Letters From Clark

By Anonpip <anonpip@gmail.com>

Rated: PG

Submitted: November 2008

Summary: A companion piece to my story "Grandma Lois."

Author's Note: All characters are the property of Warner Bros, December 3rd Productions, ABC, and anyone else who may have a legal claim on them. The story, however, is mine.

Many thanks to NearlyNoelNeill who GE'ed this for me.

Thanks to Carol for beta'ing for me!

These are Clark's letters mentioned in "Grandma Lois." I had a vision for what they were and wanted to share it. That said, I don't feel like this is all of them. Not that I'm planning to write more, but I think there were more -- maybe Martha and Jonathan lost them, or Lois did, or maybe Lois just held some back from Cassie.

Then again, maybe I'm wrong. Clark did visit home a lot and call, so maybe no more letters were needed.

Regardless, these were the only ones I had access to share. :)


September 12, 1985

Dear Mom and Dad,

I wish we hadn't agreed that I wouldn't come home too often. I like it here, but I miss being at home, too. There are an awful lot of people here compared to the farmhouse.

I mean, the dorm is great -- there's always something going on. I just miss the quiet of the farm.

I'm not sure why I'm writing to you. It's not like we don't talk every day. I guess there are things I want to tell you that I don't feel comfortable saying out loud.

Things here are good and my classes are going well. And yes, Mom, I still agree that breaking things off with Lana was the right decision. I miss her, but somehow I do think it's better not wondering when I'll get to kiss her again, although it does make me a little sad to know the answer is never.

But it's hard having a roommate. I haven't been sleeping well -- I'm so afraid I'll float in my sleep and Joe will catch me. I mean, he seems like a nice guy and all, but I'm pretty sure he didn't sign up for an alien/rogue science experiment as a roommate.

Plus, and try not to laugh, but it takes so long to do everything when I have to go at normal speed! You know how I like to sleep until the last possible second every morning. It turns out there's a whole lot less of those when I have to shower and brush my teeth like a normal person.

That's not what I wanted to tell you, though. What I wanted to talk about is... I'm not even sure how to say it. Probably because it's a question for which I don't have an answer yet.

We had this discussion in philosophy the other day about our purpose on this earth. It was just a ridiculously typical college discussion, but it got me thinking. Why *am* I here? I mean, maybe there's a reason for everyone, but even if not, it seems like there has to be a reason for me.

It could be your theory of a Cold War experiment is true and I'm here to advance some sort of medical knowledge. Of course, if that's the case, it's not working. Or at least I don't think it is.

Or the other theory could be true -- that I'm an alien from another planet.

Or maybe I'm some sort genetic mutation -- I certainly look human enough.

To some degree, it doesn't matter, though. It seems like whether I'm an alien or a genetic mutation, or even a science experiment, I have these gifts. Or curses? I don't know. But I'm able to do things no one else can. There has to be a reason for that, doesn't there? And if not, should I be creating a reason for it?

I don't know what it is I'm trying to say. It's just that the class got me thinking about me and how I'm different from everyone else and wondering why. Not that I haven't wondered before, as you know, but now I am really trying to figure it out, you know?

Not that I've been able to.

Well, I guess I should go finish the reading for my English lit class.

Love you, Clark


November 17, 1985

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm glad it's nearly Thanksgiving break. I think being away from here would be good for a little while. Something happened today. Maybe it was even a good thing, but I'm not sure.

I've mentioned Carl to you before, right? He's the frat guy who lives at the end of the hall. He threw a party last night. It started out as a fairly typical party -- lots of kids showed up, Carl had used his fake ID to get beer, but it wasn't any crazier than a typical party.

But then someone tipped over a candle and lit the drapes on fire. It all happened so fast and the alcohol meant no one reacted as quickly as they should have.

I wasn't there. I had gone on a date with that girl I told you about, Natalie. Anyway, when I got back, it looked like the entire end of the building was in flames, but there were no fire trucks. I'm not sure how no one could have called the fire department. Apparently, they were scared about being caught for under-aged drinking or something.

Anyway, most of the kids were out when I got there and we were just standing outside (I called the fire department), but then I heard something. Ashley, who honestly just isn't popular enough to be invited to the party, was asleep two floors below the room where the party was and didn't seem to notice that her room had filled with smoke.

I started to get worried about her inhaling too much smoke before the fire department got there, so I ended up going in. In full view of the dorm.

I got her out, and everyone just thought I was really brave, but... I can't believe I did that. On the other hand, I couldn't let Ashley die, could I?

Love you, Clark


April 4, 1991

Dear Mom and Dad,

Paris is so nice. I wish you were with me here. Maybe one year I can fly you both over here for your anniversary or something?

I'm really glad I decided to take some time off to travel. I know I need to settle down at some point. But I feel like I need the time to decide what to do with my life, you know? I mean, I know I want to be a reporter, but I mean aside from that. I still feel like I have to have a higher purpose or something. I know I've been saying it off and on throughout college since that philosophy class, but I still feel like it's true. I just need to decide what it is.

Well, I'm not sure why I wrote this time. I just felt like it.

Love you, Clark


September 25, 1991

Dear Mom and Dad,

I met this family here today. The father is really high up in the local government. Their house is four times the size of your farm house, and Mom, you would kill for the kitchen they have.

It made me feel so sad. I mean, the people here are so poor. Most of them live in lean-tos. How can the government live like this when the people they serve are so poor?

It made me think again about my purpose here. About how I could abuse my power like the government man and his wife do. Not that they are bad people, by the way. They seem very nice. They are just caught up in a system where what they are doing is okay.

I'm so glad I have you as my parents. Maybe you're right and it's something innate in me, but I think it's something learned. I couldn't imagine doing that -- abusing my powers in some way.

I have to believe that I have them to help in some way, even if I haven't figured out what that is yet.

Love you, Clark


February 12, 1992

Dear Mom and Dad,

It's happened again. I'm not sure what to do. I'm sick of moving around, but I can't help it. I am safe, of course, and I'm living in Monaco now, but only plan to stay here for a week or two. With all the tourists for the casino, I can blend in, but Monaco isn't really my kind of place, you know?

So, about my leaving Israel. I hadn't meant to. I thought this time I would do as we talked about and try not helping. Realizing that sometimes bad things happen. That's a nice idea in practice, though, but not in reality. The reality is that I just can't do that. It's not like I even make a conscious decision about these things. I know, Dad, you think I should, but I just can't. Something like this happens and I react. I think later.

This time it was a little girl. You would have loved her, Mom. She was so sweet and little -- she turned two in January. It's so weird coming from the US -- this would never happen there, but apparently, it's all too common here. She was ambling along the road with her mother, and I was with them, chatting, when she passed something in the road and picked it up. It was a hand grenade. She put it in her mouth and chewed on it for a little while. It was only when she managed to grab hold of the pin that I realized what it was.

Should I have just let her die? How could I do that when I know the only problem I would have if I stopped her was having to move? I mean, I can't really be that selfish, can I?

I still feel so confused. I want to help. I'm coming to realize that more and more. I *need* to help. But I also don't want to keep wandering around like this anymore. I want to settle down and have a family. There has to be a way to do both.

Love you both always, Clark


July 20, 1993

Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm done. I can't take the traveling anymore. I'm so sick of getting attached to people only to have to leave when something happens and I have to help. It hasn't happened here yet, but I feel like I'm always on guard, waiting for the time when I have to abandon my new home. It's preventing me from enjoying anything I'm seeing.

So, I've decided, I'm coming home -- either in two weeks or when I need to leave here, whichever comes sooner.

But I've also decided that I can't stay in Smallville. I have to help people, and the need for my kind of help just doesn't exist in Kansas. I've always dreamed of writing for the Daily Planet and I think Metropolis might make a good place anyway.

I'm not sure how I'm going to manage it -- how I'm going to balance a full-time, permanent life as Clark Kent and still help, but I have to figure it out and all this traveling isn't helping. I'm hoping that maybe this is like when a child has trouble learning to swim and you throw him in the deep end.

Maybe forcing myself to do this in Metropolis will make me figure it out. If not, I'll have to move again, I guess. But I really want to make this work.

I'll see you soon.

Love you, Clark