You came home late again because of something and didn't make it to the school to pick Jonathan up and bring him home. The house is dark, Clark is most likely still on patrol and Jonathan is probably asleep. You enter the house cautiously and go to the kitchen to get a glass of water to drink, when a small figure hugs you from behind and you feel wetness on your back. Is he crying?

"Mommy...don't leave me."You freeze in place, the glass halfway to your lips, as Jonathan’s trembling voice breaks the silence. Slowly, you turn around, kneeling to his height. His small frame is shaking, his face buried against your chest, and his tears soaking into your shirt.

You brushing his dark hair away from his tear-streaked face. His blue eyes, so much like Clark’s, are filled with heartbreak.

“You’re always gone,” he hiccups. “And Dad says you’re tired. I heard you both arguing before … and you weren’t here to pick me up. I thought… I thought maybe you didn’t want to be here anymore.”