything. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Martha smiled and leaned over to give him a quick kiss.

Clark was just relieved that his mom hadn’t slammed the book shut and shoved it under the table the moment he came downstairs. She seemed to be constantly worried these days that he’d feel left out or jealous if they so much as mentioned the coming baby around him. He’d caught her frowning at Jonathan, shushing him when he started talking about turning the extra bedroom into a nursery or hauling down and varnishing the cradle that was up in the attic. And it wasn’t that bad, not like he was going to be really traumatized, or anything. Sure, he knew he was basically pretty spoiled and used to being the Big Cheese in the Kent family, so this was all an adjustment, especially since there was still the general announcement to get through. That would be both kind of fun and mostly weird.

He was trying daily and valiantly to steel himself in advance for all the jokes he was positive were in his imminent future and the ribbing he was going to get from people like Pete and Chloe about having to change diapers and babysit on home-game evenings. Lana would probably just think it was sweet and offer to make popcorn while they watched the baby together. They were all going to be astounded that Clark would finally be getting a brother or sister after reaching age seventeen as an only child. Maybe almost as shocked as he was. Somehow he didn’t think Lex would be as surprised as the rest of them. Lex was hard to astonish. He was more...worldly, and would understand about things like older people still wanting to have sex (Clark cringed) and miracles caused by alien ships. Whoa. Maybe not.

He was snapped back to attention by the droop of his mom’s head, and her uneasy sigh. And, again, he made it his duty to reassure her.

“And no way is it too early for us to be doing this,” he said. “You’re starting to show. Pretty soon we’ll not only be able to tell everyone. We’ll have to!”

“Hmm…” Martha ducked her head, seeming just a little embarrassed, and began flipping the pages of one of the books as though too shy to begin.

Clark to the rescue. He fumbled for a laminated paperback, The New American Dictionary of Baby Names. He frowned at the cover with its parade of diapered infants from numerous ethnic groups. And, of course, looked up his own name first. He read:

“Old English. Transferred use of the surname, which indicated an ancestor who was a cleric, scholar, or secretary. Modern use of the first name almost entirely due to the influence of the actor Clark Gable (1901-1960), king of Hollywood for nearly thirty years.” He blinked. “Is that true, Mom? You named me ‘Clark’ because you had a crush on Clark Gable?”

“Clark, don’t be silly. You know ‘Clark’ was my maiden name.”

“Oh, yeah. But that’s not as much fun as being named after ‘The King’!”

“I don’t suppose,” Martha chuckled.

Jonathan sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Clark. I believe we were picking out a name for your brother or sister? Save looking up your own name for later.”

“Jonathan!” Martha shot him a grieved, panicked glare across the table.

“It’s okay, Mom,” Clark knew how weary Jonathan must be, still worn out from the stress of Mom’s stay in the hospital, on top of running the farm, from which there was never a vacation. “I’ll deal. How about this one?” Clark read the title aloud: What NOT to Name Your Baby. Well, someone has a sense of humor.”

His father took a sip of his coffee. “Maybe we shouldn’t bother with that one.”

But Clark was leafing through pages and pages of names, reading here about “’Herschel.’ A great American chocolate bar, with or without nuts,” and there about, “’Ashley’: the pretty Judd.”, alternately snorting with laughter and commenting, “This is great.” Suddenly, he stopped short. “Listen to this.”

“’Chloe’. A name commonly used by lesbian couples for their firstborn.”

Dead silence in the room. Jonathan coughed on another swallow of coffee and set his mug down on the table, not looking at either Martha or Clark.

Clark couldn’t resist. He leaned daringly over the tables and raised his eyebrows. “So that means Gabe Sullivan is a dyke?”

“Clark!” his mother sounded really shocked.

“Clark!” his father barked immediately after. “We don’t use terms like that in this house!”

“I’m just reading...” he protested. Couldn’t his parents ever have the slightest sense of humor, for Pete’s sake? “Stupid book,” he grumbled, tossing it down and reaching for another, The New Age Baby Name Book.

“Kyla,” Clark felt a brief twinge of sadness at the memory of the girl he’d loved so briefly, and still missedl. a“Hmm. This one says ‘Kyla’ is a Yiddish name. Is there such a thing as a Jewish Native American? I don’t think Professor Willowbrook is Jewish, is he?”

“It could be a Yiddish name OR an Indian name, Clark. A name that simple would occur in various cultures. Just depends on which book you’re reading.”

“Native American, Jonathan,” Martha reminded him . “They aren’t called ‘Indians’ any more.”

“Years of Roy Rogers, Wagon Train and Daniel Boone…Old habits die hard, Martha,” Jonathan affirmed with a grin and a shrug.

Martha’s response was an amused sigh of exasperation.

Clark was still browsing from one page to the next. “Acacia,” he continued. “For a girl. Acacia Kent. Yuck.”

Jonathan shook his head grimly as he sped up the pace of his sanding. “Let’s pass on that one.”

“Tina.” Clark shuddered. “Please, God, not Tina.”

“No,” Martha agreed, turning a little pale at the memory.

Clark turned the page hastily and read on. “’Ryan’ is Irish Gaelic.” He looked up at his parents, marking his place in the book with a fingertip. “This book says it means ‘little king.’ But this book here says it’s just a variation of ‘Bryan.’ Which book are we supposed to we believe?” He turned his beseeching gaze on Martha as though she had all the answers in the world.

“I’m not sure,” said Martha with a thoughtful frown. “Check on the back and see who wrote each book, and what their qualifications are.

“What do you have to have a degree in: a nameology?” Clark looked on the back of one book, then another, but saw nothing to enlighten him. One author was “America’s leading baby name expert” but the blurb didn’t say why, and another proclaimed its expert “one of the world’s foremost authorities on proper names,” and a third author, they didn’t say anything about at all. How do you get to be an expert on names? Clark wondered. And did you have to have a day job, too?

“Lilias,” his mother was reading, “Isn’t that lovely? Lilith, Lily, Lillian—“

“Lillian. That was Lex’s mother’s name,” Clark offered dreamily. “Lillian Kent. Pretty, huh? We could call her Lily for short.”

“Poor woman,” Martha murmured, glancing at Jonathan.

There was silence for a moment. Martha and Clark waited.

“No,” Jonathan shook his head. “We are not naming a child of ours after one of the Luthors, and that’s final. Even Mrs. Luthor, nice as she was. There are plenty of other suitable names in the world.”

More silence for a moment. Martha flipped a couple of pages.

Clark got up to refill his milk glass and grab an oatmeal cookie from the jar and continued casually. “I guess ‘Alexander,’ is out, then, too, if it’s a boy?”

This earned a bearlike grumble from Jonathan, and an “over my dead body” look aimed straight at Clark and then at Martha. Clark whistled, low, as he swiped the milk mustache from his mouth with a flannel-clad wrist. “It goes okay with Kent!” he insisted with a shrug and an angelic grin, even though he knew he’d lost, and took a gigantic bite of his cookie, dreamily picturing the baby as a successful writer of sailing novels.

Jonathan just shook his head.

Too bad, thought Clark. He really meant it. He’d like to have a brother like Lex: brilliant and generous, sophisticated and cool. A good friend and companion…but not quite as close as he and Lex were, he thought with a blush. He took another swig of milk and picked up the last remaining book in the stack: Dictionary of First Names: More that 10,000 Names for Boys and Girls and--he had to do it--thumbed through the pages to see if “Lex” was there.

It was.

“Lex. From the Greek, meaning “a word, vocabulary.” Well, that seemed to fit. Lex did like to talk, expound on things, use words Clark had never heard before. So maybe it was the perfect name for him.

“Lexington is a variant form. Contemporary Example: Lex Hixon, author.”

Clark wondered what kind of books that guy wrote, and resolved to look him up on the internet or at the library.

“Place-name usage: Lexington, Kentucky; Lexington, England (now spelled Laxton).”

Now, who in the world would name a kid after Lexington, Kentucky? Clark thought with a snort. Parents-to-be could certainly lose their common sense.

He reached for another book. This one was in the New Age book, too. And, again, the definitions were completely different from each other.

“’Lex. Short form of Alexander. ‘Helper and defender of mankind.’ See Alexander.”

The words gave him a warm glow inside. I really like that, thought Clark. But boy, what a vast difference between “a word, vocabulary” and “helper and defender of mankind.”

Well, unfortunately, knowing his dad, Lex and Alexander were both out. Clark decided to pull out all the stops and get crazy.

“How about something Russian?” he said expansively. “Dmitri, Vladimir…Vladimir Kent.”

Martha sat dazed. “Why Russian?” she asked.

“I like Russian names.”

“Too elaborate,” countered Jonathan.

“But, Sweetheart,” Martha turned to her husband. “With a simple surname like ‘Kent,’ you can afford to get a little fancier with the first name. Otherwise, it sounds too plain.”

“Yeah. You got really fancy with ‘Clark.’ Clark remarked with a rueful chuckle. “Maybe we should lose the books. For definitions, anyway. They don’t seem to be helping much.”

“I think we need to get more organized,” Jonathan suggested. “Let’s just focus on ordinary, everyday names.”

“That might not work, either, Dad,” said Clark. “People just keep using the same names over and over. There are, like, a zillion Jennifers and Jessicas at school. Not to mention Joshuas.”

“It doesn’t have to be a name that has been done to death. Just a good, solid name.”

“Family names?” said Clark.

“Good idea, Clark. How about Hiram, after your father, Jonathan?” Martha suggested.

Jonathan shook his head. “No.” Martha sighed again.

“I’m sure Grandpa was really great,” Clark ventured. “But I wouldn’t do that to a kid. It sounds like an old guy’s name. How about ‘William,’ after your father, Mom?”

Another sigh, another glance at Jonathan. “I don’t think so,” Martha replied.

“There’s always Gene,” suggested Jonathan. “That one never did get used.”

“It’s a nice name,” said Martha. “But it’s one of those names that, when you say it or if you just hear it, it’s hard to tell if it’s male or female.”

“What about ‘Hannah’, Grandma Kent’s name?” Clark suggested.

“Hannah,” Jonathan repeated in a quiet voice.

“Beautiful. That would be perfect for a girl,” said Martha.

Clark grabbed the top book on the stack and thumbed through it. “This book says it means, ‘graceful.’ You don’t talk much about her, Dad. Why not?”

“Too many memories, Son,” Jonathan said.

“Well, I like that name for a girl.”

“So do I,” said Martha.

Martha and Clark waited, eager gazes on Jonathan.

“I don’t know…” said Jonathan after a pause. “How about after a friend of the family? What about the name, ‘Lana’? She’s been a good friend to you, Clark.”

Clark cleared his throat and suffered through an awkward, embarrassed silence for a moment. He shook his head, not meeting his parents’ eyes. “No.

"Somehow, that doesn't seem like a good idea," his mother supported him. “Maybe we should try this again tomorrow,” Martha closed the book she was holding and slumped back in her chair in defeat. “We don’t seem to be getting very far this evening.” She put her palm to her mouth to mask a yawn and turned to Clark. “You’d better get to bed soon, Sweetheart. School tomorrow, after all.”

Clark was slowly stacking the books in a neat pile. “If we knew for sure whether this was going to be a boy or a girl, it would be easier,” he said plaintively. “We could really narrow it down. Mom, couldn’t you let Doctor—“

“No,” Martha held up her hand, adamant. “No amniocentesis, no ultrasounds, no tests whatsoever unless absolutely necessary.”

“Darn,” said Clark. “How can we know what to get ready for, then? Pink, or Blue?”

“Yellow,” said Martha.

“Sugar and Spice or Frogs and Snails?” Jonathan chuckled, putting his sander back in the box.

“Barbie Dolls or Hot Wheels?” wondered Clark.

“I know we aren’t supposed to find out, but you never really said what you wanted, Mom.” Clark was almost afraid to ask his dad, because it had always been just the two of them for guy stuff like basketball games and fishing trips, and if dad said he was hoping for a boy, well…

“Well,” A thoughtful pause before Martha answered. “I already have the most wonderful son in the world. So it will either be something new, exciting and different with a girl, or the same great, wonderful known quantity with another boy.”

Clark’s eyes widened with surprise. “Wait a minute, Mom. Are you saying I’m a ‘known quantity’? and that he’ll be just like me?”

It was a moment before Martha responded. “I guess that’s a pretty ridiculous idea, isn’t it? That proves I’m overtired and should get to bed, myself!” She pushed the book away and rose.

Clark nodded soberly before bursting into laughter that was still a little uneasy; he couldn’t help it. This was all a big adjustment, after all. And he wasn't totally sure that his parents would feel that positive about having another child with his abilities, when it came right down to it.

Martha looked down at him as though divining the blend of thoughts and feelings coursing through him, and bent to give him a hug. “Oh, Sweetheart…”

Jonathan smiled, then chuckled as he reached out to ruffle Clark’s hair.

“Son. What your mother said about already having the best son in the world? She’s absolutely right.”

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