Disclaimer: Don't own Smallville, but man, if I did I would totally be seeing the money signs.
Author's Note: Well, this is my first Smallville fic...and I'm hoping more will follow. This one deals with Jonathan and Martha, after they find Clark. Hopefully later chapters when Clark is older (around 7 or so) will appear, so I can get a bit of Clark POV in there too. Enjoy!
Raising Clark
After Lionel Luther had left, Jonathan brought in the newly aquired adoption papers and set them on the kitchen counter and looked over at Martha, who was busy forcing Clark into various outfits she had just bought him. "Well," he said. "You won. We get to keep him." Finally deciding all the clothes fit him fine, Martha smiled at Jonathan and went to look at the papers. She scrutinized them in a way only a lawyer's daughter could and then said, "That's it? He just printed them out like that?"
"Yeah, basically." He sighed resignedly. One way or another, he'd have to say it. "There's a catch though: I have to convince the Rosses to sell their faactory."
Martha looked at him sharply. "What do you mean 'convince' them to sell?" she asked carefully.
"I mean if I don't, a certain government agency might find out that the adoption isn't legal and may take him away." They both looked over at Clark as he played with one of Jonathan's old toy trucks. "We can't let that happen to him," Martha said decively and Jonathan knew she was right. "I'll talk to the Rosses."
*****
Jonathan felt like he had never done anything so low in his life when he talked to the Ross patriarch about the factory. He knew that if someone had tried to get him to sell the farm his answer would be a variation of "Hell no" and then he would escort that person off his property. Preferably at gunpoint, if Martha would allow it. But when he came home at the end of the day and saw Martha cooking dinner with Clark "helping", he couldn't help but think if it not was worth it.
"Clark spent the whole day following me around," Martha informed him as they sat down to eat. "Yeah? Did he learn anything?"
"Who knows?" Martha took Clark's plate and put some chicken, vegetables and mashed potatoes on it and cut them into small pieces so that Clark could easily stab them with his fork, an achievement he was most proud of and did with a great flourish every meal time. Cereal was almost a disappointment to him. It couldn't be stabbed, though Clark quickly realized it could be squished quite nicely once it was mushy enough.
Neither Jonathan nor Martha could quite believe their luck, going from hopelessly childless to having an energetic three-year-old running around the house. At least, that's how old they decided he was. Jonathan Kent had never actually realized how random age was on Earth, being determined by the time it took the earth to go around the sun once. This was, unfortunately, one of the smaller puzzles Clark brought with him.
Once Clark was put to bed, Martha sat next to her husband, a slightly concerned expression on her face. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"It's Clark. Jonathan, he doesn't say a word. Not even a single sound, for that matter. He just stands around silently," she looked at Jonathan helplessly.
"Well...maybe he spoke a different language back home." 'Back home'...back on whatever planet that kid came from was the unspoken meaning.
"I know and that's the point. He never makes a single sound. Even where he's from they must havehad some language, some words to use to communicate."
"I know what you mean, Martha. It's not normal for him to be so quiet but I have a feeling a lot of things involving Clark are goiong to be 'not normal'".
"So we should just give him some time and hope it sorts itself out?" Martha guessed.
"Yeah, that's exactly what I was going to suggest," Jonathan responded, pulling her into his arms. "He could just be shy, that's all..."
*****
Jonatahn was startled awake in the middle of the night by noises outside his door in the hallway. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was only 1am and he pulled himself wearily out of bed. A quick look up and down the hallway told him nothing, so Jonathan went downstairs to investigate. There, sitting in the middle of the family room floor, was Clark. The little boy stared intently at Jonathan as he walked in and Jonathan couldn't help but laugh at the way the boy looked. "We're going to have to get you a haircut here pretty soon, Clark, or you'll end up rivaling most 70s disco singers when it comes to an afro." He ruggeled the boy's large amount of hair thoughtfully and looked down at Clark to see that he was still staring at him. "What's wrong?" Jonathan asked. The look on his face could only be described as lost and it suddenly occured to Jonathan how shocking it had to be for Clark to be here. He knew if he had suddenly woken up on another planet, or even another country, he would feel completely lost and he was a grown man. Clark was only a little kid.
He crouched down on his haunches in front of Clark and looked at hime with the same intensity as the child. "Don't worry, you'll be okay...it's just hard at the beginning. Heck, it's hard for us too. We've never had a kid running around the house before...well, I mean since it's been Martha's and mine. Martha, your mother I mean, is beside herself with joy." He grinned at the kid and kept talking. "See, as long as ympfwk--" he never got a chance to finish that sentence because at that moment, Clark shoved his hand into Jonathan's mouth. 'What the...' Jonathan thought and pulled Clark's hand out of his mouth and Clark, undeterred, tried to shove it back in. "What are you doing?" Jonathan asked annoyed. That's when he looked at the boy's face and saw he was moving his mouth around awkwardly, trying to imitate Jonathan in a way that implied he wasn't sure it was going to work at all. 'He's trying to talk,' Jonathan realized. 'Hasn't he ever talked before?' Reflexively, Jonathan took the boy's hand and placed it lightly on his lips. "Here, this will work better than putting your entire fist in my mouth," he spoke clearly, letting Clark feel every movement of his mouth and the puffs of air that come with it. Clark's mouth moved with increased intensity, but no sound came out and Jonathan decided to start with something a bit simpler. He took Clark's hand in his and pointed at Clark's chest. "Clark," he said firmly. "Clark. You are Clark." 'We'll work on the last name later, ' he added silently to himself.
"Clrg," Clark gurggled out of his mouth, watching Jonathan's lips.
Jonathan nodded encouragingly. "Clark. That's you."
"Clarg!" The boy said with more clarity and Jonathan decided to leave it as close enough. It was late enough and he wanted to sleep but Clark wasn't ready to let up. He pointed at Jonathan and the question he was posing was clear: Who are you?
Without thinking, Jonathan replied, "Daddy." This answer seemed to satisfy Clark and he said, "Dadu," in happy imitation. Jonathan couldn't help but smile broadly and wondered what Martha would think if she saw him sitting there with such a stupid grin on his face. "Come on, Clark. While I'd love to spend the whole night teaching you how to talk,some o us have a farm to run." He stood up and picked up Clark and took him upstairs to his room.
Carefully, he tucked Clark in his bed and turned to leave only to find Clark holding his hand tightly in his surprisingy strong grip. "Hey, let go. I want to sleep too, kiddo." But Clark didn't let go and Jonathan was surprised to see the same look of fear and uncertainty on his face. Simple fear...
"You want me to stay?" he asked. Clark didn't let go. "Okay, I'll stay." He pulled the chair up next to Clark's bed and sat down on it. Clark seemed satisfied, but didn't let go and Jonathan resigned himself to spending the rest of the night in his room. Eventually, Clark closed his eyes and Jonathan continued to watch him, thousands of questions spinning around him.
Martha and he were insane to think they could do this, he thought. How could they? What was expected of them? How would they tell what was normal for Clark when there simply wasn't a known benchmark for his kind? Despite his looks, Jonathan forced himself to remember that Clark wasn't human.
And yet, looking at him, Jonathan couldn't help but be struck by the fact that even if Clark wasn't human, he was still a child like any other Jonathan had come across and, at that moment, sleeping as peacefully as he was, Clark looked just as vulnerable as any other child. He was found naked in a field for Christ's sake. No parents, no dog tags. What could he and Martha do? He sighed and looked at the sleeping child. So innocent...
He wasn't alien; he was Jonathan's son.
Author's Note: Well, this is my first Smallville fic...and I'm hoping more will follow. This one deals with Jonathan and Martha, after they find Clark. Hopefully later chapters when Clark is older (around 7 or so) will appear, so I can get a bit of Clark POV in there too. Enjoy!
Raising Clark
After Lionel Luther had left, Jonathan brought in the newly aquired adoption papers and set them on the kitchen counter and looked over at Martha, who was busy forcing Clark into various outfits she had just bought him. "Well," he said. "You won. We get to keep him." Finally deciding all the clothes fit him fine, Martha smiled at Jonathan and went to look at the papers. She scrutinized them in a way only a lawyer's daughter could and then said, "That's it? He just printed them out like that?"
"Yeah, basically." He sighed resignedly. One way or another, he'd have to say it. "There's a catch though: I have to convince the Rosses to sell their faactory."
Martha looked at him sharply. "What do you mean 'convince' them to sell?" she asked carefully.
"I mean if I don't, a certain government agency might find out that the adoption isn't legal and may take him away." They both looked over at Clark as he played with one of Jonathan's old toy trucks. "We can't let that happen to him," Martha said decively and Jonathan knew she was right. "I'll talk to the Rosses."
*****
Jonathan felt like he had never done anything so low in his life when he talked to the Ross patriarch about the factory. He knew that if someone had tried to get him to sell the farm his answer would be a variation of "Hell no" and then he would escort that person off his property. Preferably at gunpoint, if Martha would allow it. But when he came home at the end of the day and saw Martha cooking dinner with Clark "helping", he couldn't help but think if it not was worth it.
"Clark spent the whole day following me around," Martha informed him as they sat down to eat. "Yeah? Did he learn anything?"
"Who knows?" Martha took Clark's plate and put some chicken, vegetables and mashed potatoes on it and cut them into small pieces so that Clark could easily stab them with his fork, an achievement he was most proud of and did with a great flourish every meal time. Cereal was almost a disappointment to him. It couldn't be stabbed, though Clark quickly realized it could be squished quite nicely once it was mushy enough.
Neither Jonathan nor Martha could quite believe their luck, going from hopelessly childless to having an energetic three-year-old running around the house. At least, that's how old they decided he was. Jonathan Kent had never actually realized how random age was on Earth, being determined by the time it took the earth to go around the sun once. This was, unfortunately, one of the smaller puzzles Clark brought with him.
Once Clark was put to bed, Martha sat next to her husband, a slightly concerned expression on her face. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"It's Clark. Jonathan, he doesn't say a word. Not even a single sound, for that matter. He just stands around silently," she looked at Jonathan helplessly.
"Well...maybe he spoke a different language back home." 'Back home'...back on whatever planet that kid came from was the unspoken meaning.
"I know and that's the point. He never makes a single sound. Even where he's from they must havehad some language, some words to use to communicate."
"I know what you mean, Martha. It's not normal for him to be so quiet but I have a feeling a lot of things involving Clark are goiong to be 'not normal'".
"So we should just give him some time and hope it sorts itself out?" Martha guessed.
"Yeah, that's exactly what I was going to suggest," Jonathan responded, pulling her into his arms. "He could just be shy, that's all..."
*****
Jonatahn was startled awake in the middle of the night by noises outside his door in the hallway. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was only 1am and he pulled himself wearily out of bed. A quick look up and down the hallway told him nothing, so Jonathan went downstairs to investigate. There, sitting in the middle of the family room floor, was Clark. The little boy stared intently at Jonathan as he walked in and Jonathan couldn't help but laugh at the way the boy looked. "We're going to have to get you a haircut here pretty soon, Clark, or you'll end up rivaling most 70s disco singers when it comes to an afro." He ruggeled the boy's large amount of hair thoughtfully and looked down at Clark to see that he was still staring at him. "What's wrong?" Jonathan asked. The look on his face could only be described as lost and it suddenly occured to Jonathan how shocking it had to be for Clark to be here. He knew if he had suddenly woken up on another planet, or even another country, he would feel completely lost and he was a grown man. Clark was only a little kid.
He crouched down on his haunches in front of Clark and looked at hime with the same intensity as the child. "Don't worry, you'll be okay...it's just hard at the beginning. Heck, it's hard for us too. We've never had a kid running around the house before...well, I mean since it's been Martha's and mine. Martha, your mother I mean, is beside herself with joy." He grinned at the kid and kept talking. "See, as long as ympfwk--" he never got a chance to finish that sentence because at that moment, Clark shoved his hand into Jonathan's mouth. 'What the...' Jonathan thought and pulled Clark's hand out of his mouth and Clark, undeterred, tried to shove it back in. "What are you doing?" Jonathan asked annoyed. That's when he looked at the boy's face and saw he was moving his mouth around awkwardly, trying to imitate Jonathan in a way that implied he wasn't sure it was going to work at all. 'He's trying to talk,' Jonathan realized. 'Hasn't he ever talked before?' Reflexively, Jonathan took the boy's hand and placed it lightly on his lips. "Here, this will work better than putting your entire fist in my mouth," he spoke clearly, letting Clark feel every movement of his mouth and the puffs of air that come with it. Clark's mouth moved with increased intensity, but no sound came out and Jonathan decided to start with something a bit simpler. He took Clark's hand in his and pointed at Clark's chest. "Clark," he said firmly. "Clark. You are Clark." 'We'll work on the last name later, ' he added silently to himself.
"Clrg," Clark gurggled out of his mouth, watching Jonathan's lips.
Jonathan nodded encouragingly. "Clark. That's you."
"Clarg!" The boy said with more clarity and Jonathan decided to leave it as close enough. It was late enough and he wanted to sleep but Clark wasn't ready to let up. He pointed at Jonathan and the question he was posing was clear: Who are you?
Without thinking, Jonathan replied, "Daddy." This answer seemed to satisfy Clark and he said, "Dadu," in happy imitation. Jonathan couldn't help but smile broadly and wondered what Martha would think if she saw him sitting there with such a stupid grin on his face. "Come on, Clark. While I'd love to spend the whole night teaching you how to talk,some o us have a farm to run." He stood up and picked up Clark and took him upstairs to his room.
Carefully, he tucked Clark in his bed and turned to leave only to find Clark holding his hand tightly in his surprisingy strong grip. "Hey, let go. I want to sleep too, kiddo." But Clark didn't let go and Jonathan was surprised to see the same look of fear and uncertainty on his face. Simple fear...
"You want me to stay?" he asked. Clark didn't let go. "Okay, I'll stay." He pulled the chair up next to Clark's bed and sat down on it. Clark seemed satisfied, but didn't let go and Jonathan resigned himself to spending the rest of the night in his room. Eventually, Clark closed his eyes and Jonathan continued to watch him, thousands of questions spinning around him.
Martha and he were insane to think they could do this, he thought. How could they? What was expected of them? How would they tell what was normal for Clark when there simply wasn't a known benchmark for his kind? Despite his looks, Jonathan forced himself to remember that Clark wasn't human.
And yet, looking at him, Jonathan couldn't help but be struck by the fact that even if Clark wasn't human, he was still a child like any other Jonathan had come across and, at that moment, sleeping as peacefully as he was, Clark looked just as vulnerable as any other child. He was found naked in a field for Christ's sake. No parents, no dog tags. What could he and Martha do? He sighed and looked at the sleeping child. So innocent...
He wasn't alien; he was Jonathan's son.