Smallville, Kansas - January 2002
The winter sun crept over the horizon, painting the snow-covered Kent family farm in shades of pale gold and rose. Martha Kent stood at her kitchen window, coffee cup warming her hands against the January chill. Through the frosted glass, she watched Jonathan in the barn, going about his morning routine just as he had every day for the past three years since Clark left to find himself.
The past few years had brought changes to the farm. Jonathan had finally modernized some of their equipment, reluctantly accepting that without Clark's help, certain concessions to technology were necessary. The new tractor, bought with Martha's increased income from her expanding organic pie business, had been a particular point of pride. Her pies, now sold in stores across three counties, had helped ease the financial burden of running the farm with just the two of them.
Krypto lay on his heated bed near the kitchen stove, his white fur as pristine as ever despite being the same age as Clark - twenty-one years old. Like his Kryptonian companion, he showed no signs of aging beyond his prime. The loyal dog had become even more protective of Martha and Jonathan in Clark's absence, as if understanding his role as guardian had become even more crucial.
Over the past three years, Krypto had developed an almost supernatural sense for when either Martha or Jonathan needed comfort. On nights when Martha couldn't sleep, worried about Clark's safety in some distant part of the world, Krypto would pad silently into their bedroom and rest his head on her lap. When Jonathan's old war injury acted up during cold spells, the dog would stay close, his higher-than-normal body temperature providing welcome warmth.
Martha's eyes drifted to the collection of postcards on the refrigerator - a visual timeline of Clark's journey across the world. Mexico, Guatemala, Brazil, Kenya, Egypt, India, Tibet, Russia - each card contained carefully chosen words that told them he was safe while revealing little that might raise suspicion if intercepted. They had learned to read between the lines, to understand the deeper meaning behind simple phrases like "the views here are breathtaking" or "the local customs are fascinating."
The cards had become fewer and farther between after September 11th. The last one, postmarked from somewhere in the Arctic Circle, had arrived in late September with a simple message: "I think I've found what I was looking for." They hadn't heard from him since, though Martha believed in her heart that the silence meant something significant was happening. The crystal they'd found in Clark's ship all those years ago had been pulsing with increasing frequency before he left - perhaps it had finally led him to whatever it was meant to reveal.
These past few months of silence had been difficult, but they'd grown used to finding comfort in small routines. Jonathan would listen to the morning news while fixing equipment in the barn, alert for any stories that might involve their son. Martha had taken to baking more than ever, her kitchen becoming a kind of meditation space where she could focus on creating rather than worrying. The orders for her pies had increased so much that she'd had to hire help - though she was careful to do all the special orders herself, not trusting anyone else with her secret recipes.
The community had changed too. Pete Ross had graduated from Kansas State and returned to Smallville to work in his father's law firm. He still stopped by regularly to check on them, never directly mentioning Clark but always lingering a bit longer than necessary, as if hoping his best friend might suddenly appear. Lana Lang, now in her junior year at Metropolis University studying journalism, called every few weeks from the city. Her voice always held a special warmth when she asked if they'd heard from "their traveler."
The sound of boots on the porch announced Jonathan's return from the barn. He entered, stamping snow from his feet, his breath visible in the cold morning air. "Truck's all warmed up," he said, moving to the coffee pot. "Thought I might drive into town later, pick up those parts Ben ordered for us." He didn't need to mention that these trips to town had become more frequent since Clark left, both of them finding comfort in staying connected to the community that had protected their secret for so long.
Martha was pulling a fresh batch of muffins from the oven - baking helped calm her nerves on mornings when the silence felt particularly heavy - when she noticed Krypto's behavior change. The dog's ears perked up suddenly, his entire body tensing with alertness. After twenty-one years, they knew this reaction well - Krypto's enhanced hearing picking up something far beyond human perception.
Then his tail began wagging with increasing enthusiasm, and he let out a series of excited barks that Martha hadn't heard since Clark left. It wasn't his usual bark - this was the special sound he reserved for only one person in all the world.
"Jonathan!" she called out, her heart beginning to race. "Jonathan, come quick!"
Her husband appeared from the mudroom, wiping his hands on a shop rag. "What is it, Martha?" Then he saw Krypto's excitement and understood. The dog only acted this way for one person.
They rushed onto the porch just as a familiar figure touched down gently in the snow-covered farmyard. Clark stood there, backpack over one shoulder, looking both exactly the same and completely different. He'd grown even taller, his frame filled out with lean muscle. His face was tanned despite the months in the Arctic, and his eyes held a new depth of wisdom that spoke of more than just his travels - there was knowledge there now, understanding of things beyond Earth. But his smile - that was exactly as they remembered it, the same sweet expression that had won their hearts when they'd found him in that cornfield twenty-one years ago.
"Hi Mom, hi Dad," he said softly. "I'm home."
Martha was moving before he finished speaking, crossing the distance between them in seconds. Clark caught her in a gentle embrace, careful even now to control his strength. Jonathan joined them a moment later, his strong arms encircling them both. For a long moment, they simply held each other, three years of separation dissolving in the warmth of family love.
Krypto bounded around them in circles, unable to contain his joy. When they finally separated, Clark knelt down to greet his faithful companion. The dog nearly knocked him over with enthusiasm, covering his face with kisses while his tail wagged fast enough to create a breeze.
"I missed you too, boy," Clark laughed, ruffling the white fur. "Have you been taking good care of Mom and Dad for me?"
"He hasn't left the farm once since you've been gone," Jonathan said, his voice thick with emotion. "Like he knew you'd come back here first."
Martha couldn't stop touching Clark's face, his shoulders, his arms, reassuring herself that he was really there. "You've grown so much," she said softly. "And there's something different about you - something in your eyes."
Clark nodded, understanding what she meant. "I found it, Mom. What I was looking for. Or maybe it found me." He glanced toward the storm cellar. "There's so much I need to tell you both."
"And we want to hear everything," Martha assured him, wiping happy tears from her eyes. "But first, you're going to sit down and have a proper breakfast. I just pulled fresh muffins from the oven, and I bet you haven't had a home-cooked meal in months."
Clark's smile widened. "Actually, I could smell them from about five miles out. It's part of what guided me home - that and Krypto's heartbeat."
They moved inside, where Martha immediately began pulling out all Clark's favorite breakfast foods. As she cooked, Clark told them about his last few months of travel, filling in the gaps that his postcards had left. Jonathan sat at the table, occasionally reaching over to squeeze his son's shoulder, as if reassuring himself that Clark was really there.
"So," Clark said, after finishing his third stack of pancakes, "tell me about everyone. How's Pete doing? Mom mentioned in one of her letters that he was studying law."
Martha nodded, sitting down with her own coffee. "He graduated from Kansas State last spring - top of his class. He's working with his father now, learning the family business. He stops by at least once a week to check on us." She smiled knowingly. "Always seems to find some excuse to ask if we've heard from you."
"Pete Ross, Esquire," Clark chuckled, shaking his head. "Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He always did love arguing his point, even in kindergarten." His expression grew more thoughtful. "And... Lana?"
Jonathan and Martha exchanged a quick glance that didn't escape Clark's notice. "She's doing very well," Martha said carefully. "Junior year at Metropolis University. She's editor of the college paper now."
"Following her dreams," Clark said softly, a mix of pride and something else in his voice. "She always said she wanted to be a journalist."
"She calls to check on us too," Jonathan added. "Every few weeks. Never fails to ask about our 'world traveler.'" He studied his son's face. "She's dated a few times, but nothing serious. I think... well, I think part of her is still waiting, even though she'd never admit it."
Clark nodded, processing this information. "I've thought about her a lot," he admitted. "About all of you. Even in the fortress these past few months, learning about Krypton, my heritage... my heart was often here."
"Tell us about your travels," Martha encouraged, sensing he needed a change of subject. "Your postcards could only say so much."
Clark's eyes lit up. "It was incredible, Mom. Every place I visited taught me something different." He leaned forward, warming to the subject. "In Mexico, I worked with these amazing farmers who knew things about agriculture that modern science is only starting to understand. They taught me about companion planting, about reading the weather in ways that even my enhanced senses hadn't picked up on."
"That would explain why you knew that drought was coming last summer," Jonathan said. "Your letter warning us to adjust our planting schedule saved half the crops."
"The indigenous people I stayed with in Brazil showed me how to really listen to the rainforest - not just with super-hearing, but with understanding. They could tell when something was wrong with the ecosystem just by noticing small changes in animal behavior." Clark's expression grew more serious. "I helped them fight against illegal logging, though not directly. We documented everything, got the word out to environmental groups. It taught me that sometimes the best way to help isn't with strength, but with truth."
Martha reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "You wrote those articles about the rainforest destruction. I recognized your style, even under the pseudonym."
Clark nodded. "I had to be careful, but I couldn't just watch it happen. The same in Africa - there were poachers threatening elephant herds in Kenya. I couldn't just swoop in and stop them, but I could make sure their guns misfired, their vehicles broke down at crucial moments." He smiled slightly. "The local rangers thought the ancestors were helping them protect the animals."
"And India?" Jonathan prompted. "You spent several months there, if I remember correctly."
"The monastery in Tibet actually came first," Clark corrected. "That's where I learned to really control my senses. The monks taught me meditation techniques that help me filter out the overwhelming input. They showed me how to focus on single sounds among millions, to see both the microscopic and the panoramic without becoming overwhelmed."
He paused, taking another bite of pancake. "But India... that's where I learned about true non-violence. About finding ways to help that don't rely on force at all. There was this teacher, Sri Ramanathan, who showed me that even the gentlest actions can have powerful consequences."
"Is that where you learned to make that healing tea you wrote about?" Martha asked. "The one that helped the village during the fever outbreak?"
Clark's expression softened at the memory. "Yes. The local healers had such incredible knowledge of medicinal plants. I memorized everything they taught me - I want to share it with the fortress's medical database, see if we can bridge Earth's traditional healing practices with Kryptonian medical science."
"And Russia?" Jonathan asked. "That's where you were when..."
"When the towers fell," Clark finished quietly. The room grew somber with the mention of the Darkest day in US history as he continued. "I was staying with this wonderful family outside St. Petersburg. The Petrovs. They had a small farm, and I was helping with their harvest. When we saw the news..." He swallowed hard. "I could hear everything, even from there. Every cry for help, every last phone call, every final heartbeat. And I couldn't... I couldn't save any of them."
Martha moved around the table to embrace her son. "Oh, sweetheart. Is that when the crystal activated?"
Clark nodded against her shoulder. "It was like it knew I was ready. Or maybe I finally was ready to understand what it had been trying to tell me all along. I said goodbye to the Petrovs and headed north. The crystal led me to this perfect spot in the Arctic, and then..." His eyes lit up with wonder. "You have to see it to believe it. The fortress is incredible - like something out of a dream, but real. Living crystal that responds to thought, technology centuries beyond anything on Earth, and knowledge... so much knowledge."
"You mentioned Jor-El," Jonathan said. "Has he... has he been teaching you?"
"Yes," Clark smiled. "His consciousness is stored in the fortress's systems. He's been teaching me about Krypton, about our science and history. But more than that, he's helped me understand how I can bridge both worlds. The fortress isn't just a piece of Krypton - it's adapted to Earth, just like me. It's helping me figure out how to use what I am to help this world without overwhelming it."
"And that's where journalism comes in?" Martha asked, returning to her seat but keeping one hand on Clark's shoulder.
"Exactly. Being in the fortress these past few months, learning about my heritage... it's actually made me feel more connected to humanity, not less. I want to tell people's stories, Mom. Not just the big disasters or the headlines, but the small moments of courage and kindness I saw everywhere I went. The farmers protecting their land, the tribes preserving their forests, the families helping each other through hard times." His eyes shone with purpose. "I can do more than just save people from immediate danger. I can help give voice to those who need to be heard."
Jonathan reached across the table to grip Clark's hand. "We're so proud of you, son. Not just for what you can do, but for who you've chosen to be." He glanced at Martha, who nodded encouragingly. "And we think... well, we think your birth parents would be proud too. You've found a way to honor both your heritages."
"Speaking of heritage," Martha added, "you mentioned something about flight earlier? When did that happen?"
Clark's face broke into a boyish grin that reminded them so much of the child they'd raised. "That was one of the first things Jor-El taught me at the fortress. It's amazing, Mom. Not just floating or gliding, but real flight. I can go anywhere in the world in minutes. I can soar above the clouds or skim the surface of the ocean. It's... it's freedom like I've never known."
"And yet you still came home," Martha said softly.
"Of course I did," Clark replied, his voice full of emotion. "The fortress is incredible, and I'll show it to you both soon. But this..." he gestured around the familiar kitchen, at Krypto still faithfully at his feet, at the love evident in his parents' faces, "this will always be home."
The next few weeks were filled with a flurry of activity as Clark prepared his university application. The kitchen table became command central, covered with forms, transcripts, and writing samples from his travels. Martha helped organize his portfolio, carefully selecting articles that showcased his talent without drawing too much attention to how he'd obtained certain stories.
"Your piece about the logging operations in Brazil is perfect," she said, adding it to the growing pile. "It shows investigative skills without revealing how you actually tracked the illegal shipments." She left unspoken that his ability to follow trucks through dense rainforest at night might raise questions.
Jonathan helped craft a cover letter that explained the gap in Clark's education. They decided to be as honest as possible while remaining vague about specifics. "Post-graduation travel and independent journalism," Jonathan read aloud from their draft. "That's true enough without giving away too much."
The application to Metropolis University's School of Journalism required three letters of recommendation. Dr. James Wong, the environmental researcher Clark had worked with in Panama, wrote enthusiastically about Clark's ability to connect scientific concepts with human impact. Antonio Ruiz, his journalism mentor from Guatemala, praised Clark's dedication to finding the heart of every story. The third letter came from Dr. Maria Suarez, who spoke of Clark's compassion and integrity while working at her rural clinic in Honduras.
"These are amazing recommendations," Martha said, reading through them with tears in her eyes. "And the best part is they're all completely true."
Clark spent hours crafting his personal essay, trying to capture why journalism mattered to him without revealing too much about his unique perspective on the world. "I want to be a bridge," he wrote, "between people and the truths they need to understand. In my travels, I've seen how the right story, told at the right time, can change lives and move hearts."
The waiting was the hardest part. Clark kept busy helping around the farm, catching up with old friends, and making short trips to the Fortress to continue his education about Krypton. Pete came by often, excited about the possibility of his best friend moving to the city.
"Metropolis is incredible," Pete told him during one of their catch-up sessions. "You're going to love it. Though I guess after seeing the whole world, one city might not seem so impressive."
"Every place has its own magic," Clark replied, thinking of all the cities he'd visited. "I'm looking forward to really getting to know Metropolis, not just passing through."
The acceptance letter arrived on a sunny March morning. Martha found it in the mailbox and called for Jonathan and Clark, who were fixing the tractor. Even Krypto seemed to sense the importance of the moment, sitting attentively as Clark carefully opened the envelope.
"Dear Mr. Kent," he read aloud, his voice steady despite his racing heart. "We are pleased to offer you admission to Metropolis University's School of Journalism for the Fall 2002 semester." He looked up at his parents, joy spreading across his face. "I got in!"
"Of course you did, sweetheart!" Martha hugged him tightly. "They'd be crazy not to take you."
"Full academic scholarship too," Jonathan noted, reading over Clark's shoulder. "Though we've got some savings set aside for books and living expenses."
The next few months were a whirlwind of preparation. Clark received his housing assignment - a double room in Siegel Hall, one of the older dormitories on campus. His roommate would be Michael "Mike" Matthews, a freshman from Coast City studying marine biology.
"Looks like a good match," Martha said, reading Mike's introduction letter. "He's an early riser like you, and he's involved in environmental causes."
Moving day arrived in late August. They rented a small U-Haul for appearances' sake, though Clark could have easily carried everything himself. The hardest goodbye was to Krypto, who seemed to understand that this time, he needed to stay behind.
"Watch over them for me, boy," Clark knelt to hug his faithful companion. "I'll come home to visit often, I promise."
The drive to Metropolis took six hours, during which Jonathan shared stories about his own college experience while Martha fretted about whether they'd packed enough warm clothes. Clark mostly listened, taking in these precious moments with his parents while watching the Kansas plains give way to more urban landscapes.
Metropolis announced itself on the horizon like something out of a dream - gleaming spires reaching into the clouds, the famous globe of the Daily Planet newspaper rotating slowly atop its art deco tower. Clark felt a strange flutter in his chest, as if something in the city was calling to him.
Siegel Hall turned out to be a handsome red-brick building near the heart of campus. They arrived to find organized chaos - hundreds of students and parents unloading cars and navigating the maze of corridors with boxes and suitcases. Clark's enhanced hearing picked up dozens of conversations in multiple languages, snippets of laughter and tearful goodbyes, the general buzz of excitement and anxiety that marked this major life transition.
Mike Matthews was already in their room when they arrived, setting up an impressive array of marine biology posters on his side of the space. He was a friendly-looking guy with sun-bleached hair and the tan of someone who spent a lot of time near the ocean.
"Hey!" Mike greeted them warmly. "You must be Clark. I recognize you from your student ID photo." He extended his hand. "Mike Matthews. Just got in from Coast City this morning."
Clark shook his hand carefully, immediately liking his roommate's open manner. "Nice to meet you, Mike. These are my parents, Jonathan and Martha Kent."
"Great to meet you both," Mike smiled. "My folks already headed back - long drive to the coast. But they left us some cookies if you'd like some while you're unpacking."
The next hour was spent arranging Clark's side of the room, with Martha making his bed with military precision while Jonathan helped set up his desk. Clark noticed Mike sneaking admiring glances at Martha's obvious organizational skills.
"Your mom's amazing," Mike whispered when Martha stepped out to find the resident advisor. "Think she'd adopt me too? My side of the room's a disaster compared to what she's doing over there."
Clark laughed, already feeling at ease with his new roommate. "She's been planning this setup for weeks. I think she has a diagram somewhere."
All too soon, it was time for final goodbyes. Martha hugged Clark tightly, trying to hide her tears. "Call us anytime," she whispered. "Day or night. And remember what we talked about - about being careful."
"I will, Mom," Clark promised, holding her close. "I'll be home to visit before you know it."
Jonathan's embrace was equally emotional. "We're so proud of you, son," he said gruffly. "You're going to do great things here."
After one final round of hugs and waves, Clark watched his parents drive away. He stood at the window for a long moment, using his enhanced vision to follow their truck until it disappeared from even his extraordinary sight.
"You okay, man?" Mike asked kindly, offering him a cookie.
Clark turned to his new roommate with a smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Just... new chapter, you know?"
"Tell me about it," Mike agreed. "But hey, that's what college is all about, right? New beginnings."
Clark nodded, looking out at the Metropolis skyline sparkling in the late summer sun. New beginnings indeed.