Stigmatized
            by Nymph Du Pave

            CHAPTER FOUR:
            Mending

            He skipped school the next day.  Ran to the Luthor Mansion and got the news that Lex had already cleared out.  He asked for a forwarding address.  The lady asked for his name and as soon as it passed his lips her face grew blank but stern.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  "-but I’m afraid you’re not privy to that information.”

            He spent the next week in bed.  He’d never been sick before and now he was utterly unresponsive.  He didn’t eat or drink a single thing.  He scared his parents horribly, especially Martha.  The last night of his “sickness” he heard his father trying so very hard to console his mother, but Martha wasn’t having it.  She just cried and yelled and exhausted herself until she fainted into sleep.

            The next morning both his father and mother awoke to a huge breakfast and all of the chores done.  There was a little note on the table with the words ‘I’m sorry’ scrawled on it.

            Clark went back to school, but was still despondent.  He never said a word unless it was absolutely necessary.  His friendships were floundering because he couldn’t bring himself to care about Pete’s conquests of the feminine nature or Chloe’s newest addition to the 'Wall of Weird'.  Nothing seemed to be that important when it came to them.  They acted so happy and carefree with the occasional teenage angst.

            Clark couldn’t handle it.

            His grades, however, he could handle.  They were steadily getting better and he started taking more advanced classes, driving him and his old best friends apart.  He rarely ever saw them

            Ryan had called several times.  It was the only time that Clark could really find himself able to talk freely, though not about anything important.  Ryan was too young, and Clark was thankful that the kid couldn’t read the surface of his mind.

            The most surprising thing to outsiders like Chloe and Pete and even Lana, was that Clark became closer to Whitney.  Neither of them seemed to be able to have any fun in their lives.  They never smiled, never really spoke.  Whitney finally broke up with Lana, severing the single tie to a social life that he’d held on to.  She was semi-relieved as she could have done nothing for him.  She’d tried but he needed something else.  Something she couldn’t give him.

            Clark and he started sitting together at lunch, eating not saying a word.  Whitney asked Clark to help him in math and Clark did.  They started lounging in the barn after awhile.  Clark even got a part-time job at Fordman’s just so he and Whitney could keep each other close.

            It was a sort of comfort.  They rarely spoke of anything, but when they did the talks were long, tearful and deep.  Clark never told Whitney what had happened.  They didn’t have that kind of a deal.  But they discussed feeling useless, dead, like life was shit.  It was a strange relationship, but one that neither wanted to do without.

            Then Clark realized that Whitney was either going to off himself or grow old and miserable.  He also knew that Whitney was right when he said that it was Smallville doing it to him.  It took a month of prodding, but Clark had finally convinced him to sell the shop, take his mother and move to California.

            When he did, Whitney wrote him, but Clark knew it was becoming to be out of politeness.  After a few months, Clark stopped replying.  Whitney didn’t need a tie to what had made him so miserable.  Whitney had moved on and that was what he needed.  Clark had received a simple postcard of a beach not too long afterwards with the word ‘Thanks’ written in familiar handwriting.  It had taken awhile, but Whitney had grown up.

            Right after Whitney left, Clark realized how very alone he was and found himself in a deeper depression than ever.  He still went to school because if he didn’t he was sure that he would have just stayed in the barn wasting away.

            Clark got horribly angry one night, thinking of the waste that his life had become.  Thinking about how when he passed Chloe and Pete in the hall he ignored them, still seeing the pain in their faces when they saw him.  He had heard that they no longer talked to each other and heard rumors about the three of them and some huge fight over Chloe.

            Apparently their Musketeer friendship hadn't been as invisible as they’d thought.

            He started to blame Lex and then one night the memory came back to him full flood.  For almost an entire year he’d managed to press it back in his subconscious.  Writing Lex had originally been some form of therapy, but now it was just canned.  The same things he wrote and said over and over.  He thought that if Lex would just forgive his stupidity, he could go on with his life.  Lex didn’t even have to come back, or look at him, or talk to him at all.  Just three little words on a scratch piece of paper could have saved Clark Kent’s sanity.

            I forgive you.

            But they never came.

            He started throwing things, trashing his place, his childhood fortress.  He wouldn’t touch the farm equipment, though, not even in his ‘blind’ rage.  His parents didn't have the money to replace something that he selfishly ruined. Even if it was in blind anger and utter despair.

            In place, he ruined his own stuff.  His radio went first.  The books from the bookshelf.  The bookshelf itself.  Then the telescope.  Lana came in just as he hoisted the couch over his head and threw it out the window, listening to it splinter into a thousand pieces.  His parents were in Metropolis, so there was no worry that they would overhear his tantrum.

            Clark heard Lana's gasp and  a book fall.  He'd spun around in a blur and just stood there, numb to the discovery, completely unsure as to where to start.  Lana was silent for about a minute then spoke to him.  “I never knew you had such a temper, Clark.  And talk about needing damage control.”

            He had laughed a little, then- as all the energy had suddenly been wiped from his alien body- collapsed onto the floor.  He felt like a pathetic blob that had no strength to do anything but weep.

            Lana had run to him and rocked him and, when he was strong enough to merely sob, everything about him came out.  She stayed there and listened.

            It was the beginning of Clark’s mending.