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Leaning back against a tree, Clark stretched out comfortably. He propped his fishing pole against one knee and glanced at his father. Jonathan Kent sat in almost exactly the same position as his son. Without intending to, Clark was unconsciously emulating his father. A sudden tug on his line ended the similarity abruptly.

"Dad! I think I caught one!"

Jonathan Kent quickly sat up straight. "You think? Son, look at that line! Either you've caught a whopper, or there's a scuba diver with a strange sense of humor down there tugging your line. Reel it in!"

It was, in fact, a whopper of a fish. Even with his super strength, it took Clark a good minute to bring the fish to shore. If he had simply pulled, the fish might have gotten away. It took a combination of pulling, waiting, and coaching from his father on when to pull and when to wait to drag their dinner to the lakeshore.

The fish was almost too large to fit into the cooler they had brought, but rather than carry it all the way back in their hands, Jonathan stuffed it in. The other fish they had caught had been too small to keep, and they had thrown them back. Clark had even managed, to his father's amusement, to catch the same puny carp twice. He could have sworn that the little fish had glared at Clark as he was freed for the second time.

"I'll clean it and gut it if you carry the cooler back. How's that?" Jonathan knew that carrying the cooler would be easy for Clark, and that was his intent. The Kents had meant it when they agreed that they would take care of Clark instead of the other way around on this vacation.

Clark grinned at his father. "Sounds good. Dad?"

"Yeah, son?"

"Thanks for today."

Jonathan grasped his son's shoulder in a gesture of affection. "You're welcome. It was my pleasure. We should do this whole father/son fishing trip thing more often. When was the last time we did this?"

Clark's brow furrowed in thought. "I think it was last summer. It was fun then, too. Until Pete and his dad showed up at your secret fishing spot and made enough noise to scare all of the fish away. Well, it was still fun, just different fun."

"If I remember correctly, you and Pete decided to swim instead. Something about a cannonball competition?"

Clark grinned. "Nobody makes a bigger cannonball splash than Pete!"

"I still don't know how Ross knew about the fishing spot. My dad told me he never told anybody about it." Jonathan scratched his head in remembered confusion.

"That's exactly what Pete's dad said. He thought you stole his spot."

"Well, he was obviously mistaken! Here, take the cooler. Don't bring it inside. You know your mother's rule about fish."

"Yeah, 'you catch it, you clean it, I'll cook it'. Not too bad of a deal, especially since you volunteered to clean it."

Father and son made their way back to the cabin, laughing and talking. Martha heard their approach, and quickly wiped tears of happiness from her eyes at the sound of her son's laughter. From the sound of it, the afternoon of father/son fishing had been successful.

Throughout the day, the Kents noticed vast improvements in Clark's mood and spirits. He had seemed happy and carefree. Seeing their son acting like himself again was all the reward they needed. After a delicious dinner of fresh fish, cornbread, and broccoli with cheese, the family played a competitive game of Pictionary, wherein it was discovered that none of them should give up on farming to become an artist. At one point Jonathan drew a cow that looked so much like a dog that Martha and Clark

had nearly laughed themselves sick. Martha had teased her husband that perhaps he should put a cow on a leash and walk it around town. Luckily, Jonathan was a good sport, and on a later turn, Martha drew a stick man who appeared to have been stabbed through.

"It's a paper boy! He's delivering newspapers, see? It's under his arm, not through his body, Jon!" Martha protested her husband's criticism of her 'art'. "Clark? It's a paper delivery boy, not a stabbing victim, right?"

Clark took the pad of paper and turned it to the side, squinting as though trying to decide. "Sorry, Mom. It does kind of look like he's been impaled, especially when you turn it so he's lying down."

With an injured sniff, Martha snatched the pad away, turning it to the side. She immediately dissolved into laughter. "You're right. So, since we're artistically challenged, how about a game of cards?"

They played several rounds of Crazy Eights, and finally decided to call it quits around midnight. The first night in the cabin, they had all been so worn out from the heavy discussion that they had slept like logs. This night, however pleasant the day had been, would be different.

Clark lay down on the pull-out sofa bed, snuggling into his blankets. Today had been the first time he had felt so happy and content for quite a while. He had enjoyed hiking and fishing with his father, as well as the family game night. As he drifted off to sleep, he resolved to do something to show his appreciation and love for his parents.

His dreams started out peacefully. He was swimming in the lake back in Smallville with Pete, Lana, and Chloe. The young people were splashing and laughing, and Lana's smile lit up Clark's world. Without warning, the sky split open and a crash of thunder signaled the beginning of a terrible storm.

Pete and Chloe struggled to get out of the water, but Lana was frozen in place, treading water. Her eyes were huge and filled with terror as lightning flashed and the sky darkened.

"Clark! Clark, help!"

He heard her cry and immediately began swimming toward her. At the moment he reached her, a bolt of lightning struck him, sending painful jolts of electricity throughout his body. The water exacerbated the power of the jolt, and Clark was powerless to move. He could not save Lana, he couldn't even save himself.

"Clark! Help us!" This time, it was Chloe's scream he heard. Pete was caught on some underwater obstruction, and could not surface.

The electricity continued to race through his body, even as he heard another familiar voice.

"Clark! You have to get me out of here. You've got to do something!" Lex had appeared inside the glow of the lightning, also caught in the painful onslaught of electricity.

Slowly, Clark reached out to Lex, and saw that Pete was still struggling. He reached out to Pete, and Lana began to sink. There was no way he would be able to save them all, he was going to have to choose.

The lightning struck again, and this time, a sickening green glow emanated from somewhere deep in the water. Clark felt the familiar simultaneous pain and nausea associated with the green kryptonite, and knew that he would be saving no one. He was going to die, and no one would be able to help him ...

"Clark!"

He heard his name called, this time not one of his friends, but his father's voice.

"Clark! Wake up, son. You're having a nightmare, you're dreaming!"

He felt strong hands shaking his shoulders firmly but gently. "Clark! Look at me, open your eyes!"

Slowly, Clark began to wake up from his nightmare, realizing that he was not being electrocuted, that he was lying on a soft bed, and gentle, loving hands were rubbing his back comfortingly. He sat up quickly, looking around as if to make certain that this was no dream.

His mother immediately hugged him tightly, rocking him back and forth as he let out a shuddering sob. "Mama's here, baby. Don't cry, I won't let anything hurt you. It was only a dream, it can't hurt you, not while we're here."

"Mom? Dad?"

Jonathan spoke reassuringly. "We're here, son."

"I - I dreamed that I couldn't save them. Pete and Lana and Lex all needed me, but - but there was lightning and kryptonite, and - and it hurt. I couldn't save them." He hid his face in his hands, embarrassed to have broken down yet again. "I'm sorry, you can go back to bed. I didn't mean to wake you."

Martha shook her head. "We're not leaving you alone after a nightmare like that. Scoot over."

Still shaking from his dream, Clark did as his mother said. Martha Kent propped herself up on her elbow and softly stroked her son's hair. "Close your eyes and sleep. I'll be right here."

Jonathan crawled into bed next to his wife, his arm around her and his fingers just brushing his son's shoulder. Even in sleep, Jonathan Kent protected his family.