Fic: Points of Origin | SR | Clark, Martha/Jonathan | PG | 1/1
Title: Points of Origin
Fandom: Superman Returns
Characters/Pairing: Clark Kent, Martha Kent/Jonathan Kent
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,322
Prompt: For the ES.C October 2011 Fic Grab: Training; For dcu_freeforall: Gravity
Summary: After Clark falls through the barn roof, he makes some life-changing discoveries.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes: This one takes place during SR, right after young Clark falls through the barn roof, and is based loosely on the deleted portions of that scene. Not set in any particular fic 'verse.
Points of Origin
His heart pounding in his chest, Clark sucked in a surprised gasp. He hadn't hit the ground. He didn't hurt from the crash through the roof of the barn. He . . . was hovering a foot off the hay-covered floor.
Hovering.
Delight filled him along with the realization. He'd broken the bonds of gravity! And not just jumping higher and higher as he had outside, leaping far above the corn fields. This was . . . was unbelievable! If he could leap, and hover, then maybe. . . .
Slowly extending his arms, he wiggled his fingers. He could move independently of the hover. Wow! And-
A quick look around found his glasses lying on the floor a few feet away, where they'd landed after he crashed through the roof. He . . . he didn't need them. He could see just fine! He-
He could see past the floor beneath him. Through it, as if it wasn't even there. Everything seemed to blur and disappear and . . . there was something hidden beneath the barn. Something covered in an old canvas tarp. In what looked like a cellar, that he'd never known existed.
How did that make sense? How did any of this make sense? His Ma had always said he was special, but this went so far beyond 'special' that he had no idea what to make of it. And who was gonna believe him, anyway? His parents, maybe, but sure as heck not Pete. Or Lana. He was just dorky old Clark, that accidentally broke his best friend's arm last year cuz' he was a klutz.
“Clark!? Clark, are you okay?”
Clark lifted his head in time to see his Ma rushing into the barn, a look of panic written all over her face. “Ma, look! I can-”
But gravity suddenly reasserted itself, and Clark hit the floor with a thump, the air driven out of his lungs as he fell in a heap.
“Clark!” his Ma cried out again as she reached him, helping him up from the floor gently. “Are you all right? What happened? I heard a crash.”
Getting his breath again, Clark glanced upward as his Ma wiped the dust and dirt from his face with her apron. He couldn't help a laugh. “Ma, I'm okay!” he protested. Lifting his hand, he pointed up. “I, uh, fell through the roof. I kinda . . . jumped from the grain silo, and lost my footing when I landed,” he finished sheepishly. “And I didn't hit the ground. I hovered.”
Following his gaze, his Ma looked up and saw the hole in the roof, the color draining from her face as she did so. She pushed a lock of her graying hair back as she stared, wide-eyed. “Oh, my heavens.” Then she looked back down-and up-at Clark, who, at fourteen, was already six inches taller than her.
“Sorry, Ma. I'll fix the roof, I promise,” he apologized.
“The roof?” she said, disbelieving. “Clark, you jumped from the silo? Do you mean to tell me that you flew?”
A slow grin moved over Clark's face, and he ducked his head, almost embarrassed to admit it. “I, uh, I think so.”
“Oh, my heavens,” she repeated, laying a hand over her heart and glancing up again. “Goodness.”
“I think . . . maybe I can do it again, too. On purpose this time,” Clark suggested. Stepping back from his Ma, he relaxed, the same way he did when floating in the pond behind Pete's place. And-
With his breath caught in his throat, Clark was suddenly hovering several inches off the ground again, his legs dangling free beneath him. Holding his arms out to his sides to balance himself, he grinned again. “See? What do you think, Ma?”
His Ma's chin started to tremble, and her eyes suddenly seemed wet. “Oh, Clark!” she cried, her voice catching with emotion. “My baby can fly!”
“Isn't it great, Ma?” Clark asked, relaxing just a little bit more and mentally willing himself to float higher. “I bet I could-”
But once again, gravity had other ideas, and Clark shot up to the rafters, his head cracking one of the beams as he collided with it. Shocked, he resisted the temptation to say 'ow', when he realized that it didn't hurt at all. Nothing hurt. And-
And suddenly he was falling, hitting the ground again, his knees driven up toward his chest, and he just barely managed to land in a crouch before falling over onto his butt.
“Clark!” his Ma cried out again, rushing to his side and helping him up once again.
“It's okay, Ma. I'm fine,” he smiled at her as he brushed the hay and dirt off of his jeans as he got to his feet. “I guess . . . I just gotta practice, is all.”
His Ma rolled her eyes, smiling up at him. “Oh, my boy. You'll have to do more than practice, if you don't want to fall on your rear end like that again.”
Clark couldn't help feeling a little sheepish again, and he rubbed the back of his head absently. “Yes, ma'am. But Ma, it didn't hurt. Falling, I mean. And hitting the ground. And . . . and I don't think I need my glasses anymore. I could see through the floor!”
“Hmm,” she murmured, nodding thoughtfully as she seemed to absorb his revelations. “Well, that's something to consider. Still, I think you should set aside some time every day to work on all the new things you can do. You've always had to be careful not to hurt anyone with your strength, but this is something that you'll have to work at, diligently.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“I mean it,” she said, leveling a pointed gaze at him as she propped her hands on her hips. “After chores and homework every afternoon, before dinner. It'll be your training time. Like an athlete.”
An athlete. It was the first time Clark had ever thought of himself that way. He'd never been allowed to play sports with the other kids before. The very thought was . . . thrilling! Even if he probably wouldn't ever get the chance to show off his talents on a baseball field, it was still an awesome idea.
So with another small smile tugging up at the corners of his mouth, he nodded, “Yes, ma'am.” Then he remembered his earlier thoughts. “Ma, you always said I was special, but . . . but you never told me why. Why can I do all these things? And what's underneath the barn? I saw . . . something hidden down there.”
His Ma's expression clouded with something Clark had only ever seen when he'd asked her why he was different from the other kids. Something like doubt. Or fear. “Oh, Clark. My precious boy,” she started, reaching up to cup his face in her small hand. “I suppose we couldn't keep it from you forever.”
Just then, the barn door opened again, and Clark's Pa strode through. “Martha? Clark? What's going on? Why is there a hole in the roof?”
The look on his Ma's face seemed to stop his Pa in his tracks as she brushed her hand down Clark's arm, and she said quietly, “It's time to tell him, Jonathan. He found the cellar. And he . . . he can fly. Sort of.” Giving Clark a conspiratorial smile, she nodded encouragingly.
“Tell me what?” Clark said, his heart starting to hammer again.
His Pa's expression seemed to run through all the same emotions that his Ma's had, in record time, and finally he scrubbed a hand over his jaw and nodded grimly. “All right,” he said, his look settling on determination. Moving across the barn, he knelt to sweep away the hay and dirt from a section of the floor, finding a set of rusted metal handles and tugging upward. Two hidden doors in the floor opened, doors that Clark had never known were there.
“Son,” his Pa started as his Ma took Clark's hand and tugged him along to the stairs descending into the hidden cellar, “you're not exactly from around here.”
With goose bumps rising on his arms and excitement buzzing in his veins and in his ears, Clark knew that his life would never be the same.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: Superman Returns
Characters/Pairing: Clark Kent, Martha Kent/Jonathan Kent
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,322
Prompt: For the ES.C October 2011 Fic Grab: Training; For dcu_freeforall: Gravity
Summary: After Clark falls through the barn roof, he makes some life-changing discoveries.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes: This one takes place during SR, right after young Clark falls through the barn roof, and is based loosely on the deleted portions of that scene. Not set in any particular fic 'verse.
Points of Origin
His heart pounding in his chest, Clark sucked in a surprised gasp. He hadn't hit the ground. He didn't hurt from the crash through the roof of the barn. He . . . was hovering a foot off the hay-covered floor.
Hovering.
Delight filled him along with the realization. He'd broken the bonds of gravity! And not just jumping higher and higher as he had outside, leaping far above the corn fields. This was . . . was unbelievable! If he could leap, and hover, then maybe. . . .
Slowly extending his arms, he wiggled his fingers. He could move independently of the hover. Wow! And-
A quick look around found his glasses lying on the floor a few feet away, where they'd landed after he crashed through the roof. He . . . he didn't need them. He could see just fine! He-
He could see past the floor beneath him. Through it, as if it wasn't even there. Everything seemed to blur and disappear and . . . there was something hidden beneath the barn. Something covered in an old canvas tarp. In what looked like a cellar, that he'd never known existed.
How did that make sense? How did any of this make sense? His Ma had always said he was special, but this went so far beyond 'special' that he had no idea what to make of it. And who was gonna believe him, anyway? His parents, maybe, but sure as heck not Pete. Or Lana. He was just dorky old Clark, that accidentally broke his best friend's arm last year cuz' he was a klutz.
“Clark!? Clark, are you okay?”
Clark lifted his head in time to see his Ma rushing into the barn, a look of panic written all over her face. “Ma, look! I can-”
But gravity suddenly reasserted itself, and Clark hit the floor with a thump, the air driven out of his lungs as he fell in a heap.
“Clark!” his Ma cried out again as she reached him, helping him up from the floor gently. “Are you all right? What happened? I heard a crash.”
Getting his breath again, Clark glanced upward as his Ma wiped the dust and dirt from his face with her apron. He couldn't help a laugh. “Ma, I'm okay!” he protested. Lifting his hand, he pointed up. “I, uh, fell through the roof. I kinda . . . jumped from the grain silo, and lost my footing when I landed,” he finished sheepishly. “And I didn't hit the ground. I hovered.”
Following his gaze, his Ma looked up and saw the hole in the roof, the color draining from her face as she did so. She pushed a lock of her graying hair back as she stared, wide-eyed. “Oh, my heavens.” Then she looked back down-and up-at Clark, who, at fourteen, was already six inches taller than her.
“Sorry, Ma. I'll fix the roof, I promise,” he apologized.
“The roof?” she said, disbelieving. “Clark, you jumped from the silo? Do you mean to tell me that you flew?”
A slow grin moved over Clark's face, and he ducked his head, almost embarrassed to admit it. “I, uh, I think so.”
“Oh, my heavens,” she repeated, laying a hand over her heart and glancing up again. “Goodness.”
“I think . . . maybe I can do it again, too. On purpose this time,” Clark suggested. Stepping back from his Ma, he relaxed, the same way he did when floating in the pond behind Pete's place. And-
With his breath caught in his throat, Clark was suddenly hovering several inches off the ground again, his legs dangling free beneath him. Holding his arms out to his sides to balance himself, he grinned again. “See? What do you think, Ma?”
His Ma's chin started to tremble, and her eyes suddenly seemed wet. “Oh, Clark!” she cried, her voice catching with emotion. “My baby can fly!”
“Isn't it great, Ma?” Clark asked, relaxing just a little bit more and mentally willing himself to float higher. “I bet I could-”
But once again, gravity had other ideas, and Clark shot up to the rafters, his head cracking one of the beams as he collided with it. Shocked, he resisted the temptation to say 'ow', when he realized that it didn't hurt at all. Nothing hurt. And-
And suddenly he was falling, hitting the ground again, his knees driven up toward his chest, and he just barely managed to land in a crouch before falling over onto his butt.
“Clark!” his Ma cried out again, rushing to his side and helping him up once again.
“It's okay, Ma. I'm fine,” he smiled at her as he brushed the hay and dirt off of his jeans as he got to his feet. “I guess . . . I just gotta practice, is all.”
His Ma rolled her eyes, smiling up at him. “Oh, my boy. You'll have to do more than practice, if you don't want to fall on your rear end like that again.”
Clark couldn't help feeling a little sheepish again, and he rubbed the back of his head absently. “Yes, ma'am. But Ma, it didn't hurt. Falling, I mean. And hitting the ground. And . . . and I don't think I need my glasses anymore. I could see through the floor!”
“Hmm,” she murmured, nodding thoughtfully as she seemed to absorb his revelations. “Well, that's something to consider. Still, I think you should set aside some time every day to work on all the new things you can do. You've always had to be careful not to hurt anyone with your strength, but this is something that you'll have to work at, diligently.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“I mean it,” she said, leveling a pointed gaze at him as she propped her hands on her hips. “After chores and homework every afternoon, before dinner. It'll be your training time. Like an athlete.”
An athlete. It was the first time Clark had ever thought of himself that way. He'd never been allowed to play sports with the other kids before. The very thought was . . . thrilling! Even if he probably wouldn't ever get the chance to show off his talents on a baseball field, it was still an awesome idea.
So with another small smile tugging up at the corners of his mouth, he nodded, “Yes, ma'am.” Then he remembered his earlier thoughts. “Ma, you always said I was special, but . . . but you never told me why. Why can I do all these things? And what's underneath the barn? I saw . . . something hidden down there.”
His Ma's expression clouded with something Clark had only ever seen when he'd asked her why he was different from the other kids. Something like doubt. Or fear. “Oh, Clark. My precious boy,” she started, reaching up to cup his face in her small hand. “I suppose we couldn't keep it from you forever.”
Just then, the barn door opened again, and Clark's Pa strode through. “Martha? Clark? What's going on? Why is there a hole in the roof?”
The look on his Ma's face seemed to stop his Pa in his tracks as she brushed her hand down Clark's arm, and she said quietly, “It's time to tell him, Jonathan. He found the cellar. And he . . . he can fly. Sort of.” Giving Clark a conspiratorial smile, she nodded encouragingly.
“Tell me what?” Clark said, his heart starting to hammer again.
His Pa's expression seemed to run through all the same emotions that his Ma's had, in record time, and finally he scrubbed a hand over his jaw and nodded grimly. “All right,” he said, his look settling on determination. Moving across the barn, he knelt to sweep away the hay and dirt from a section of the floor, finding a set of rusted metal handles and tugging upward. Two hidden doors in the floor opened, doors that Clark had never known were there.
“Son,” his Pa started as his Ma took Clark's hand and tugged him along to the stairs descending into the hidden cellar, “you're not exactly from around here.”
With goose bumps rising on his arms and excitement buzzing in his veins and in his ears, Clark knew that his life would never be the same.
~*~*~*~