"Mom?"
Inside the old barn, where the cellar door was usually sealed shut, Adrian spotted his mother standing still before it, arms folded, eyes distant and full of thought.
Martha turned quickly at the sound of his voice.
When she saw it was him, she let out a quiet breath of relief.
"Adrian, you scared me."
"Did something happen?" he asked, scanning the ground with his X-ray vision.
He could see the faint outline of the spaceship below, untouched yet quietly humming with power.
"No, nothing," Martha said softly.
"I just… like to come here sometimes.
You know this place holds meaning for all of us—for you and Clark, for your father and me.
Sometimes I wonder…"
Her voice wavered slightly.
"Will you two ever leave us one day?
After all, you and Clark came from that ship."
Her smile was gentle but faintly bitter.
Adrian walked closer and put an arm around her shoulder.
"That won't happen, Mom.
Clark and I aren't going anywhere."
He didn't fully understand why she was suddenly so anxious, but he spoke quietly, reassuring her.
"Things change, Adrian," she said.
"We can't see the future.
Look at your father and Clark—they've already clashed once.
Yes, it was because of the red kryptonite, but still… you're both growing up, finding your own paths."
Her tone softened.
"Your father can be strict—controlling even—but don't forget that his heart runs deep."
Adrian nodded, thoughtful.
"I know.
But tell me, what really happened here?"
Martha hesitated before glancing down toward the cellar door.
"While you were away in Gotham, I woke up one night to noises from the barn.
When I came to check, I saw light coming from the cellar.
I pulled the pulley open and saw the ship glowing green, shaking violently.
It looked… alive, as if it was calling out to you and Clark."
Adrian frowned.
"The ship was active?"
"Yes.
It scared me," Martha admitted, her voice trembling slightly.
"I'm afraid, Adrian.
Afraid that one day it'll take you both away.
You'll grow up, find your purpose, and maybe that purpose won't be here.
The idea of losing you terrifies me."
Adrian squeezed her shoulder gently.
"You won't lose us, Mom.
I already know the path I'm taking, and it's not the one you're afraid of."
She nodded, though worry still lingered in her eyes.
"Did you tell Dad about this?" he asked.
"Not yet.
He was already worried about Clark's behavior then.
I didn't want to burden him more."
"I understand," Adrian said quietly.
He slipped a hand into his pocket and felt the octagonal piece of alien metal he'd received from Dr. Hamilton earlier that day.
The material was unmistakable—part of the ship buried beneath their feet.
But was it just a fragment… or a key?
---
At the Neils' farm, Lana Lang was circling the paddock on a small chestnut horse.
Her hair caught the late-afternoon sunlight as she trotted past the fence line.
After a few laps, she slowed to a stop—and saw Clark waiting by the fence, holding a small bunch of ranunculus flowers.
"Hey, Lana!" Clark called, waving awkwardly.
"Neil told me you like riding, so I thought I'd drop by.
The place looks… beautiful."
He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.
"I kept getting lost on the way, but I finally made it."
Lana didn't get off the horse.
She just stared at the flowers in his hands.
"So… those are for me?"
"Yeah.
I wanted to apologize," Clark said, voice low but earnest.
"I shouldn't have taken your necklace—and I definitely shouldn't have destroyed it.
I know what it meant to you, Lana.
I'm sorry."
Lana's face stayed cold.
"You think giving me flowers makes everything disappear?"
"I…" Clark hesitated.
"What I said back then—that wasn't really me."
"Oh?" Lana pressed.
"Then who was it, Clark?
The person who told me all those things, who fought with his father, who said what he did to Adrian?
Were all of those lies?"
Clark looked down at the flowers, guilt flashing in his eyes.
"I wish I could explain.
But I can't."
Even if it hadn't been his true self, he knew his actions still mattered.
Words couldn't undo what he'd done.
"You're always like this," Lana said bitterly, turning her gaze toward the setting sun.
"Always hiding what you feel, pretending everything's fine.
You never say what's in your heart.
Honestly?
I think I liked you better when you were under that red kryptonite.
At least then, you were honest.
You showed anger, desire… even selfishness.
You were real."
Clark's heart sank.
Her words struck deeper than she could know.
"This isn't just about the necklace," Lana continued.
"It's about you, Clark.
You're always waiting—waiting for someone else to move first.
Some people are meant to wait, and some are meant to be waited for.
You… you're the one everyone keeps waiting on."
"Lana, I—" he began, but she cut him off.
"I want to go home alone.
Can you find your way back?"
Clark swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.
"Yeah… I can."
"Good," she said, and with a light tap of her heels, her horse galloped off across the fading light.
Clark stood at the fence, watching her disappear beyond the hills.
A quiet ache spread through his chest.
Was this punishment?
For his arrogance, his power, or his fear of losing control?
He looked down at the ranunculus flowers still in his hand.
After a long pause, he knelt and set them gently on the ground.
Maybe this was what he deserved.
Because power, once misused, always demands its price.
_____
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