Similis

Doubling back to the barn, Clark's heart practically jumped into his throat when he finally located his 'twin'. "Haze!!" The words were wrenched from his suddenly-dry throat.



Haze was crouching, hunched over on the straw-covered floorboards, in evident pain. Skidding to a halt beside him, Clark wrapped his arms around his ailing companion, terrified that Haze might collapse completely again at any second. Pulling him up into his arms, he carried Haze up the stairs into the loft, and set him carefully on the old couch.



I knew I shouldn't have let him help with the hay! How stupid are you Clark?! The guy nearly died last night and you had him shifting half a barn full of bales this morning!



For the longest time Haze merely lay there, breathing raggedly, eyes tight shut. Resting directly against him, Clark pressed his face against Haze's, until his neck began to ache from the tension, his head pounding in time with his thumping heart. Finally he could stand it no longer, and had to look.



When warm eyes met his, Clark let himself breathe again. "What happened?"



Haze tensed and then deliberately relaxed. Reaching up he pressed his palms lightly against Clark's cheeks. Somehow the idea appeared fully formed in his head, as if Clark were remembering talking about this previously, except that he was certain that he had never had this conversation before.



Haze shook his head, as if confirming that they hadn't.



"Do you know what I'm thinking?" Clark whispered, not even surprised at the answering nod. "And you can let me know what you're thinking too?" Again the answer was in the affirmative.



"How are you doing this?" Clark wondered. Did that matter? "No… " He was immediately decided. "What matters is that you're okay. You are? Aren't you?"



Haze nodded, and in the next instant Clark understood that as he had blurred off, Haze had felt suddenly dizzy, had lost touch with him, and been left unanchored in a world that had yet to accept him as part of the natural order. Haze had not even suspected that Clark could move like that, and it had been a wrench to his recovering senses, as well as intensely painful.



"I didn't know!" Clark was stricken. He had hurt Haze, acted without once thinking about what the consequences might be. He was so stupid, and clumsy!



The reply was soothing, non-judgemental. Comforting fingers twined between his, transmitting the idea to Clark that this had not been Clark's fault, and that Haze had not known about the limitations of their connection either. There was a sense of question, and an offer. Could they explore this bond together?



"Sure." Clark gave Haze a watery grin. "That'd be neat." Now that the panic had receded, his companion's odd silence began to puzzle Clark. To not talk was one thing, but to not even yell out, that was another. "Haze, can you talk? At all?"



Haze tilted his head to one side and thought it over. After a few seconds he shook his head.



"You can't make any noises?" Clark persisted. "Not even a cough?"



Haze didn't seem to understand. Wondering how to show Haze what he meant, Clark remembered something he'd seen in an old movie. He was absolutely certain that he was really pulling this from his own memories, as he could clearly recall Martha telling his father off for making a sarcastic comment about 'mushy stuff'.



"Haze, give me your hand." He said, and when Haze complied, Clark lifted Haze's fingertips and placed them against his own throat.



Haze blinked, curious but evidently not alarmed.



"Uhmm, this is what happens when I talk." Clark told him, feeling just a little self-conscious. He hummed in his throat, running up and down the scale as far as he was able to manage. "The air goes in my mouth and runs over my vocal chords, which are somewhere here," He tapped the place he could feel moving the most. "And I use my mouth and tongue to form the sounds into words. But I know from Biology class that the actual process is kinda complicated…"



Placing his own fingers against Haze's throat, he gave him an encouraging look. "You try?" He suggested.



Haze definitely tried to comply, but although Clark could hear air being taken in, and moving out, there were no corresponding vibrations of the throat muscles on the way past. He used his x-ray vision to look at what Haze was doing, but since Clark wasn't sure what he should be looking for even having x-ray vision wasn't a lot of help.



"You can hear me, right?" He asked. Haze pointed to his ears and nodded. Clark clicked his fingers and Haze automatically turned to locate the sounds.



"So why can't you talk?" That was a mystery, and if there was anything Clark could not resist, it was a mystery.



Smiling Haze took Clark's hand in his, pressing Clark's palm over his mouth and nose, and holding them there.



"Haze? Don't do that, you'll pass out!" Clark warned.







Haze merely blinked and sat quite calmly, with his face against Clark's hand, as the seconds ticked past into minutes and on into handfuls of minutes. There was no sign of any inhalation, or of any pressing need for Haze to do so.



Clark gasped and sucked in air when he finally had to let go the breath that he had instinctively been holding, and he knew that he could hold his breath for a lot longer than the average.



Waiting, and watching, Haze was still quite relaxed.



"You should be turning blue by now." Clark realised. "But you're not. You look fine." He stared at his companion and took his hand away. "You don't really need to do that at all, do you?"



In response, Clark received the definite impression that taking air in through his nose or mouth was evidently some sort of learned behaviour for Haze. It had been adopted only because that was one of the imperatives included in Clark's biology, and therefore reproduced to an extent by Haze when his form had taken on the necessary aspects of Clark. Speech apparently didn't rank as a 'need-to-have'.



"So you panting meant you were in pain! Like a human crying out?" Clark's guess received a nod of confirmation. "Did it just happen? Without you even wanting to?" Again he received a nod in response.



"Camouflage." Clark decided. "Cool." He thought it over. "So what was it like where you came from?" For the barest second he had the sensation of being in a cold expanse, an airless vacuum, with only tiny faint points of light to indicate any form of direction.



"Outer Space?" Clark was amazed. "Wow, Haze, no wonder you used to be different." He used his x-ray vision again and deliberately examined the inside of Haze's chest. "But you have blood, and a heart, and … lots of other stuff in there. Is that all camouflage too? And how come you don't need air if you have circulation?"



Haze wasn't sure about that. He had no experience of seeing his own insides, old or new, and so much of what had happened to him since his arrival was still uncharted territory for him. He was certain of one more thing though…



"You run on energy!" Clark didn't know whether to be thrilled, or sorry. Did that mean that Haze didn't eat like Clark had to? Had he done something else wrong by making Haze eat breakfast?



The warm fingers that patted his cheek relieved all of his doubts. Haze was fine. He could eat and drink just the same as Clark did, he just didn't have to rely on it, any more than he needed to breathe in through his nose.



"Haze?" Clark looked into the other boy's eyes. "You aren't my age are you?"



When the reply filtered back, Clark understood that Haze was from a very long-lived race, possibly immortal as humans understood the concept, and that although he was also only relatively recently matured, he had still had far more time than Clark to grow into himself and to master his abilities.



"So you're alone too?" Clark said quietly, feeling the loss as if it were his own. Like him, Haze was the last of his kind, the only one left. Clark knew only too well how that felt. "Will you stay here and help me, Haze?" He asked.



Haze frowned in confusion, communicating that he would stay if that was what Clark wished, but that he was unsure of what use he could be to Clark, with knowing so little of this strange new world.



"Help me to grow into myself?" Clark asked. Smiling up at him, Haze squeezed his arm lightly, and the warmth that surrounded Clark was all the answer that he needed.



* * * * *



While Haze slid out of Clark's old worn sneakers, Clark bent down and diligently undid his bootlaces properly so that his mother wouldn't feel the need to give him another of her regular lectures about trying not to ruin his footwear.



"Clark!" Martha was already in the kitchen and sounding anxious. "Have you seen the …" She hesitated. "Our visitor?"



Crouching outside the screen door Clark couldn't help but grin. His mother couldn't tell them apart! This could turn out to be more fun than an extra birthday!



"Clark? Honey, is something wrong?" Clark heard his mother's voice waver. Fun was one thing, but Clark was far too tenderhearted to worry his mother.



"No, everything's fine, Mom. I was just getting my boots off." He called, standing up and putting his boots neatly to one side.



"Oh, my…" Martha looked from one to the other and then back again. Leaning to one side, she subtly checked for what should have been the one obvious difference…







"That's Haze, Mom." Clark told her, indicating his companion.



"Uhm, hello Haze?" Martha looked a little shell-shocked. "Nice to have you with us. I hope Clark has been looking after you properly?"



Haze smiled politely, nodding in reply.



Hurrying past Martha and grabbing a freshly baked muffin from the tray as he went, Clark tossed it to his 'twin'. "Haze can hide his wings." He informed his mother happily.



"He can?" Martha blinked as Haze caught the muffin out of the air and examined it with interest. "Clark! Leave those alone. They're for the Talon." She said, without even turning to look at him, apparently her 'mom sense' recovered awfully quickly.



"Aww, Mom!" Clark protested, until he spotted an unexpected benefit to having a 'brother'. Shamelessly he seized his opening. "Haze has one, why can't I?"



"Haze didn't take one. He was given one." Martha reminded him. "And I can't very well put it back now that it's been handled, can I?"



Haze immediately looked at Clark, broke the muffin in half and held one portion out to him.



Clark grinned, wandered back over to where his 'twin' was standing, and accepted his 'prize'.



"Oh, how sweet!" Martha announced.



"Mom!!" Clark was instantly scarlet. Did his mother practise at being embarrassing or did it come naturally?



Haze didn't seem the slightest bit bothered. He simply opened his mouth and popped his half of the muffin in, chewing thoughtfully.



"Do you like that, Haze?" Martha wondered, hustling Haze into a seat at the table. Haze nodded.



"Clark, pass me my tea, would you honey?" Martha glanced over at the far counter meaningfully.



Clark rolled his eyes skywards. "Sure thing, Mom." Why did people always wait until he had sat down before they asked him to fetch things? He was about to get up and get the cup, when a subtle tug caught his attention. A tingle of mischief prickled through their link.



"Do it." Clark nodded.



Haze grinned like a Cheshire cat and gestured.



Martha's squeal of shock left the glass in the windows rattling, but to his credit, Haze did not let a drop spill. The brimming cup settled tidily onto the table right in front of Martha, leaving her to stare at it with wide uncertain eyes.







After a few seconds the sound of pounding feet alerted them to the arrival of Jonathan Kent. "What's the emergency?" He barked.



"Uhmm." Clark swallowed hard. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea after all? By his expression, Haze was beginning to wonder too…



"I, uh, had a little surprise." Martha managed to say. She looked at their guest reassuringly. "It wasn't the boys fault really, as much as it was mine." She gave Jonathan an apologetic look. "Sorry, sweetheart. I'm fine, really I am. Lets just say that Clark isn’t the only one who can do … unusual things."



"Unusual things?" Jonathan frowned at the little group around the table. Then looked again. And again. "Clark?"



"Dad." Looking up, Clark met his adopted father's eyes.



"Ah." Jonathan nodded, satisfied. "And you must be …"



"This is Haze, Dad."



"Haze is it? Clark, let the lad speak for himself, son."



"I don't think he can, Dad." Clark said quickly.



Jonathan thought that over for a few seconds. "Then how do you know what his name is?" He wondered.



"Uh…" It seemed like a perfectly reasonable question, but how to answer without freaking his parents out totally? Clark already knew HE didn't mind about Haze being in his head at times, but he didn't expect his parent's would take it quite so easily.



Haze had been observing the interplay between the two of them with interest, so when Clark gave him his best 'help me out here buddy?' look, he was ready to oblige.



Gesturing toward Clark, Haze touched a hand to his own throat, and shrugged in negation. Standing gracefully, he walked over behind Clark and pointed first to Clark, then to himself, and then out to the field.



"Something to do with the way you got here?" Clark said aloud, wondering why he should think about that right now?



Haze nodded and gestured for him to continue.



Clark shifted uncomfortably in his seat, aware that both his parents were looking at him as if he were completely certifiable, or else about to predict the next set of winning lottery numbers.



"You were hurt bad." Clark remembered. "I was the first one to touch you…" Inspiration struck. "You copied me because this isn't your world and you couldn't survive here the way you were. I got your name a bit wrong this morning, didn't I? It's really…" Clark struggled with the faint impressions of remembered sounds dancing at the very edge of his thoughts, grateful again for his steel-trap of a memory, "Hayzir?"



In response Haze gave a curt nod, then made a pinching gesture with his thumb and forefinger.



"But you like me calling you Haze better?" Clark continued. He glanced at Haze, noticing how the sensations filtering over from Haze were changing. "Oh." Understanding dawned.



"Clark?"



"It's nothing to worry about Mom, Haze is just unhappy because he doesn't have that life any more…" Clark said, feeling sympathy for his duplicate. "Because he's like me now…"



"Like you, son?" Jonathan frowned. "How?"



"Not just the alien powers thing." Clark said, taking a rough guess at what his father was asking. "Although Haze already showed me that he can do some pretty cool stuff. No, what I meant is that Haze is also the last of his kind."



"Clark!" Martha stared at Clark aghast. "How could you do that? Talk about this so openly? Don't you realise that you just left yourself vulnerable to someone who is effectively a total stranger?"



"Mom… Dad … Haze already knows what I am." Clark said softly, feeling more than a bit insulted that his parents would so easily doubt his judgement. "He's seen most of what I can do. He can hardly expose ME for being an alien when he's one too, can he? Besides, in case you didn't get it yet - he's in my head."



"In your … He's reading your mind?!" Jonathan was not happy with that. By the way Martha was staring, neither was she.



"Some." Clark shrugged. "Maybe not the way you're expecting though." He smiled at Haze. "It's more like I'm remembering things as if they'd happened already. I think somehow Haze and I have a connection between us, something that Haze is using to help him understand about things here." He hesitated, trying to put what he felt into words.



"I'm beginning to wonder if it doesn't also work on a more physical level as well? That could be how Haze was healed after he and I touched, and why it was me that Haze needed and not just somewhere warm and safe to rest? I don't see how it could be mind-control though. It's not really words, just ideas, mainly what Haze wants. No," He amended, "More like what he really NEEDS me to know."



Even before he finished speaking, Clark realised that his all-too human parents had totally missed the point. Across the table, the Kent's continued to exchange concerned looks.



"Can you shut the connection down, Clark?" Jonathan wondered.



"I guess." He hadn't even thought about it. Come to that, did he actually want to try? What was so wrong with their current arrangement? Then again these were his parents, and they had been right about things before.



"Try." Martha told him firmly.



The fingers on Clark's shoulder tensed as the other youth fidgeted slightly and then stepped away. At the same time Clark felt the angel's mind withdrawing from his immediate awareness.







For a moment Clark considered what his parents were telling him to do. He thought about the touch in his mind and how comfortable it was, about what it would feel like to lose that again. And there was something annoying in the way that his parents were automatically assuming that he was being victimised that rankled him.



What makes them think that their way will be so much better for me, anyway? How could they know that?



Reaching out again to Haze, Clark found the contact blurred and tasted a tang of resignation and even despair in their shared link. Was the angel so resigned to the inevitability of losing the decision that Haze was not even going to protest?



He's just going to give in? To let me break the connection between us just like that, without even questioning it?



At that realisation something in Clark rebelled. That's just SO unfair! As much as he loved and respected his adopted parents, he couldn't simply let them go on thinking that they had the right to treat him as a child for the rest of his life. He reflected that perhaps it was time for him to make a small stand for what HE wanted. I promised to look after Haze, and I'm going to...



"I can't." He said simply.



"Can't … or won't?" Martha cast a quick look at Haze. "Are you sure that Haze isn't somehow making you do this Clark? That he isn't putting pressure on you in some way?" In that moment she looked positively dangerous.



Clark had seen how seriously his parent's treated his 'secret' before this, but somehow this time seemed different. Somehow having it directed at Haze made it feel, ... Dangerous.



"You both know what I can do, do you really think that Haze could force me to do anything?" Clark asked. He almost went one step further and accused them of being the ones trying to force him into something he didn’t want, but thought better of it. They would never believe that Haze wasn't directing him if he did something so obviously out of character.



"Then close the connection." Jonathan's voice was brusque, a sure sign that his temper was rising.



"I'm sorry, Dad, even if I knew how, I won't." Examining his situation had produced at least one positive effect, it had made Clark realise something that he had simply overlooked until now. How could he have possibly forgotten THAT? "Someone will definitely be hurt if I do that. "



"I knew it!" Jonathan stood up sharply.



Haze simply stood there, passively waiting.



"What are you doing to my son?" Jonathan demanded.







"Stop it, Dad." Jumping to his feet, Clark purposely blocked Jonathan's access to Haze. "It's not what you're thinking. Haze hasn't been trying to influence me; in fact he's done everything but that." He turned to his duplicate. "You still need this connection between us, don't you, Haze? You need it pretty badly. In fact, I'm guessing that right now you'd die if you lost it. That's why you got so ill earlier…"



Haze merely shrugged.



"Tell me I'm wrong." Clark insisted gently.



Shaking his head, Haze stared meekly at the floor.



"You can't can you, because I'm not wrong about that." Clark was shocked at how easily Haze would have given up quite literally everything for him. "You truly can't live without me right now…"



"But he was going to let you …" Martha started to say. She looked wonderingly at Haze.



"Yes. He was." Clark reminded her. "Haze would rather die than force me into anything, Mom. Only I'm not going to have him pushed into making that choice." He looked at his father and Jonathan nodded, finally accepting that this decision was Clark's to make.



Biting his lip, Haze bowed his head, staring at his feet.



On impulse, Clark put his hands on Haze's shoulders. "Don't Haze! Don’t beat yourself up over it. It doesn’t matter. Whatever anyone else may think or say, I honestly don't begrudge you a thing." He tipped Haze's chin up until Haze had to meet his eyes.



"And I understand only too well what it's like to be different. If I'm sorry about any of this Haze, it's that you won't have the chance to be normal here, and that you'll have to hide what you are just like I do."



Shaking his head, Haze flung his arms around Clark, pressing against him.



Relieved beyond measure, Clark hugged back, not in the slightest bit concerned how his parents might view it.



"I guess that means that Haze likes you just the way you are?" Martha dabbed a sentimental tear away from her eyes with the edge of her sleeve.







"But how do we go about explaining how Haze got here?" Jonathan wondered, pulling out a seat and easing down onto it, coffee cup in hand. "People are going to ask questions, and we can't exactly give them the right answers."



"Well, we could hide him here for a while." Martha sighed. "Make sure no one else sees them together? Until we decide what to do?"



"No." Clark hadn't meant to interfere but he felt that warm hand close tighter over his and had to speak up, for the both of them.



"Clark?" Jonathan waited for an explanation.



"Haze doesn't want any of us to lie for him, lying makes him feel wrong, it goes against his nature, and I can feel how it worries him. I don't like it either, come to that."



"Then what can we do?" Martha sounded uncertain.



"Haze will need papers, son… An identity?" Jonathan reminded Clark. "And it's not as easy these days as it was when we got you. Not that it was all that easy back then."



"Your father's right, honey." Martha neatly prevented Jonathan from explaining about the evils of Lionel Luthor. Apparently Clark wasn't the only person who felt that early mornings were the wrong time for dragging out and confronting all the ills of the world.



Clark looked at his duplicate. "What do you want us to do, Haze? It's your decision as much as ours."



Haze tugged at the end of his shirt, or rather the shirt of Clark's that he was currently wearing, mulling it over.



"Maybe, we could tell the truth?" Clark said suddenly, not really sure if this was his idea or Haze's?



"Clark?" His mother frowned at him. "What do you mean?"



"Call the Sheriff and say that while we were doing the fence, we found Haze unconscious, and that we took him indoors because the storm was starting."



"That could work, Martha!" Jonathan was seeing the logic in that. "There were severe weather warnings posted all day yesterday. No one else need know that we never even considered taking Haze to the hospital."



"And the phone was out when I tried to ring Lana and check her delivery yesterday morning, so we couldn't have called out. It was still off when I went to bed." Martha remembered. "Although it was back on when I tried it first thing this morning."



* * * * *



"Nice to see you Sheriff Adams." Jonathan offered a relatively clean hand and the Sheriff shook it with only minimal reluctance.



"Mr Kent. What is it with your family? Always in the middle of some problem or other." She observed curtly. "So what's on the table today? Conspiracy theories? Flying tractors? Flocks of mutant cows?"



"Might be even stranger than that, but you're right about the problem part." Jonathan answered very politely. "You'd best come in."



The Sheriff followed him into the kitchen and narrowed her eyes at the tall youth standing by the counter. "Morning, Clark. You the problem?"



Haze blinked and looked down at the small woman.



"Cat got your tongue?" Sheriff Adams peered up at him. "I would have thought that your folks raised you better."



"We don't know how this young man was raised." Martha interrupted, not at all happy with the not-very-subtle insinuations. "Since he can't tell us."



"Ma'am?"



"This is not our son." Martha told her tightly.



The Sheriff sucked in air through her teeth and frowned.



"You say not?" She looked the flannel shirted figure up and down, and pursed her lips. Usual sneakers, jeans, shirt, face, eyes, hair, height … Ergo Clark… She noted that the boy's habitual worried expression was curiously absent … now that WAS odd …



"Morning Sheriff." At that moment Clark wandered in through the porch door, having just finished the day's fresh produce deliveries, small worried frown set firmly in place between his dark brows. "How are you?" He asked politely.



"Confused." Came the immediate reply. "And getting more so by the minute…"







"So you say this young man can hear just fine as far as you can tell?"

"Yes ma'am." Clark tried his best not to squirm while feeling like he was under the world's biggest microscope. Maybe getting the Sheriff hadn't been one of his better ideas? Then again, maybe it hadn't been HIS idea…



"But he can't read or write and you think he can't talk?" Sheriff Adams noted that down in her pad. "Because you haven't heard him make a sound since you first found him?" She glared at Clark across the table.



Clark resisted the urge to slide down in his chair and hide, "Yes ma'am. To all of that." He answered carefully.



"Then, in the absence of any ID or apparent means of communication, how do you know what to call him?" Adams barked.



"Uhm, we don't?" Clark tried.



"No? Haze sounds like more than an arbitrary word."



"I couldn't just call him 'hey you'. That would have felt wrong." Clark stuck with the story that they had thrashed out over the breakfast table.



"Hmmm." The Sheriff scribbled a line through something on her pad and fixed him with a hard stare. "Why? I mean - why that particular word?"



"Because like I told Mom, I first saw him through the early morning haze, lying on the ground."



"Okay." The tone of voice made it abundantly clear that the Sheriff did not believe that to be especially likely, but that she was going to play along until some evidence appeared to the contrary. "So, you can't speak? I'm just checking…" She glanced up at Haze, who had been staring out of the window for most of the conversation. "Young man!"







Haze forced his mind back to the present, ignoring the sharpness in that tone as he turned to face the Sheriff. Given the numerous distractions affecting his current state it was not easy for him to stay consistently focussed, and these additional complications were not helping.



Waves of emotion radiated out from this woman, and off of the rest of the family, but the most distracting elements were coming from Clark: the negative emotions from the Sheriff were impacting heavily on Haze's insecure and overly sensitive young friend.



The maturing warrior had already realised that it was very much part of Clark's nature to want to be liked and to help people. For himself, Haze didn't much care either way, but he felt obliged to make life easier for Clark wherever possible, not that he could see how to do that at the moment…



Unless …





Sensing that Haze was about to be on the receiving end of the Sheriff's irritation, Clark sat up a bit straighter. "I don't see why you're shouting." He complained. "Haze hasn't done anything wrong."



"You want to stay or not?" Adams asked sharply.



The spotlight fell firmly back on Clark, or at least that was the way it felt. He hung his head. "Yes ma'am."



"Then interpret whatever it looks like your new friend wants to tell me if I ask you to. Other than that, keep a lid on it."



"Sheriff?" Jonathan looked up from across the room.



Clark could read his father pretty well and right now Jonathan was plainly wondering why the Sheriff should want Clark involved in this? Since she normally couldn't wait to get rid of him…



"I'm not particularly fluent in 'modern teenager', Mr Kent," Adams explained. "The youth of today may as well be aliens, as I find myself to have very little in common with most of them."



"You and me both." Jonathan admitted. The two shared a moment of what was obviously purely adult amusement.



"Besides, silent or not, this lad and your boy have obviously developed a rapport." The Sheriff concluded. "Might as well make use of any advantages we may have."



Nodding, Jonathan vanished gratefully back behind his paper.



Although when he thought about it, Clark didn't seem to be able to hear any pages turning.







"So." Sheriff Adams glanced briefly at Clark, before fixing her gimlet stare back on Haze. "What do you remember about where you came from, young man? Don't suppose you have any ID, do you?"



Haze gave her a searching look and shrugged. Very carefully, he reached out with his innate talents and began to try to subtly influence the Sheriff, to round off some of the hostility in the woman's attitude. It was only once he had fully committed to the task that he realised that his control wasn't as deft as usual.



Probably due to not being fully adjusted to this new body yet.



After a particularly strong surge of effort, just for an instant Haze was quite worried that he might have overdone it, although the Sheriff seemed to be okay, at least as far as he could tell. She was eyeing Clark with narrowed eyes, which seemed to be normal enough for her judging by Clark's memories.



Haze relaxed. No harm done.



"We'll get back to that one." Adams decided. "Any idea of how you came to be out in the lane?"



This time, Haze was able to be more forthcoming. He gestured with both hands in a circular pattern.



"So, a vehicle, huh?" Finally offered something that she could get her teeth into, Adams became increasingly animated. "Was it a Semi, or smaller?"



Clark gave Haze a secret smile, both knowing that it was nothing but the absolute truth, and that neither of them could be held responsible for the facts being misinterpreted. Then again how many people were likely to pick 'crop-circle' as a means of transport?







By the time the Sheriff had run out of questions, and probably also out of oestrogen by her darkening frown, they seemed to have established that the furthest back that Haze could remember was being dropped, bewildered and semi-conscious, out of the back of a large and mysteriously anonymous vehicle on the previous morning, by a person, or persons unknown, and that his abductor, or abductors, had apparently intended leaving him for dead a short way along the main road from the farm.



It had also been officially recorded that, having been lucky enough to hear the clatter of Jonathan and Clark putting in the new fence, Haze had somehow managed to stagger onto the property only to collapse just at the edge of the grass, from where he had been taken immediately to the bosom of their family, or for the sake of the official records: the Kent's spare bedroom.



"We'll post the picture of this young man on the appropriate networks," Sheriff Adams told them, tucking her digital camera back into its case.



"Along with instructions for anyone having any information on his identity to get in touch with me." She hesitated. "I can't force you to go to the hospital young Haze, and by this point you're probably well out of danger, but I do strongly advise you to get your head checked out anyway, even if you don't think you have any new holes in it?"



As she slipped her notepad back into its holder, she paused and took another quick look at Haze. "Course, it's possible that this amnesia could be as a result of emotional trauma, maybe from the abduction or even before it? Wouldn't be the first case I've seen in my time." Pursing her lips, she took a deep breath.



"Since there seem to be no objections, I'll have a word with the Judge and see if you can't stay here? In my opinion you may actually already be related in some way to one of the members of this household, and whatever the circumstances, someone seems to have gone to a lot of trouble to get you here." At the matching expressions of disbelief from the householders, Adams raised a calculating brow.



"Mr and Mrs Kent, I appreciate that as far as you know Clark is an only child. However I just can't believe that two people so absolutely,"



Everyone else in the room held their breath as they heard the very deliberate emphasis on the 'absolutely' part.



"Identical looking could be any sort of coincidence." The Sheriff finished.



Clark felt a sudden shiver run up his spine…



"Perhaps this could be something to do with Clark's birth parents?" Adams continued. "Hopefully we will find out more as the investigation proceeds." Getting to her feet, the Sheriff tugged her jacket into order and prepared to take her leave.



"Someone out there must know who this young man really is." She said confidently. "Kids don't just drop out of the sky without warning… Not even here in Smallville. Something wrong, Mrs Kent?"

Over by the kitchen counter, Martha was trying unsuccessfully not to choke on her coffee. She waved them away with tearing eyes. "No, it's fine... I'm fine… Just swallowed the wrong way!"