Dated to December 28th
After Clark's argument with Bart, Xander talks to his roommate about the whole clone thing and how Clark is afraid of his future. Not much is resolved, but he gives Clark something to think about.
Clark Kent laid down and stared at the ceiling. He'd been holed up in his room since Bart left. He came out every now and then to grab something to eat, but for the most part he hadn't felt like eating. He was still equal parts angry and disappointed and confused about everything that had happened with Bart and the boy who called himself Conner Kent.
There were many things that he regretted about their confrontations, which mostly amounted to him wishing that he had been calmer and hadn't let them rile him up. He just wasn't sure what else he could say. He kept running the conversations over and over in his head and they all turned out the same.
Xander had been in the hut-now-yurt when the argument had occurred. He'd wondered if Clark's bad mood had something to do with his clone's arrival, since Xander had met Conner on the very day Clark's bad mood had started. When he'd heard Bart's raised voice outside, he knew that had to be it, even thought he didn't hear what was said. Not about to start another long stretch of not talking, Xander gave Clark a little while to calm down, before he walked to the doorway of Clark's room and leaned into the frame. "So, Can I ask what's up or is it too soon?
Clark rubbed his face and sighed, slipping his hands behind his head and shrugged. "I don't know." He was quiet for a moments before chuckling softly. "I don't even know if know how to explain it. It's all just..." He shrugged again at a loss for words.
He was at a loss but Xander knew he could supply some of them. "This wouldn't happen to do with a certain clone showing up would it?"
"It was sort of a catalyst," he replied. "It's been a sort of...mounting thing." He looked away and at the ceiling.
Xander sighed. "Which wouldn't happened to have started when I opened my big mouth about things I wasn't supposed to know, would it?" He walked further into the room, grabbing a chair and sitting on it backwards next to Clark's bed so he could lean on the back. "What happened?"
"Didn't help," Clark replied honestly. He was quiet for a few more moments because he thought about how to carefully word his answer. "My whole life I've spent keeping this...secret," he said. "About me. About where I come from. Who I am. What I can do." His brow furrowed. "And suddenly, there are all these people who know things about me, intimate details I've never shared with anyone because of what might happen to me, or them, or my friends and family."
Clark ran his fingers through his hair. "Now, I have people who know things about what I might do when I grow up. Things I haven't done yet. They..." What was the right word for it? "Worship, almost. This...vision of who I'm supposed to be." He looked at his friend, tilting his head just a little bit. "I just." How could he say it? What were the right words? "They try and tell me these important things that I have to do, what I'm going to mean, and I understand that it's important to them, but they don't even ask me if I want to know. Like I should shut up and just listen because why wouldn't I want to know?" A beat. "So, I asked them to not tell me about the things that I do in the future, even if it might not turn out like that."
Xander listened carefully, nodding slightly in some places. But there was one question he had to ask. "Why don't you want to know Clark? I mean, it's obviously a good future ahead of you. Isn't it at least nice to know you don't turn into a monster or something?"
"I guess in my head it's like someone offering to tell you when exactly you're going to die," he replied. "Would you know rather know, or not know?" Clark brushed some hair out of his eyes. "I wouldn't want to know. What kind of life are you gonna live if every choice you're going to make might be the choice you make that kills you." He shrugged. "Granted, it's not about death, but I'll always wonder: is this the right choice? Or if the choices I make were ever really mine to begin with." His brow furrowed and chuckled. "And on a more superficial level," he began, "what's the point of going through life if...all the big moments are spoiled?"
"You know, long before you arrived here, there were more people from my home here." Xander choose his words carefully as he recalled what were both happy and bitter memories. "One of them was a girl named Anya. I knew her slightly, we went to prom together, before I arrived here. But she, she came from a later point in our lives, four years in fact." He paused and took a deep breath, controlling the small pang in his heart that he still got sometimes when he thought about Anya. "Now, Anya used to be a demon, vengeance demon. And she didn't exactly learn the social graces that normal people learn as they grow up so it was hard for her not to be honest and tell me things about home that I didn't know. She didn't censor herself, telling me the good and the bad. About how I saved the world single handedly from my best friend who'd gone psycho on dark magic and how I left Anya at the alter on our wedding day. And yeah, I wonder sometimes about the choices I make, and how they might influence things at home...but that's the thing Clark. This isn't home. The choices you make here, aren't going to effect what happened at home. Someone might arrive here from after the date you die, yet your still alive and kicking here. Knowing that doesn't effect anything. I doubt we even remember the island when we disappear. Just because they are telling you about these grand things your meant to do, doesn't mean anything here. It might at home....but not here. It's a blank slate. And I think if you give them a chance, they'll respect that." He paused before giving Clark a bashful smile. "Did any of that make sense?"
"Yeah," he said. "I'm just." He shook his head. "I guess I don't know how to live in a world where my secrets aren't mine." Because at this point, they weren't, were they? Everyone knew them? That should be easy to deal with. It should feel like a relief. Maybe Clark had bigger trust issues than he ever realized? "Thanks," he said after a few moments, "for listening."
"Hey, no one asked you to figure this out all of a sudden. But that doesn't mean things have to stay the way they are either. You'll figure it out. And hey...if you ever wanted to know anything about your secrets, you now have a golden opportunity to find out." Then Xander held up his hands. "And I'm done with the whole preachy thing. And hey, what are friend for right?" He added with a grin.
"It feels like it," he replied. "Sometimes." He shrugged. Clark took a deep breath. "I miss my mom's pie." He nodded. "Warm apple pie." He tilted his head. "Think we'd get in trouble if we made some?"
Xander gave him a conspiratorial look. "I bet Michael's not doing anything and would help us not burn the compound down."
Clark grinned. "He just might." He hopped up and grabbed his coat. "Shall we?"
Xander grinned and fetched his coat and scarf from the other room. "Ready when you are."
Clark Kent laid down and stared at the ceiling. He'd been holed up in his room since Bart left. He came out every now and then to grab something to eat, but for the most part he hadn't felt like eating. He was still equal parts angry and disappointed and confused about everything that had happened with Bart and the boy who called himself Conner Kent.
There were many things that he regretted about their confrontations, which mostly amounted to him wishing that he had been calmer and hadn't let them rile him up. He just wasn't sure what else he could say. He kept running the conversations over and over in his head and they all turned out the same.
Xander had been in the hut-now-yurt when the argument had occurred. He'd wondered if Clark's bad mood had something to do with his clone's arrival, since Xander had met Conner on the very day Clark's bad mood had started. When he'd heard Bart's raised voice outside, he knew that had to be it, even thought he didn't hear what was said. Not about to start another long stretch of not talking, Xander gave Clark a little while to calm down, before he walked to the doorway of Clark's room and leaned into the frame. "So, Can I ask what's up or is it too soon?
Clark rubbed his face and sighed, slipping his hands behind his head and shrugged. "I don't know." He was quiet for a moments before chuckling softly. "I don't even know if know how to explain it. It's all just..." He shrugged again at a loss for words.
He was at a loss but Xander knew he could supply some of them. "This wouldn't happen to do with a certain clone showing up would it?"
"It was sort of a catalyst," he replied. "It's been a sort of...mounting thing." He looked away and at the ceiling.
Xander sighed. "Which wouldn't happened to have started when I opened my big mouth about things I wasn't supposed to know, would it?" He walked further into the room, grabbing a chair and sitting on it backwards next to Clark's bed so he could lean on the back. "What happened?"
"Didn't help," Clark replied honestly. He was quiet for a few more moments because he thought about how to carefully word his answer. "My whole life I've spent keeping this...secret," he said. "About me. About where I come from. Who I am. What I can do." His brow furrowed. "And suddenly, there are all these people who know things about me, intimate details I've never shared with anyone because of what might happen to me, or them, or my friends and family."
Clark ran his fingers through his hair. "Now, I have people who know things about what I might do when I grow up. Things I haven't done yet. They..." What was the right word for it? "Worship, almost. This...vision of who I'm supposed to be." He looked at his friend, tilting his head just a little bit. "I just." How could he say it? What were the right words? "They try and tell me these important things that I have to do, what I'm going to mean, and I understand that it's important to them, but they don't even ask me if I want to know. Like I should shut up and just listen because why wouldn't I want to know?" A beat. "So, I asked them to not tell me about the things that I do in the future, even if it might not turn out like that."
Xander listened carefully, nodding slightly in some places. But there was one question he had to ask. "Why don't you want to know Clark? I mean, it's obviously a good future ahead of you. Isn't it at least nice to know you don't turn into a monster or something?"
"I guess in my head it's like someone offering to tell you when exactly you're going to die," he replied. "Would you know rather know, or not know?" Clark brushed some hair out of his eyes. "I wouldn't want to know. What kind of life are you gonna live if every choice you're going to make might be the choice you make that kills you." He shrugged. "Granted, it's not about death, but I'll always wonder: is this the right choice? Or if the choices I make were ever really mine to begin with." His brow furrowed and chuckled. "And on a more superficial level," he began, "what's the point of going through life if...all the big moments are spoiled?"
"You know, long before you arrived here, there were more people from my home here." Xander choose his words carefully as he recalled what were both happy and bitter memories. "One of them was a girl named Anya. I knew her slightly, we went to prom together, before I arrived here. But she, she came from a later point in our lives, four years in fact." He paused and took a deep breath, controlling the small pang in his heart that he still got sometimes when he thought about Anya. "Now, Anya used to be a demon, vengeance demon. And she didn't exactly learn the social graces that normal people learn as they grow up so it was hard for her not to be honest and tell me things about home that I didn't know. She didn't censor herself, telling me the good and the bad. About how I saved the world single handedly from my best friend who'd gone psycho on dark magic and how I left Anya at the alter on our wedding day. And yeah, I wonder sometimes about the choices I make, and how they might influence things at home...but that's the thing Clark. This isn't home. The choices you make here, aren't going to effect what happened at home. Someone might arrive here from after the date you die, yet your still alive and kicking here. Knowing that doesn't effect anything. I doubt we even remember the island when we disappear. Just because they are telling you about these grand things your meant to do, doesn't mean anything here. It might at home....but not here. It's a blank slate. And I think if you give them a chance, they'll respect that." He paused before giving Clark a bashful smile. "Did any of that make sense?"
"Yeah," he said. "I'm just." He shook his head. "I guess I don't know how to live in a world where my secrets aren't mine." Because at this point, they weren't, were they? Everyone knew them? That should be easy to deal with. It should feel like a relief. Maybe Clark had bigger trust issues than he ever realized? "Thanks," he said after a few moments, "for listening."
"Hey, no one asked you to figure this out all of a sudden. But that doesn't mean things have to stay the way they are either. You'll figure it out. And hey...if you ever wanted to know anything about your secrets, you now have a golden opportunity to find out." Then Xander held up his hands. "And I'm done with the whole preachy thing. And hey, what are friend for right?" He added with a grin.
"It feels like it," he replied. "Sometimes." He shrugged. Clark took a deep breath. "I miss my mom's pie." He nodded. "Warm apple pie." He tilted his head. "Think we'd get in trouble if we made some?"
Xander gave him a conspiratorial look. "I bet Michael's not doing anything and would help us not burn the compound down."
Clark grinned. "He just might." He hopped up and grabbed his coat. "Shall we?"
Xander grinned and fetched his coat and scarf from the other room. "Ready when you are."