TITLE: Scenes From the Blue

AUTHOR: Fatiferous Poet (Call me Fatey)
RATING: Teen – Some language and mild comic violence
GENRE: Action/Adventure / Romance / Angst
DISCLAIMER: Below based on characters not mine. They own the rights, etc.

CREDIT(s): The piece below contains two lines of a 'paper printing premise' from another project/author (Scribe).
SUMMARY: Clark Kent living and surviving in Smallville while Lang and Luthor are always heavy on his mind.

FEEDBACK: I love all types of feedback – any that are constructive so please leave a review! That way, I know your thoughts for future!! Thanks! - Fatey

CHAPTER ONE: Ships of Noah

The Kent Family Farm
Smallville, Kansas
U.S. of A.

"There's a page missing."

"Can you hear me? I said 'there's a page missing'..."

"Sorry Honey. What did you say?"

"There's a page missing from today's Planet. I was looking for Chloe's column and it was continued on page thirty-two."

"Really? The Daily Planet forgot to put in the page?"

"I doubt they 'forgot' to put in a page. They're a multi-million dollar organization and those machines hardly ever fail."

"They might have missed a page."

"I guess."

"You're probably not missing much."

"Except the rest of Chloe's column."

"Yes. Well, that."

"Wait a minute."


"Page fifty-five is in here."


"Yes... it's in here."

"Imagine that."

"Page fifty-five's been torn and it's... it's been torn in the middle where it would have been paired up with page thirty-two."

"Oh? Maybe it became caught in the machine."

"It's a well calculated, folded tear."

"Is it?"


"Don't look at me like that."


"Well what? What do you want me to do? Call and make a complaint?"


Okay. Her tone. He could hear her voice off in its tone. Guilty. She tore out the page and was now covering something up.

And not answering him. "Mom?!?"

"Yes, Clark?"

"What did you do with the page?"

A soft laugh, Martha continued clipping her hydrangea near the sink, still unable to look at him, "What possibly makes you think I did something with that page?"

Putting the paper down, he began circling the kitchen table, searching her nearby book stacks for work. "Where did you put it?"

Trying to be light, her eyes stealing a glance at his actions, knowing what he would do, Martha added, "I didn't put it anywhere Clark." Guilt, her eyes shifted back to the plant before looking down, "Not exactly."

He followed her gaze and frowned, looking through the cabinet door and then when he didn't immediately find what he was looking for, Kal-El X-rayed his vision further past the thick plastic of the garbage can. There. Finely shaped pieces of paper. Criss cross cut. Tiny strips of newsprint less than one inch in length. Shredded. "What on earth," the natural expression came out of his mouth. "What did you do? Enron it?"

She stepped out of his way, leaning her hands over the sink into the cool, running water as Clark went mini-dumpster diving. Martha said nothing, knowing she should have left the page in there, but somehow had to hope this might work. Some days she couldn't take that hurt expression on his face and seeing him mope about near the barn this morning was one of those days. Jonathan would have told her to leave it be and let the boy become a man and Martha would agree with him to do so, but her baby's look got to her today. Most of the time she could do it, hold up on her own, but this morning wasn't one of those days.

Martha regretted doing it.

Picking up small bits of paper, under a discarded ground beef wrapping, Kal-El turned the finely shredded newspaper in his fingers and frowned. None of his kryptonian talents could piece it back together again but that didn't stop him for reaching in for another sample. There is was. It caught his eye.

The truncated phrase 'ana Lang'.

"What was the article about?" Quick, his chin turned up to look at Martha. Despite making new friends, even female, Clark had never gotten over the girl next door. "Mom?" His voice sharp when she didn't answer him right away. "What was that article about?"

A slow, deep breath, Martha evenly spoke, "Clark, don't take that tone with me."


She gave in a bit, "I know I shouldn't have done this, I'm sorry! It was a stupid thing to try to do... but it doesn't matter and you'd be better off forgetting there even is an article." Damn the luck of the draw and Chloe's article placement. Martha hadn't realized it was being continued on the other side of that page. "It's... it's the lifestyle gossip column." Nothing but apology was worn on her face.

Eyes narrowing, not at her actions as much as what 'gossip', 'lifestyle' and 'Lana Lang' might have in common, Kal-El excused himself without much by means of words. Instead, he was gone in a flash with the front door left swinging open and closed, as if by the wind. "Oh Clark..." Martha sighed, guessing where he might go or do.

The Kent Farm flew by his vision, every detail perfect and seen despite how fast he was traveling over the land. In seconds he was zooming past the Kapatelis farm, past 'Criss Cross Point' where the two main freeways met and onto the rural city line where farm lands gave in to what was considered built up downtown. Right before the cornfield edge is where he slowed, coming to an abrupt stop to the human eye, however Kal-El felt nothing out of the ordinary. A slight jolt of his clothes and hair, but his organs remained in place as if he were standing still.

There it was.

Twenty feet out of the cover of the corn fields, across the street, was the corner Smallville Newspaper stand next to 'Cathy's Coffee Cafe'. Bold and quick was his advance, jaywalking across Highway Four with little worry that traffic might plow over him. Smallville hardly saw that type of vehicular activity at this time of day and if he did get hit, it would be the car that took on the damage.

The Daily Planet. The print looked so official and regal, coming out of big city Metropolis, but Clark Kent had no respect for the headlines that the paper donned. "Morning Clark," Bobby Raeton greeted, having known the boy since he was a toddler. "Didn't see you parking at Cathy's."

"Yeah," Clark looked over at the man, "I'm in stealth mode today." Bobby was a friendly man and Clark only played along because he wasn't in the mood for explanations. "How much for a paper?" He knew the price, already digging out coins from his pocket.

"Fifty cents on Mondays..." The older man began before Clark chimed in with him, "and fifty cents on every day but Sunday." The silver passed palms and Clark took the paper from Bobby who had unstacked one for him. Both men continued, "On Sunday, it's that times two plus a quarter."


There was hardly a moment to wait and he was flipping the top corner pages on a mission. Bobby watched him as the young man clumsily turned the pages in haste. "Looking for a sale Clark?" The Kent boy shook his head as his eyes began to read, fast. His expression went from tight to upset. "Something wrong there?"

Clark looked up, a torn feeling in his gut that he knew he had no right to be aching from. "No. Nothing. Everything's... fine..." Tucking the paper under his arm, he walked away from Bobby without saying a word and fumbled in his jacket pocket for his cell phone. Bobby Raeton watched Clark as he departed, noting the youth wasn't even watching where he was going and slightly banged into the free standing local paper for town. That paper, while considered competition because it was free-no-charge, had its front page whipped open after the corner was bumped. The wind catching the edge at the right moment and sending it soaring upward.

'Match made in heaven.'

'True love.'


He was a good hundred yards away before he made his call and put the phone to his ear, having every intent on calling Chloe to bitch up a blue streak at what her fellow co-worker wrote in the damn paper. Never mind the fact that he hadn't read the part on his mother yet. Only that Lana had been living with a certain rich bachelor in his large estate. Sitting down on 'Old Brownie', a large, local rock that had been on the side of the road for decades, Clark parked himself up on it, sitting to face the road as he heard the ringing on the other side.

Taking out the paper, he began reading the article on Lex and Lana again, not realizing that he had subconsciously dialed Lana's cell phone number and not his best friend, Ms. Sullivan.

Clark Kent
"Born in Space. Lost on Earth."