(Please keep reading!)
A month passed in the blink of an eye.
Under Locke's attentive care, Dio was finally discharged from the hospital.
The kid had been bouncing around like nothing happened, but Locke wasn't taking any chances, practically pinning him to the hospital bed.
During that time, Clark, Jonathan, and Martha took turns helping Locke look after the stubborn blond teen.
Even Anthony dropped by once, lugging a basket of fresh fruit and his over-the-top greetings: "Oh, my little hero! You scared the daylights outta me!"
Lex Luthor, though, never showed up.
Maybe Lionel was too spooked to let his son near another potential disaster, or maybe LuthorCorp's business kept them tied up.
Locke didn't mind much. After all, LuthorCorp had covered all of Dio's medical bills, set him up in a top-tier VIP room, and even had gourmet meals delivered daily by a private chef.
According to Jonathan, LuthorCorp also stepped in to settle their back-and-forth with the insurance company. The adjuster, citing "high-altitude debris," handed over a hefty compensation check.
That money could've covered a whole season's worth of crop sales for both Jonathan and Locke's farms.
But still—Locke wasn't about to take Lionel's generosity for granted.
If Dio kept eating like a king, his taste buds would get so spoiled that Locke wouldn't be able to keep up.
So, today was the day.
The sun was shining, the breeze just right.
Dio stood at the hospital entrance, squinting up at the Kansas sky he hadn't seen in a while.
In a short-sleeve shirt, his golden hair gleamed in the sunlight, the scar on his collarbone now just a faint line.
Locke clapped his shoulder. "Let's go, you little punk. Time to head home."
Dio rolled his eyes but didn't snap back like usual, just giving a quiet "Mm."
In the distance, Jonathan's old pickup rumbled up, and Clark poked his head out the window, waving excitedly. "Dio! Mom brought your favorite blueberry pie!"
Dio rolled his eyes again, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
---
The sunset cast a warm glow over the Kent farmhouse as the pickup bounced along the gravel drive.
Martha and Jonathan exchanged a knowing look, and as Dio stepped out, they each grabbed one of Clark's arms, holding him back.
"Come on, Clark," Martha said gently but firmly, tugging her son. "Let's head home."
"Huh? But I wanted to—"
Clark looked longingly at Dio's retreating figure.
"Easy, Clark," Jonathan said, slinging an arm around the boy's shoulders. "Your Uncle Locke and Dio need some alone time."
The pickup roared to life again, carrying the three back to their own farm nearby.
Dio raised an eyebrow. "They sure know when to clear out."
"You little punk," Locke chuckled, shoving the front door open. "Go take a shower and change. I'll get dinner ready."
"Got it, Dad," Dio said, licking his lips with anticipation.
When he emerged from the bathroom, toweling his damp blond hair, the mouthwatering aroma of food filled the living room.
The table was loaded with Dio's favorites: slow-roasted beef ribs dripping with black pepper sauce, a pile of golden crispy onion rings, and a steaming bowl of creamy corn chowder.
"Whoa," Dio whistled. "Dad, you didn't blow through all that compensation money, did you?"
"Hardly," Locke snorted. That ten grand could cover way more than this spread. "Quit yapping and sit down to eat."
Candlelight flickered on the table, adding a cozy glow to their long-overdue father-son time.
Dio sliced into his ribs, then blurted out, "So… the medical bills…"
Clearly, he was still hung up on whether the compensation money was gone.
"LuthorCorp took care of it," Locke said, sipping his apple juice. "Though that Lex kid you saved hasn't shown his face since."
Dio's fork scraped lightly against his plate. "Who cares about that twerp?"
Outside, night settled over Smallville's fields.
Locke watched his son's quiet profile in the candlelight, realizing the troublemaking little punk seemed to have grown up a bit.
"Dio," Locke said, setting down his utensils. "About that day in the cornfield…"
"Dad," Dio cut in, his red eyes glinting strangely in the light. "I figured something out."
"What's that?"
"The World," Dio said, barely containing his excitement. "It can stop time!"
"..."
"How long do you think it lasts?"
"Like, one to three seconds? Felt pretty long to me."
"Is that so?" Locke couldn't hide his grin.
The kid still wasn't great at judging time—his actual time-stop was just 0.1 seconds.
"Dio," Locke said, setting his glass down and resting his chin on his clasped hands.
"Hm?" Dio kept cutting his ribs, not looking up.
"Listen," Locke said softly. "You saved that stranger, putting yourself in danger to protect someone weaker. That's something special."
Dio's red eyes flickered, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"But," Locke's tone shifted, "I need to tell you what real courage is."
"Huh?" Dio's smile froze. "What's that supposed to mean, old man? Didn't it all work out? We're all alive, aren't we?"
"But, Dio…"
Locke stepped over, placing a heavy hand on his son's shoulder, his voice catching. "As your dad, I don't want you to have that kind of courage."
"I'm sorry I taught you these hard lessons when you're still so young."
"Let's talk about miracles," he continued. "Miracles only happen when there's a real chance and you've got the strength to back it up. I don't want you betting on pipe dreams when you're backed into a corner."
"It's like a kid who never studies or does homework. Even if he musters the courage to take a test, he's just gonna fail."
The wind outside went still.
Dio stared at his warped reflection in the apple juice, the scar and star-shaped birthmark on his collarbone faintly burning.
He thought back to the deadly red streak in the cornfield, Lex's terrified scream, and the reckless, burning resolve that had surged through him.
Dio was quiet for a long time.
Finally, he looked up, his red eyes shimmering with complex emotions. "So you're saying I should've left that guy to die?"
"No," Locke shook his head gently. "I'm saying next time, make sure you and the people around you are safe first, then find the smartest way to help. That's the kind of courage that lets me sleep at night knowing you're growing up right."
"Ugh, so annoying," Dio muttered, turning away, his blond hair hiding his face. "Fine, next time I'll recite your whole lecture before I save anyone."
Locke chuckled, ruffling Dio's soft hair. "That's my boy. Now…"
He turned to grab a steaming dish from the oven. "Try this—my new spicy apple pie."
"Spicy?!" Dio's face twisted in disgust, vivid in the candlelight. "Old man, have your taste buds finally given up?"
"You little punk…"
"Alright, just for tonight," Locke said, raising his glass. "To your recovery."
Dio grinned, flashing his sharp canines. "To surviving by the skin of my teeth?"
"To family being together," Locke corrected.
Their laughter echoed into the farm's night sky.
Far off, a meteor streaked across the horizon, this time a pure gold, like Dio's hair shining in the sun.
---
Summer break was nearing its end.
Locke, Clark, and Dio returned from the fields, heavy wheat stalks signaling a bountiful harvest season ahead.
Yup, even Dio had been roped into the labor crew, sweating it out in the fields every day.
With a Stand as useful as his, it'd be a crime not to use it for harvesting oats.
Clark, too, with his superhuman strength, was too good not to put to work.
Clark didn't mind, though—it gave him an excuse to stick to Dio like glue, a clingy piece of gum that wouldn't come off.
Dio's take?
"That guy's practically my second Stand. Once he sticks, you can't shake him, and he'll even chase you down with those long legs!"
Watching the two teens roughhousing in a pile of wheat, Locke sighed. "Alright, you two, knock it off."
"Let's head inside—"
"Hm?"
The door was ajar.
Locke's eyes sharpened, and he raised a hand to stop the boys.
Platinum Star flickered faintly behind him.
"Stay behind me."
Dio and Clark exchanged a glance, silently falling into step.
Locke crept forward, easing the door open.
The first thing to hit him was the rich aroma of sizzling meat.
He knew that smell all too well—Dio's prized, high-end ribeye, saved for special occasions.
Did this kid get so hungry he couldn't wait to cook himself a steak?
"Haha… hahaha!"
A boisterous laugh rang out from the living room.
Way too bold!
That's it—enough's enough!
Bang!
Locke flung the door wide open.
There, sprawled on the couch, was a man with three golden donuts stacked on his head, chowing down on a steak and laughing at the TV.
Hearing the noise, the guy turned, not a hint of embarrassment, and flashed a dazzling grin.
"Yo! Long time no see, huh—"
"Grandpa Locke!"
"Oh? Cafeteria hot sauce's here too, haha, and you're—"
"Ciao~"
---