It was quiet at the dinner table.

Jonathan had allowed his wife to take home the toddler they'd found in the field, and he sat with them while they ate—or rather, didn't eat. So far, the child wasn't responding to any of Martha's attempts to get him to eat anything at the table. Martha was cutting up his food instead of eating hers, and Jonathan was watching them instead of eating his.

He had no idea what he was going to do with this situation. He'd known Martha for long enough to recognize the look on her face. She was in a state of total denial about all of Jonathan's objections. She had made up her mind, and he wasn't going to be able to change it.

But he had to. He had to find a way. They could not raise an alien.

Martha sighed as her latest attempts to get the toddler to eat failed. "I guess he's not hungry."

Jonathan swallowed and said, carefully, "He might not eat Earth food."

"Or he might just be a picky eater." Martha stood from the table and went over to a jar on the counter, taking out a chocolate chip cookie. "Don't get used to this," she told the kid. "This is just because it's your first night."

The little boy looked over the cookie she handed over, then began munching happily.

"There, see?" She smiled at Jonathan. "We can start teaching him better eating habits starting tomorrow."

Jonathan breathed in to object, but Martha went on before he could get a word in.

"How old do you think he is?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know."

"If you had to guess?"

Jonathan shook his head. "He's not human. For all we know, his . . . species could age at a different rate. He could be a newborn, or he could be a thousand years old."

"I think he looks about three." Her brow furrowed. "He isn't talking. Most three-year-olds talk. Maybe we say he's two, give him a little time to catch up."

He just nodded, putting his fork down. It was a rare thing for him to lose his appetite, but he really wasn't going to be able to eat.

"What should we name him?"

He had to stop her there. Once she named the kid, she was never going to let him go. "Don't name him. We can't keep him."

"Well, what do you suggest we do with him?"

Jonathan really didn't have anything to say to that. He would have suggested bringing the boy to the police station, but he knew Ethan wouldn't know what to do, either. There just wasn't a standard procedure for what to do with an alien who looked exactly like an adorable three-year-old human boy.

Jonathan needed some air.

"I'll be back in a few, I need to check on a few things. Make sure nothing was damaged in the meteor storm."

Martha nodded, but he could tell she wasn't really listening. She only had eyes for the child.

Jonathan grabbed a flashlight, stepped out of the house, and started making the rounds on the property, but found he wasn't really paying attention to anything he was looking at. As fixated as his wife's eyes had been on the child, his mind was far more fixated on the situation.

The police wouldn't know what to do if Jonathan told them about the spaceship. If he didn't mention the spaceship, and the kid continued to act normally, they wouldn't know the difference between him and any other lost child—they'd try to find his parents, and when that failed, they'd look for a foster or adoptive home. He and Martha had even been talking about the possibility of adoption, since they didn't seem to be able to have kids biologically. If they hadn't been the ones to find the kid in the field, and someone else had brought him to the station, Jonathan and Martha might have even been contenders to adopt this child.

And they'd have been raising an alien. God only knew where that child was from, or what he could do.

It couldn't happen. Somehow, he had to make his wife understand. Once the alien fell asleep—if he could even sleep—Jonathan would have a long talk with Martha, for as long as it took to make her see reason. He braced himself for a rough evening.

When Jonathan came back into the house, Martha had the little guy sitting on the floor surrounded by a pile of Jonathan's old toys from his own childhood. "Thank goodness your mother was a pack rat."

"Sweetheart . . . he's not ours to keep."

"I just keep feeling there's a reason he's here. He's exactly what I wished for in the flower shop."

"Hey." Jonathan sat down on the steps behind her. "Since when did Martha Kent believe in magic wands?"

Her hand caressed the child's face. "Since the moment I laid eyes on this little boy."

There was a knock at the door. Jonathan jumped to his feet. The last thing he needed was for someone to see the kid and start asking questions. "Get him upstairs. Hurry, go on."

He glanced back to make sure Martha had carried the child away

"Uh, just a—just a second." He hurried to the front door to find the Deputy standing on his porch.

"Evening Jonathan," Ethan said.

"Ethan." Jonathan's heart pounded.

"I saw what was left of your truck out on Route 17. I wanted to stop by and make sure you're alright."

"Oh yeah, we're, uh, a little banged up, but we're fine." Jonathan didn't want to leave Martha alone with the alien for too long. "Look, I—I'm sure there are folks who need your attention a lot more than—"

A scampering sound behind him. The toddler ran into the room, closely followed by Martha. Jonathan's mind raced—how was he going to explain this?

"Who's the little fella?" Ethan stepped into the house, looking down at the child.

"He got away from me," Martha said. "He's a strong little guy."

Jonathan tried to think of a lie quickly. "That's, um . . ."

"Clark. I thought my family name would make a good first name."

It was over. They were going to adopt an alien. Jonathan kept his face straight, but it took effort.

Martha kept her arms around the kid. "Deputy, I would like you to be the first one in Smallville to meet our son."

Ethan's eyes widened a little. Jonathan's heart sank further. No, there was no getting out of this.

Martha went over to stand beside him. "Adopted, of course," she added. "Uh, we just brought him back from Metropolis this morning."

A wide smile broke out on Ethan's face. "Well, I didn't know you folks were planning to adopt."

Jonathan cleared his throat. "Oh, Ethan, you know us. We like to keep to ourselves, but it's been in the works for quite awhile."

Ethan clapped his shoulder. "Well, congratulations. It's nice to see something good happen in the middle of all this tragedy."

Jonathan kept his eyes on Martha, watching as she held out her arms to the child, and he threw himself into her embrace.

Ethan turned to Jonathan. "Well, I won't keep you folks any longer."

"Thanks for checking in."

Jonathan walked Ethan to the door, then closed it behind him. He returned to Martha, who had carried the child to the couch. He was now resting in her arms, eyes at half mast.

There was an apology in her eyes, and Jonathan found he couldn't be upset with her. Yes, she'd already made up her mind, but she clearly didn't mean to walk all over him, disrespect him, or force him to do something he didn't want to do. They'd both been caught off guard.

"Okay," Jonathan said, and he came over to sit next to Martha on the couch. He ran his hand through the little boy's hair, and the child's bright blue eyes opened for a moment before fluttering closed. "We're doing this."