What happens when Clark has his first nightmare.
Jonathan and Martha Kent looked up the stairs in shock as the screams of the little boy reached their ears.
"What's wrong, Jonathan?" Martha asked fretfully as she looked over at her handsome husband.
"I don't know, Sweetheart. Clark sounds scared over something," Jonathan said. He ran up the stairs two at a time and flicked the light on to his, now three-year-old, son's room.
Clark was thrashing around on the bed, his little face and dark hair drenched with sweat. Jonathan grabbed his son up into his arms and held him tight in his strong arms.
"Shh, Son. Daddy's here," Jonathan whispered softly in Clark's ear, causing the little boy to wake up and look up into Jonathan's eyes. The tears rolled down Clark's cheeks and onto Jonathan's blue plaid shirt.
"Lara," the little boy whimpered.
Jonathan looked over at his wife, who looked just as confused as he did. "Martha, what does that mean?" Jonathan asked, running his hand through Clark's dark thatch of hair.
"I don't know, Jonathan. Lara could be a person or a thing. It could mean almost anything to Clark," Martha said, sitting down next to Jonathan and their son.
"Martha, go get me a damp rag and a glass of orange juice," Jonathan said, rocking Clark back and forth in his arms.
"A rag and orange juice?" Martha asked perplexed.
"That was what my mother used to do whenever I had a nightmare," Jonathan said, rubbing the little boy's thin shoulders.
Martha went downstairs, leaving Clark and Jonathan, to get what Jonathan asked for. Jonathan listened until Clark's whimpers died down. Clark looked back up at his father, a glimmer of the tears still on his cheeks.
"Daddy's here, Clark. Everything is going to be all right, Son," Jonathan said, softly, smiling tenderly at Clark.
"Daddy," Clark said, his voice trembling slightly.
"That's right. I'm here, Son," Jonathan kissed his son's forehead gently. Clark wrapped his strong arms around Jonathan's neck and clung tight.
"Do you want Daddy to sing to you, Clark?" Jonathan asked, stroking the boy's black hair.
The boy looked at him wordlessly. Jonathan opened his mouth and started to sing a song his mother used to sing to him when he was little and had trouble sleeping; "Baby of Mine."
At the end of the song the mood broke as Martha in Clark's doorway started to clap. Jonathan and Clark looked at her as she entered the room with the glass and rag and put the items on Clark's night table.
"Thank you, Sweetheart," Jonathan said, gently wiping the boy's face with the rag. He thin held the little plastic cup to Clark's mouth and watched him drain half the cup.
Clark blinked his eyes sleepily as he looked into his father's dark blue eyes. "That's right, Son. Go to sleep. Daddy and Mommy will be here in the morning," Jonathan said, as Clark closed his eyes finally and fell asleep. Jonathan kissed his son's forehead and gently put him back into his bed.
Jonathan looked back at his wife. "Jonathan, do you still think that we shouldn't keep him?" Martha asked, her voice trembling with unshed tears.
Jonathan stroked his wife's red hair. "No. You're right, Martha. He needs us as much as we need him," Jonathan smiled as he looked at his son peacefully sleeping.
After that nightmare it had convinced Jonathan more of how much the child needed them.
14 years later Jonathan and Martha found out what that nightmare was about. Lara was the name of Clark's birth mother and she was a part of his earliest memory.