"I'm worried about Whitney," said Clark as he played pool with Lex.

"Really?" Lex said as he hit a ball into a corner pocket.

"Mrs. Fordman said that ever since he came back, he refuses to go out. All he does is stay at home and watch TV. He doesn't want to do anything. He hasn't been going to his therapy sessions."

"Not surprising. It's traumatic losing a part of one's self. Even though hair isn't essential, it affected me a great deal. Just imagine getting hit by several pieces of shrapnel and losing part of a limb. His whole self-image was totally based on physical prowess. He doesn't have that anymore." Lex then stood up from the pool table. "Why don't you visit him? He probably needs the company. If he acts pissy, well, just yell back at him."

"That's a good idea, Lex."

Lex gave him a half-smile with a little twist. "Nothing like a good fight to get the blood going."

"Whitney, there's someone here to see you," said Mrs. Fordman.

"I don't want to talk to anybody," said Whitney. He was sitting at the kitchen table with his head down in his arms.

"Please, Whitney, it's Clark."

"Clark?" Whitney lifted his head to see the visitor coming through the door.

"Hi, Whitney." Clark sat down on a chair next to him.

"What do you want?"

"I was wondering if you'd like some company."

"I'm not going to be good company right now."

"I was worried . . ."

"Did Lana put you up to this?"

Clark blinked then shook his head. "No, I came because I wanted to. How are you and La . . ."

"She visited once after I came back. She was really freaked out though she tried to hide it. I haven't seen her since."

"I'm so sorry."

"Well, why stick with a loser, right?"

"Whitney, don't say that."

"What do you know? I did OK in school, but I'm no genius. I joined the Marines so I could go to school. I used to be an athlete . . .Now I'm not sure if I can do manual labor. I don't know what I'm going to do."

Clark put his arm around him. "It's going to be OK."

Whitney shrugged his arm off. "I don't want your pity!"

"You idiot, don't act like my dad. It's OK to accept help when you need it."

"Why are you helping me? Don't you like Lana?"

"What I feel for her and what I feel for you are two different things. I'm here right now to help you. As for Lana, it can wait."

Whitney turned and looked at him for a moment. He's so fucking sincere and after all the bullshit I put him through, he thought. Then he started to sob. Tears fell down his face and his whole body began to shake. "Oh, man, you must think I'm a real pussy."

"No, I don't. I don't know how I'd react if something like that happened to me. I'd probably in even worse shape. Let me see it."

"What?"

"Let me see your leg."

Whitney sighed, wiped his tears then pulled up the right leg of his sweat pants. Underneath was a prosthetic that while functional was quite obviously artificial. "Well?"

"It's a bit of a shock but I'll get used to it. After a while, nobody will really notice. Especially if you wear pants over it."

"Thing is that sometimes, I get this weird pain like I still have my foot. The doctor said that because my leg was blown off instead of surgically removed, I'll keep getting phantom pain. You know, none of my football buddies have visited me. I guess it's the way I reacted to my dad's illness. I just didn't want to see how frightening it could be. I'm not happy but I can't say I blame them."

"Whitney . . ."

"Could we talk some other time? I'm actually pretty tired. First time I cried about this . . . Just . . ."

"Yeah, sure."

Once Clark walked out of the house, Ms. Fordman closed the door behind her and said, "Thanks for stopping by. He may not say it but he really appreciated your coming. It's been a hard time for the both of us. You think you know people but then . . . Well, I guess it takes hard times to figure out who's real and who's not. Come again if you can."

"I'll be sure to."

Three weeks later

"You look more cheerful than you did last time," said the psychiatrist as she sat in the chair across from her patient. "I'm glad you showed up for this week's appointment."

"Well, it's really different when you've got someone in your corner, rooting you on," said Whitney.

"Is it your girlfriend or shall I say ex-girlfriend?'

"No, actually, it's a guy I know from school. He's been the greatest."

"Is he the one you . . ."

"Yeah, he's that guy. What do you think I should do?"

"It's really up to you. Is there any possibility he could feel the same for you?"

"It's hard to say . . ."

"You might want to wait. There's a lot of other things you need to work on first."

"That's true."

The psychiatrist smiled. "I've got a support group you might want to join . . ."

"Hey, Lana," said Clark as he walked into the Talon.

"Oh, hi, Clark," Lana said.

"I was wondering if you could go see Whitney."

"Actually, I think that it would be a bad idea."

"Why?"

"Because he might think I'm trying to get back together with him."

"You don't have to go out on a date or anything. You know, just drop by and see how he is."

"I'll think about it." Her tone, however, was less than enthused.

"Oh, all right," said Clark, frowning. He then turned away and walked off to sit by himself. A little support would have been nice, he thought. He felt disquieted at how casually she brushed off someone she had once cared for.

Chloe walked in with Pete, then saw Clark. "Oh, I haven't seen you here in these parts in years."

"Hi, Chloe. Hi, Pete. I've been talking to Whitney."

"How is he?"

"He's fine, actually. Why don't you go see for yourself?'

Pete said, "Well, we did swing by there a couple times last week, but Ms. Fordman said he was out walking around with you. I never thought you two would be buddies."

"He's not so bad. Sorry, I guess I haven't been around lately."

"No, really?" said Chloe.

"Chloe!"

"I'm just playing. Though I think that a certain millionaire misses a certain pool playing farm boy."

Clark groaned. "I've been ignoring him, too. I haven't seen him in a week. He was the one who suggested I visit Whitney in the first place."

"Well, before you rush over there, have some coffee with us, first," said Pete.

"Sure," Clark said, smiling.

Clark and Whitney were walking across an empty field under an gray sky. In the distance were trees, their leaves red and yellow. "It's going to start snowing in a couple months," Whitney said.

"Will you have problems getting around?"

"Well, I can drive if it's a long distance. As for walking, I'm doing pretty good."

"Can I tell you something funny?"

"Sure."

"I used to be jealous of you, but not because of Lana. It was because of my dad."

"Your dad?"

Clark stopped walking then turned to look at Whitney. "Look at me, Whitney. I couldn't look more different from him unless I looked like Pete. I'm not a jock and there's a lot of things that we don't have in common. I think that when he looks at you, he sees a lot of himself. I think that if he could have, he would've wished for someone like you, instead."

"But you still saved and helped me despite all that."

"Because I ended up liking you. I mean I wasn't happy with what you did in the beginning, but you didn't stay that way. You could've just gone along with those thugs but you decided to help Lex instead. You joined the Marines. You remind me a bit of my dad. You're both good guys at heart even if I don't always agree with everything you've ever done or said."

"Thanks, Clark."

They continued walking. "Is there anybody you're with right now? Lana or Chloe?"

"No."

"Ok, how about Lex?"

Clark looked surprised. "How . . ."

"I had my suspicions before I went off to basic training, Clark. I just didn't say anything. I didn't tell anybody then and I'm not going to tell anybody now. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

Clark looked away. "Things between me and Lex have gotten really complicated. We're still really good friends, but we've decided not to take it any further. We're just too different to make it work out like that."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. It's just how things are."

"Yeah, I know how you feel. I try not to think about Lana much. After all, it's not like she thinks about me anymore," Whitney said. "Hey, how about we go into town? I heard there's a new taco place. Want one?"

Clark smiled at him. "Sounds good to me. You aren't too tired?"

"We'll take it slow. And I've got the truck."

Clark was sitting in his loft when he heard someone walk in. "Hey, Clark?"

"Whitney?"

"Yeah, it's me. I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done." Whitney was bundled up in a hooded coat, a scarf, and wearing mittens. God, it's cold, he thought. How can he stand being here with just jeans and flannel?

"You really don't have to thank me."

"Are you kidding me?"

"You did all the work."

"Yeah, but you stuck by me when you didn't have to." Come on, thought Whitney, you've gone to a foreign country, faced death, got your leg blown off and you're scared of telling him one simple thing?

"Why don't you sit down?"

"Yeah, sure." He sat down next to Clark.

"It's good to see you work at the store even though I know it's not what you wanted. I thought you were going to work today."

"Well, I got today off because it's been slow. My mom said she'd mind the store until closing. Actually, my mom says that she could handle the store if that's what it took for me to go to college. I'm thinking of going to night school then transfer to Metropolis University. I feel bad that she's handling all this work but she said she didn't want to see me unhappy for the rest of my life."

"I'm glad you haven't given up."

"I've been through worse. I'll figure out a way. Actually, I came over here to tell you something."

"What?"

"This is going to sound really strange but it's the honest-to-God truth."

"Go on."

"While I was in Indonesia, I'd get homesick from time to time. I'd think of my mom, school, Lana, my friends and you. After I got my leg blown off, I crawled out of the water and I used my belt to stop myself from bleeding to death. It's amazing what one does while in shock. It was like I was outside my body, telling myself to do it. This amazing calm hits you and keeps you from totally losing it. While I was lying on my side, this whole stream of images began rushing before my eyes. I guess that's what they mean when you're seeing your life flash before your eyes right before you bite it. The weird thing is that it was your smiling face I saw the most.And at that very moment when I thought I was going to die, I really wanted to see you again, just one more time."

"I was the one you wanted to see?"

"Yeah. You'd think it'd be Lana but it was you I saw. I guess I'd been hiding it from myself."

"Is this . . ."

"I guess you could, um, call it a declaration."

"Oh, wow, Whitney."

"You're not freaked out."

"No . . . I'm not. I'm just really surprised."

"Then maybe you won't be freaked out at this." Whitney leaned towards Clark, closed his eyes and kissed him. Fuck, he thought as a spool of warmth began to unwind inside of him. He's good. Because Clark wasn't just passively accepting this kiss, he was sucking, nibbling and licking back. He wrapped his arms around Clark. "Ah, man, you're good, Clark." He briefly considered taking off his coat so he could do more but it was just too cold. That fact that he could see his breath was a good sign of that. "We've got to go somewhere warmer," he whispered.

"Well, the heater in your truck works, right?" He had a wicked little smile.

Whitney narrowed his eyes. "You are so not as innocent as people think you are." Then he laughed out loud.

The End

Author Notes: I'm assuming that Whitney had been operated on and given some physical therapy sessions before being sent home. I make no claims to being either an amputee, a doctor or any type of health professional.