Slumped on a plastic chair in the hospital corridor, Locke dozed fitfully, his cowboy hat tilted over his face. His mud-stained work pants looked out of place in the sterile white hallway. The past 24 hours of constant vigilance had drained him, and even the soft chatter from the nearby nurses' station felt like a hazy lullaby.
"That's the farmer from the cornfields…"
"Heard he ran straight into the meteor crash site…"
"Good Lord, is that blood on his pants?"
The nurses' whispers floated into Locke's ears like feathers. He groggily thought about lifting his hand to adjust his hat, but his arm felt like it was filled with lead. In his daze, the sharp clack of high heels on the floor grew closer.
"Shh! Keep it down!" an older nurse hissed. "Didn't you hear? That blond boy's blood test results…"
Locke frowned under his hat. He should wake up, should tell them to stop talking about Dio's medical reports. But exhaustion crashed over him like a wave, pulling his consciousness back into darkness.
Until—
Cough, cough!
A deliberate cough jolted Locke awake. He shot upright, his cowboy hat clattering to the floor, revealing bloodshot eyes and messy brown curls.
The attending doctor stood before him, holding a chart, flanked by two nurses who looked sheepish. "Mr. Kent, your son's awake," the doctor said, raising his voice pointedly and glancing toward the room. "He's a bit… restless."
"Hey!"
Locke's sharp hearing picked up Dio's weak but defiant voice from the room. "Where am I?! Who are you people? Let me go, you jerks!"
That familiar outburst loosened the knot in Locke's chest. He nodded a quick thanks to the doctor and rushed into the room in a few long strides.
Dio was struggling to yank out his IV, while a nurse scrambled to stop him.
"You little punk!" Locke grabbed his son's shoulders, his voice trembling slightly. "Can you just behave for once?!"
"You scared the crap out of me! Where were you, old man? Waking up here nearly gave me a heart attack—" Dio started, but when he saw his dad's red-rimmed eyes, his bravado fizzled. He looked away awkwardly. "Fine, I'll chill."
Thud, thud, thud!
Rapid footsteps echoed as Martha stumbled into the room. "Locke, the nurse at the desk said Dio's awake!"
"Oh, thank God, Dio!" Her usually neat chestnut bun hung loose over her shoulders, tear tracks still visible on her face. The haggard woman pulled the blond boy into a fierce hug, squeezing like she was trying to meld him into her.
Dio froze, his ruby-red eyes wide. "L-Let go, Aunt Martha!" he protested, squirming uselessly. To his surprise, the normally gentle farmwoman's grip was iron-tight.
Just as he was about to call for his dad, a warm drop hit his cheek. He looked up to see Martha's red eyes and trembling lips.
At the foot of the bed stood Clark and Jonathan. Clark's blue eyes shimmered with tears, while Jonathan let out a relieved sigh.
But what shocked Dio most was Locke—the man who always seemed like an unshakable mountain, never showing a hint of weakness. Now, he leaned wearily against the wall.
"Geez, do you have to be so sappy?" Dio muttered awkwardly, but he stopped struggling, letting Martha hold him. He even stiffly patted her back. "I'm fine, aren't I?"
"You silly boy," Martha said, her voice muffled. "Do you know how worried we were?"
"Dio," Clark whispered, inching closer. "Mom fainted yesterday."
"Clark!" Jonathan cut in, but it was too late.
Dio's body stiffened. He stared at Martha's graying temples—those weren't there yesterday. A strange feeling welled up, like something was stuck in his throat.
So, I…
"Aunt Martha…" He awkwardly poked her shoulder. "Your… your hair…"
Martha looked up, wiping her tears with a handkerchief and forcing a smile. "It's nothing, just a few gray hairs. Compared to you being safe, that's what matters."
The room fell quiet.
Dio looked down, his blond hair hiding his expression. After a long pause, he mumbled, "Sorry… maybe I shouldn't have tried to save anyone."
Those three words, soft as a feather, stunned everyone. Martha even stood up in shock.
Getting Dio Kent to apologize was harder than making the sun rise in the west.
But then Locke strode over, pulling Dio into a tight hug. "I'm sorry, Dio. Dad was wrong."
"?!"
Dio's jaw dropped. His dad was apologizing to him? Before he could process it, Clark shouted, "Dio!" and joined the hug, followed by Jonathan and Martha.
The five of them ended up in a tangled group hug by the bed.
"Alright, alright!" Dio's muffled voice came from the pile, clearly embarrassed. "You're gonna rip my wounds open!"
They pulled back, only to see Dio's wounds were fine—his cheeks, though, were red as ripe apples. He fussed with his hospital gown, grumbling, "This is over the top! I'm not a toddler!"
Martha laughed through her tears, ruffling Dio's blond hair. "To us, you'll always be a kid who needs looking after."
Dio opened his mouth to argue, but a knock at the door interrupted. The doctor stood there, holding a report. "Mr. Kent, about your son's blood test results…"
Locke subtly shifted to stand in front of Dio's bed. "Any issues, Doc?"
The doctor adjusted his glasses, looking baffled. "The issue is… there aren't any issues. In fact," he flipped through the report, "every metric is not just normal but healthier than average. It's practically…"
"A medical miracle?" Jonathan chimed in, flashing a classic farmer's grin.
The doctor nodded. "Exactly. Given the potential radiation from the meteor, this is…"
"Thank the Lord!" Martha cut in loudly, clasping her hands in prayer. "It's a miracle!"
"Yeah, Doc," Clark added quickly. "Dio's always bounced back fast."
"Alright, alright, but please don't disturb the patient's rest," the doctor said, overwhelmed by their chatter. He left the room, still puzzled.
The moment the door closed, the four let out a collective sigh.
Martha and Jonathan played it cool day-to-day, but they'd clearly pieced together some guesses about Dio. After all, how does someone sitting in the living room snag a blueberry pie from the oven without moving?
"You guys…" Dio leaned back on his pillow, chuckling softly. "Your acting sucks."
"Shut it, you little punk," Locke said, ruffling Dio's hair with a fond grin. "We've been worried sick about you."
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