[She's standing in a grassy spot in a place she's never been. Other than the fact that she was just standing in the kitchen, this lets her know this isn't a memory of hers. The only other person in the house is Clark, and she looks for him before she really focuses on what's happening around her. She doesn't know how bad it might get. What might happen. Who might be there. It isn't until she hears the shriek of the geese that she looks over to see a small boy, red towel tied around him and a dog yapping around his heels that she takes in the actuality of where she is. Whose memory she's in.
She watches, because what else can she do? She watches him play with the geese, with the dog, and she watches a younger version of the woman she'd gotten Alan to paint a portrait of gather up the young boy, smothering him in kisses.]
Oh, thank god.
[It's what she says out loud, because she'd been so terrified this would be another nightmare. Another thing she shouldn't see. But it was... sweet. Gentle. God, everything that made Clark what he was. Love and that freedom of being able to run around and just be. She stood there watching a younger Martha smile and coddle a younger Clark, and she ignored the single tear slipping over her cheek.]
Forgetting: Four
She watches, because what else can she do? She watches him play with the geese, with the dog, and she watches a younger version of the woman she'd gotten Alan to paint a portrait of gather up the young boy, smothering him in kisses.]
Oh, thank god.
[It's what she says out loud, because she'd been so terrified this would be another nightmare. Another thing she shouldn't see. But it was... sweet. Gentle. God, everything that made Clark what he was. Love and that freedom of being able to run around and just be. She stood there watching a younger Martha smile and coddle a younger Clark, and she ignored the single tear slipping over her cheek.]