Kryptonite and Scooter Ankles ||J. Kent ||

Part 5:

A/N: *watches hours of planning fly out the open window as I pursue a newish plot* well at least it's free --

*screamches loudly* I have no idea what I be doin 

__________

It took Clark Kent thirty minutes to get out of bed that morning, and another twenty to look halfway presentable to the general public. Heavens, he was a mess, and anyone could see that from a single glance. Whenever he was working, he wanted to be out on the look out for trouble; but when he was on patrol, all he could do was wonder where Jon was and if he was safe.

And then, of course, there was Lois. He'd pack up and live in the darned hospital if he could. It hurt both of them to know that their son wouldn't even think about going anywhere near it.

After checking in with Jon, who was still out cold in his bed, he forced a small breakfast down and left a note on the inside of his son's door, reading:

"Jonno, out at the Planet today, will be home for lunch. If you go somewhere, bring Krypto. Be safe. Love you lots,

Dad."

He stopped to kiss Jon's sleeping head before heading out for the day.

It took five minutes to get to the lobby, and two to get out on the streets. Clark felt awful leaving Jonathan at home, even a little irresponsible. But he was an investigative reporter, and the messy part of that job couldn't be done from home.

The designated form of transportation should have been the truck, and he was in the motion of unlocking the driver's door when there came a faint, but very distinct cry for help from not far off. The keys were stashed in his suit pocket, and in the next second, Superman was tracking down the source of the cries.

It took less than five seconds to apprehend two attempted kidnappers, five minutes to talk the frightened child — no more than ten years old, with brown pigtails and tearful eyes — out of hysterics enough to tell him who she was and where her school was, along with her parent's names. Then it was another ten minutes flying said child to school because such precious cargo needed special care upon delivery; human children were frozen quite easily up in the sky. Slower transportation was better appreciated for staying warm, acquiring little to no motion sickness, and enjoying the view. Then it was twenty more minutes spent reporting the events to one of the teachers on monitor duty on the school grounds, plus the extra five it took to acknowledge the other children brave enough to say hello while doing so.

After that, another fifteen minutes was spared helping an elderly lady and her little nephew bring groceries up to her apartment, five more accepting gratitude, and finally he was in the air again, finding himself closer to the Planet than home. Driving was a pointless concept now, and he would have flown over right away had he at least brought a bag to bring his clothes in.

Six seconds to make it back to the apartment's lot, two to get redressed in his suit and tie, and a full minute snapping an arm back onto the glasses he'd broke in half while dramatically ripping them off earlier. He took a quiet moment to X-ray up through Jon's room, and found his bed empty.

The truck wouldn't start.

It felt like such a long day, and it was barely even eight in the morning.

Clark prayed for a miracle.

Seven minutes to find and fix the problem — he was fast, sure, but even speed couldn't make up where one lacked in ability and skill, because let's be honest; whenever there had been an engine or tractor in need of fixing, Pa Kent was always the man for the job.