Disclaimer: Superman and all its affiliates belong to DC. Smallville belongs to the CW. Recognizable dialogue has been taken from episodes 1.01 and 2.07.

When Martha closes her eyes and indulges herself with fantasies, she doesn't see herself drowning in a good-looking suitor's eyes as he sweeps her off her feet; she doesn't need sweeping, and Jonathan has all the dreamy eyes she needs. She doesn't see dollar signs dancing amongst a lavish lifestyle; she gave that life up for love.

No, when Martha quiets her thoughts and concentrates, she hears the pitter-patter of tiny feet. She feels small hands grabbing at her legs, and hears the wails of a needy infant.

Martha knows what she really wants, and now that wish is coming true.

"Twins, really?" she says to the doctor administrating her ultrasound. "That's odd; they don't run in my family," and she adds, looking to her husband, "or yours either, Jonathan."

He keeps looking back and forth, a shocked gaze settling on the monitors, adoring eyes boring into her own, though he also looks to her stomach, fondly, gently, paternally. "Twins, Martha," he murmurs. Jonathan tentatively sets a hand on her swelled abdomen, carefully avoiding the sticky gel smeared across it. His other hand tightens around her own. "I can already see them getting into trouble at the farm."

When they fall silent, thinking of ambiguous figures climbing fences, milking cows, riding horses… the doctor softly offers, "Would you like to know the sexes of your children?"

Martha and Jonathan exchange a glance before Jonathan turns to the doctor and nods his affirmation.

"This one," the doctor begins, turning to the monitor and tapping the baby on the right, "is a boy. And I think that his sister," she continues, lightly rapping her knuckle against his twin, "will love you very much. Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Kent."

"Thank you, Doctor," Jonathan says. "And thank you, Martha," he murmurs, "for such beautiful, strong children."

The funeral takes place on a sunny afternoon. As the sun bakes the attendants in their black, mournful clothing, Martha sobs. Why does the sun still shine upon her, even after one of her babies has been taken away? It's so wrong, it's wrong—

Gasping cries emerge, slowly transforming into wails as she sinks to her knees. Someone is trying to take the baby away, but she screams at them, and then shrieks her husband's name. She clutches her baby closer, hoping that her beautiful baby will put her back together. Thank you, God, for sparing one, she thinks, the edges of her vision blurring with tears, thank you for letting me have just one—

Jonathan appears, wraps his arms around them both, cradling them to his chest, murmuring a prayer over the grave, interrupted by soft, rumbling sobs.

The grave is small, out of necessity, and so is the headstone. The simple inscription reads,

Matthew Clark Kent

July 18, 1982

He Was Loved

Martha and Jonathan exchange smiles as their daughter bounces and chatters in between them.

"—and so I told them to scram! I think they thought I said scram-bull, 'cause then they made jokes about eggs—can we get chickens, Dad? I'd like to have fresh eggs every mornin'. Can we, can we?"

A momentary silence; she buzzes with anticipation.

"I don't see why not," he indulges, "as long as you handle most of the chores concerning these chickens."

"Yay! I'll do it, Dad, I swear!" she promises, practically vibrating in her seat.

"Settle down, sweetheart," Jonathan chuckles, gripping the steering wheel as he glances at his daughter through the corner of his eye. "You know, Rose, Lana might be in Nell's shop today. With the Homecoming game going on, her parents might be busy."

Rose stills for a moment; then she bursts into a more vibrant jig. It's difficult when sitting down, but she manages. "I love Lana! She's like the little sister I wish I had," she swoons.

As Jonathan parks the truck outside the Talon, Rose unbuckles herself and zooms out of the vehicle, climbing over Martha in her haste to escape, making a beeline for the flower shop next door. Her parents chuckle and follow more sedately.

When they enter the shop, Jonathan converses with Nell as Martha approaches the twosome cuddling at a small table in the back of the shop.

Lana, smartly dressed in a poofy gown and tiara with little wings attached to her back, glances up as she approaches. Rose whispers something in her ear.

Lana looks up at Martha and asks, "Do you wanna make a wish?"

"I would love to make a wish," Martha responds.

She smiles gently at the sight of her daughter wrapped around her playmate, and closes her eyes to wish, That. I want that, as Lana waves her wand over Martha and casts, "Abracadabra," gently tapping Martha's forehead with the instrument.

"Can I make a wish, Lana?" Rose requests.

"Yep!" Lana nods, smiling as she turns to grant her friend a wish.

"I wish I had a little sister. Or brother," Rose says, her eyes shut tight; a small furrow forms between her brows as Lana declares, "Abracadabra."

"Whoosh!" Lana says, and exclaims, "Your wish came true! I'm your little sister!"

"I knew it!" Rose declares, covering the younger girl with tickles.

Martha beams at the squirming, giggling girls and shakes her head at Jonathan as he approaches. "We should ask her parents if we can have her over sometime," she mentions to her husband. She places a hand on her belly and murmurs, "I wish we could give her a real sibling."

Jonathan hugs her with his free hand, and hands her a resplendent bouquet of red tulips with the other. He then kneels to offer a single tiger lily to their daughter. "Time to go, pumpkin," he says.

Rose pouts, but kisses Lana on the cheek easily enough before springing to her feet and grabbing Jonathan's hand, clutching the orange flower tightly in the other.

"Ready!" she declares, and is escorted to the car.

They're on the road when the meteors hit.

Rose sees them first, pointing to the shapes zooming across the sky, and crows, "Cool! Big shooting stars!"

Martha looks, alarmed, and can feel the impact as they begin to strike the cornfields around them. "What happening, Jonathan?" she hoarsely trills, leaning over to wrap both arms around Rose.

The truck veers off the road before he has a chance to respond, flipping over twice. Rose laughs, as if it's fun! Martha screams a little.

They're still dizzy when Jonathan croaks, "Martha?"

Both Rose and Martha peer around him to their left, and see, the inverted shape of a small boy.

"It's my brother!" Rose shrieks. "I wished for him, and he came!"

She unbuckles her seatbelt and falls to the ground; she scrambles around Jonathan through the broken window to almost tackle the unsuspecting child in a hug.

He doesn't respond except for a look of wonder.

"Mama, he must be cold," Rose prompts, and Martha also scrambles out of the car, grabbing a blanket stowed in the glove compartment to wrap around him. She scoops him up and Jonathan does the same for Rose. As they walk the way the boy came from, Jonathan says, shaking his head, "Kid don't just fall out of the sky, Martha."

"Then where did he come from?" Martha wonders.

"I don't know," Jonathan admits, traipsing along, "but he must have parents."

"Well if he does," Martha replies smartly as they come across a strange capsule, "they're definitely not from Kansas."

Jonathan looks to the sky in wonder, and turns the same expression to the child in Martha's arms. "Sweetheart, we can't keep him," he tries to convince her. "What are we gonna tell people, we found him out in a field?"

"We didn't find him," Martha murmurs, squeezing him gently. "Like Rose said; he found us." She kisses the boy's cheek, and Jonathan returns his gaze to the sky.

After a few moments of silence, Jonathan sets Rose down and orders, "Stay with your mother."

He runs off.

Martha frees a hand and runs it reassuringly through her daughter's strawberry blonde hair. "Your father's looking for help," she explains.

"Okay," Rose murmurs, squeezing the boy's foot. He giggles, and so Rose does it again. Soon, they're playing as if they're already siblings. I think they are, Martha admits to herself.

Jonathan soon returns with a truck, and they load up the boy's—well, Martha doesn't know what to call it but a ship, so—the boy's ship. They then pile into the truck, the boy and Rose sharing space on Martha's lap and Jonathan steering them steadily towards home.

"Jonathan, look out!" Martha warns, momentarily distracted from the children amusing themselves with each other on her lap.

A man with a long, black trenchcoat and shoulder-length, reddish brown hair is in the middle of the road, waving his arms. Jonathan slams the brakes more carefully than last time, and the man approaches the driver's side.

The man is drenched with sweat; his hair is unkempt. Jonathan exits the truck and demands, "Are you all right?"

"My son," the man gasps.

"What about him? He hurt?"

The man gasps out the beginnings of a few sentences, but can't seem to say anymore

Jonathan tells the man to calm down and says, shortly, "Where. Is your son?"

The man stammers and points.

Jonathan runs. Martha shifts her weight and coos nonsense to the children in her lap.

When Jonathan comes back, the man is carrying a bald boy around Rose's age, wrapped in Jonathan's coat. Martha shuffles over to the middle seat to accommodate him, and Rose curiously reaches for the boy before a sharp look from his father stops her. It's sufficient enough to turn her attention back to Martha's boy, but not before she leans up to Martha and whispers, loudly, "Is he okay?"

Martha's not sure if Rose is referring to the boy or his father, but either way—"I'm not sure, honey."

As they begin to drive towards the hospital, the man demands, "Can't this thing go any faster?"

"We're doing the best that we can," Jonathan reports.

The man glances towards the truck bed and wonders, "What are you carrying back there? It's slowing us down."

Nobody responds.

The man's son's eyes open, briefly, and look towards Rose and Martha's boy. Rose and her companion reach out and, simultaneously, caress the boy's bald head comfortingly. His eyes roll back into his head, and the man looks on worriedly.

They make it to the hospital without further consequence, but once they enter, the man throws around his name (Lionel Luthor) and produces fistsful of cash from seemingly nowhere. His son gets a room fairly quickly.

Martha quietly drives Rose, the boy, and his spaceship home as Jonathan waits in the hospital to see about the man's son.

They procure some of Rose's old toys, and even some of Jonathan's leftovers from the attic. The boy is now wearing one of Rose's nightgowns; she giggles at the sight of him in flowers and frills. She sits and quietly plays with him, though showing him what the toys do and making various noises to illustrate. Martha sits at the table and watches.

Jonathan keeps trying to tell Martha (and Rose, incidentally) that they can't keep him. Martha doesn't listen, but once there's a knock on the door, she willingly spirits him upstairs. Rose follows, and they continue to play.

The boy hears the rumble of an unfamiliar voice, though, and sprints around Rose and Martha to see the new face. Martha nervously introduces him as "Clark," an impulse which breaks her heart when she thinks about her first son.

Martha, Jonathan, and the sheriff make idle conversation about Clark's supposed adoption, and then the sheriff leaves.

And Clark Kent becomes Rose's little brother.

Author's Note: This story is intended to become Lex/Rose (though that may change, depending on where the plot goes).

The premise is this: Martha and Jonathan had a daughter (and a son, deceased), biologically their own, before Clark landed on Earth. Clark grows up with a sister (who can tell him stuff about girls he is obviously lost about) who shares the burden of his secret (and she may even have a few of her own...).

Feel free to tell me what worked for you, and what didn't. I'm open to suggestions on certain areas, especially the title (which is currently only a placeholder) and summary.

Is third person a good medium for this story? Should I switch to first person from Rose from this point on? What are you hoping to see as far as character relationships and plot go?

Word Count: 1968 words