Mother, May I
Lana, her son, Clark, PeteShip: Slight Clark/Lana
If I had superpowers, I'd own it all. But I don't.Summary: They have always been honest and open with each other. That's the way it will always be.
Ignore season 8. This is set in the future and more compliant with the comics. This girl had been through so much, I think we can agree she wouldn't be 100% mentally stable. Her trust issues, fears of 'secrets and lies' will never fade. The episode 'Ageless' really impelled me to write this.
Yeah I've decided to re-post my two year old fics. lol
When she is with him, she feels she has a purpose.
She doesn’t like being away from him. Pete says it’s to the point where it’s unhealthy.
She disagrees with Pete. If she was such an overprotective mother, she would not let him go to school or let him visit Pete every weekend.
She just likes to know where he is and what he is doing. They don’t keep secrets from one another.
She knows he will never forsake or abandon her, like the other people in her life. He depends on her.
“Going to pick up your son, Lana?” asks Joy, her assistant. “I would go crazy spending so much time with my children. Every once in a while, a babysitter comes in handy.”
“I’m the opposite. I go crazy when we’re apart.”
From the very beginning, before he could walk, they have always been honest and open with each other. That’s the way it will always be.
The five year old is sprawled on the floor of the living room drawing with crayons and papers around him. She is sitting comfortably on the couch highlighting the necessary contents within her files. The news is playing on the tv.
She looks down at him. He is resolutely drawing what she guesses is birds on several pieces of paper. Her doubts come to mind, “You’ll always tell mom the truth, right honey?”
He nods, his interest unyielding from his artwork. “Yeess.”
She doesn’t know why he answers as if she questions him everyday…
“Like it?” He jumps on to the couch beside her, showing the picture.
She takes a second to see it. With an encouraging smile says, “Very much. We should put it on the refrigerator.”
The weatherman appears on the tv, giving his habitual forecast.
“I want snow. I like the snow, do you mommy?”
A sad memory from her pain surfaces up. She remembers white everywhere at Jonathan Kent’s funeral. It’s cold. Clark is detached, despair visible in his eyes. There is so much he isn’t telling her. She doesn’t like it when it snows.
“I don’t mind it,” she lies.
The memory hurts. When she kisses the top of her son’s head, she can almost bring herself to forget.