Fic: Summers (2/7) Clark Kent, Scott Summers [rated teen]
Fandom: Superman/X-Men (comicverse)
Characters: Clark Kent (Superman, Kal-el), Scott Summers (Cyclops)
Rating: Teen for strong language
Summary:There was a boy who fell from a burning plane and landed in a farm in Smallville, Kansas. He was adopted by a kind, old couple who could not have their own children. But they had plenty of experience raising boys who fall from the sky.
Disclaimer: Scott Summers (Cyclops) is the property of Marvel Comics, created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby. Clark Kent (Kal-el, Superman) is the property of DC Comics, created by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster. This work is for entertainment only; no money is made. Gosh darn it.
Author's Notes: All the chapters are available at my website but for those who want to read on LJ, I'll be updating it regularly at least twice a week if not more. It's just a coding thing.
=^o.O^=Scott woke up with a spike in his brain, a tube down his throat and the smell of a gas fire clinging to his memory. So he did what any nine-year-old would do in the situation: he cried. A strangely familiar voice told him to hold still, help was on the way but his head hurt and he couldn't breathe properly and his mom wasn't here. It was all too much; he sank gratefully back into unconsciousness.
He awoke again without the tube. His throat still hurt. He looked around. This wasn't home. This wasn't anything familiar at all. It looked like a hospital but what was he doing in one? Where was Alex? And Mom and Dad? He tried to sit up.
"Good afternoon!" A nurse entered with a styrofoam cup. "I had a feeling I'd need some ice chips and whatta you know, you're awake. While you have some of that, I'm just going to do a quick check, okay? I'll be asking some questions, too, but I know your throat hurts so just wiggle the fingers on your right hand for 'yes' and wiggle the fingers on your left hand for 'no.' Do you understand?"
Scott wiggled his right-hand fingers.
"Are apples fruit?"
He wiggled his right-hand fingers again.
"Is the moon made of cheese?"
He wiggled his left hand.
"Is your name Scott?"
Right hand wiggle.
"Do you have eighteen legs?"
Left hand wiggle.
"Do you have two legs?"
Right hand wiggle.
"You sure talk a lot, Scott." The nurse winked.
After all that Scott barely stayed awake for the whole test which was just following tiny flashlight and it made him angry because he wanted to ask about his mom and dad and Alex. Dad broke his leg once and they stayed in the hospital almost all day. He dreamed of fields of wheat on fire and air slapping tears from his eyes. He was still crying when he woke up again. This time, a teenager sat beside the bed reading a chapter book out loud. He even did voices.
"Who're you?" Scott asked. His voice came out scratchy.
He put the book down and handed a cup of ice over. "I'm Clark. Pleased to finally meet you awake, Scott."
"Where's Alex? And Mom and Dad?"
Clark looked away. "They're not here right now."
"Why?"
"Because... Do you remember why you're in the hospital?"
He nodded then, feeling guilty about the lie, shook his head.
"You got really hurt. You've been here for almost two months, sleeping so you can get better. And you are going to get better."
His head hurt. Scott's eyes drifted closed.
It was another day before Scott got the full story, this time from a doctor and the head nurse. His parents were dead. Someone took away his brother. He didn't have anyone to live with. Scott curled up in his bed and wished he could have just stayed asleep.
#
The teenager, Clark, came back the day after the worst news ever. Scott ignored him. They didn't talk at all until Clark apparently finished his homework and then, the older boy only said, "Good night." But he returned in two days, then two days after that then in another two days. He talked a lot, sometimes just because he was reading, but most of the time he talked about his farm. He had a lot of fun stories like when the piglets found a hole in their pen and got into the chicken coop where the chickens pecked them except for one piglet who was too fat and got stuck in the hole. Or the time they found aphids on the new cabbage shoots and Clark had to release masses of ladybugs and parasite wasps in the fields because they didn't like to sting him and the bugs flew around so thickly, they looked like red and yellow puffs of smoke. He also talked about the three old men who liked to sit in front of in the barbershop and argued about everything including whether or not the sky was blue. The way he told stories was like watching things on TV.
"Do you work here?" Scott finally asked.
"No. I just promised Alex I'd look in on you," said Clark.
Tears popped up in Scott's eyes. Suddenly, he missed his family so much. So much his whole body hurt in a way that had nothing to do with the accident. Not only that, but he was angry that the Masters' took his brother away, scared that he couldn't remember anything after his parents arguing about moving, and sick of being stuck in the hospital. He lunged at Clark's waist, clinging to him, wiping his tears on his shirt. Cautiously, Clark returned the hug.
#
On Clark's eleventy-fourth visit, his mom and dad came, too. Mrs. Kent looked almost old enough to be a grandma; her hair was kind of grayish-brownish-red. She smelled like pie. Scott knew at once he'd like her.
"I made this just for you," she said, bringing out a brown paper bag saturated in the smell of chocolate.
Mr. Kent used to have blond hair but it was pretty grey now, too. He looked nice but tired. He didn't look anything like Clark. Neither did Mrs. Kent. Maybe they fed Clark all the good farm veggies and ate fast food themselves. Clark told him junk food stopped growth and since he'd never had any, he was almost six feet tall even though he was only fourteen. Scott was halfway convinced.
The head nurse-- he was starting to hate her for being the bearer of bad news-- the social worker, and the doctor who took care of him the most entered the room as well, closing the door behind them. They all took seats around his bed. Scott hugged his brown paper bag close. He didn't like their faces. Those looked like serious, bad news faces.
"You've improved a lot since you came in," said the doctor as she flipped through Scott's chart. "Definitely a lot better than I would have thought for someone who was in a coma for so long. I'm so proud of you for working hard at getting better."
"Something's wrong," Scott said.
The grown-ups all looked at each other. The social worker, Lisa, decided to speak up. "It's actually good news. You've improved so much, you may be out of here in another two weeks. Isn't that great?"
"Do I go with Alex?"
"Scott, we've tried to get a hold of the Masters' but they simply haven't answered. You know hospitals cost money, right?" She waited for his nod. "Your mom and dad left money for you to use and that's what's paying for the doctors and nurses and medicine right now. Since you're almost all better, we could either use that money to pay for your room here or we could find a family for you to live with so we can put the rest of your money away in a bank for later. Also, the hospital's kind of a drag to live in anyway. I'm sure you'd prefer a real house with a yard and your own things."
Like in the cartoons, Scott figured a light bulb turned on just above his head. The Kents, especially, Clark, looked at him with shy little smiles. Especially Clark. "You want me to live with them."
"Honey, we want you to live with us," said Mrs. Kent. "Why, the way Clark goes on about you, I feel like I know you already. We've brought a few pictures of home so you can see what it'll be like."
"I can teach you to milk the cows," said Clark. "The elementary school is on the way to the high school and the teachers are really nice. At the elementary school, I mean. When we walk to school, I can show you the barbershop."
Mrs. Kent continued. "You and Clark will share a room. We're getting bunkbeds; won't that be fun? We can get you all new things just for you, like clothes and toys and beddings."
"The library lets us borrow things from other counties."
"You just tell me what you like to eat so I can whip it up."
"And you can meet Shelby, our dog. He's really smart except when it comes to the barn cats but, y'know, I think the cats are a little too smart sometimes."
Scott's brow wrinkled. He liked Clark. He liked Clark's mom's cooking. But there was Alex to think about. He leaned away. "It's not going to be forever, is it?"
Clark's shoulders slumped and he looked down. Scott felt like he just punched him.
"I want Alex to find me!" he said to explain. "If I go with you and Alex comes back, I won't be here. He won't find me." Like I can't find him.
"Scott, sweetie, of course we'll tell Alex where you went," Lisa said. "We just want you to live somewhere comfortable, where you already have friends while we straighten this all out. And once we do, we can talk about where the both of you will live permanently, okay?"
Mr. Kent still hadn't talked. Scott studied him and his weather-dug wrinkles. "Do you want me to live with you?"
He appeared to think about his words. Scott liked that. People who talked just to talk were kind of useless. "You been through a lot, young man. I want you to be happy. If you think staying here's going to make you real happy, then I'll let Clark visit as much as possible to keep you company. Now I might be a little biased but I think our place is great for a growing boy. We've got room to play, honest work, and we love kids. Any time you're ready, even if it ain't right now, we have room for you."
That helped a little. Scott's breathing came in easier; he hadn't even realized he was breathing fast. "I need to think a little."
"Of course," said the head nurse. "In fact, I think you should get right back to bed. You're starting to droop a little and it's just after lunch time."
Everyone stood up to leave, even Clark, and suddenly Scott was positive, just positive that he'd never see Clark again because he was sad because Scott wasn't sure if he wanted to live with him even though Scott did, he just wanted Alex a little bit more, so he pulled on Clark's shirt as he was walking out the door. "You didn't finish reading your book last time."
A smile slowly turned up the corners of Clark's mouth. "You're right. Ma, Pa, can I stay a bit to finish my story?"
Even though she had to tiptoe, Mrs. Kent kissed Clark's forehead like Scott's mom used to and Mr. Kent patted his back kind of like how Scott's dad did with his friends. Scott didn't notice how he clung to Clark's shirt the whole time, afraid to let go.
#
His first trip from Wichita to Smallville took a little under ninety minutes with frequent stops so Scott could rest out on the picnic tables at the rest areas. Lisa only had granola bars; they bought soda and chips from the vending machines.
"Now, remember, Scott, this isn't forever," said Lisa as they turned into the proper exit. "Depending on whether you and the Kents are a good fit, or we find your legal guardians, or Alex and his family, it can change. It's up to you to tell us what you want. We want you to be as safe and happy as possible, okay?"
"Okay."
"So if anything happens that you don't like, you call me, okay?"
"Okay."
"And I'll be checking up on you and the Kents once in a while to make sure everything's all right."
The air conditioner cooled the glass against Scott's cheek. He closed his eyes. "Okay."
Smallville lived up to its name; they passed the exit to the town twice and the "downtown" was one street with two stop lights. Despite his aching head, Scott stuck his head out the window. There was the barbershop exactly how Clark described it. He could even see the three old men in front around their backgammon table.
The farmhouse sat, squat and yellow, behind a log fence. A little red mailbox proudly said "Kent" on both sides. Clark wasn't there at first but Mrs. Kent gave them fresh-squeezed lemonade while they waited for him to come back from school. The grown-ups talked about school (the town just split the middle school into elementary and high school again), farm work (Clark did half the chores of the hired workers and did homework after supper straight until bed time) and flowers (Mrs. Kent own prize-winning dahlias and headed the Native Wildflower Conservation Association). Shelby kept Scott company; the Labrador Retriever-cross never tired of playing fetch.
When Clark did come home, he took Scott to the mended pig pen and pointed out the fattest piglet who couldn't escape. They walked up the western acres to eat some early pawpaws growing on the banks of a slough. They didn't talk much. Scott didn't mind. He liked people who could be quiet. He tailed Clark as he did his chores and even got to help feed the chickens. They were even dumber than Clark described, much to his delight.
The second trip happened only a week later. This time, it only took an hour. Mrs. Kent showed him Clark's room which was medium sized and neat. Glow in the dark stars decorated the ceiling and if Scott knew Clark, he knew the stickers were exactly where they were supposed to be. A huge star chart covered one wall and a map of the world covered the one beside it with cut-out pictures and scribbled quotes all around them. The map was weird though. It didn't have different colours or lines showing the countries. It had heights and depths of mountains and oceans instead.
"I like the look better," Clark told him when he asked.
Mr. Kent showed his workshop across from the barn where he was varnishing the last bits of wood for a bunkbed. "No one had any big enough for the two of you."
"I'm not that big," Scott pointed out.
"Hold out your hands."
He did, puzzled.
"Look at the size of them. Your feet, too. Wouldn't surprise me if you grew to be Clark's size."
His third trip was the last one. Lisa's trunk carried a bag of donated clothes and new underwear, school supplies, three of his favourite books from the playroom and a bucket of Lego blocks. Even though it was late in the morning, Clark was there at the front porch. So was Mr. Kent. Mrs. Kent had some pie, of course. While the grown-ups signed papers and talked other stuff, Clark lugged all of Scott's stuff up the stairs to their new shared room.
"You don't mind sharing?" Scott asked.
He shook his head. "Of course not. Unless you do?"
"Alex and me shared a room for a long time when he lived on the base. We had separate rooms in our new house--" Right then, Scott's mind stuttered to a stop and his voice with it. He felt Clark lead him to the lower bunk. The older boy's weight dipped the whole thing to one side as he sat, or so Scott told himself when he found he was leaning against Clark.
"I never want to replace Alex. For one thing, he's a lot smaller than me and I probably won't fit in his clothes." He paused, smiling with Scott did. "But I'd really like it if you wouldn't mind thinking of me as an older brother. 'Cause... 'cause I've always wanted a brother and I was kind of starting to pretend you were mine. Not that I want-- that any of us want-- to replace your family. It's just that...
"Look, Ma always said you always gotta make room for family, right? Room never runs out. So when we take you in, you're our family and when you find Alex and his foster parents, they're going to be family, too. Your mom and dad, even though they're dead, they're family. It just means there's more of us here to help out and have fun and... and... and all that stuff. Is that okay with you?"
Scott managed a nod.
"All right then. Want to try out your bed?" Without further warning, Clark had lifted Scott up over his head like he weight nothing and plopped him on the top bunk. Scott couldn't help himself; he giggled. "Now you're almost as tall as me."
"Your dad said I'd be as big as you. See?" He held out his huge hands.
"That right? Well, you got a lot more growing and eating to do before that happens. Let's see if Ma can help out with that."