Title: Remembrance
Author: Kristal aka Catcrazychicka
Rating: PG
Summary: Whitney thinks about life. Set between "Crush" and "Obscura"
Disclaimer: It doesn't belong to me, everything belongs to the WB, well except for EJ now, he is gone from Smallville *sniffle* but he isn't gone from Smallville fic!
Feedback: its always nice...

“Remembrance”

As the sun set beyond the horizon, thoughts of the past several months returned to him. Thoughts about his recent brush with meteor freaks, his father's illness, his lost scholarship, and, most recently, his father's death plagued his mind. It had been a long year even before all of that.

Clark had been going after Lana for as long as he could remember. He had never been a threat to their relationship though. He was so shy and always kept to himself. The only person he would even talk to was Pete, until Chloe came along. But, this year had been different. Clark and Lana had become close, too close for Whitney's comfort. They seemed to have this bond that Whitney had never shared with Lana.

That entire scarecrow debacle had been stupid, he thought. I've never even apologized for it. Clark has been so nice to me in spite of that. He saved my life twice and helped me out during a rough time in my life. He even had Lana and me work out our problems.

“Whitney! Honey, come help me with dinner.” His mother's voice jerked him from his thoughts.

“Coming mom!”

Whitney sat up from his childhood swing set. It creaked with age and rust. His dad had planned on taking it down a few years ago, but he never had enough time or energy to do it. Now it served as a reminder of his father's love.

When Whitney was five years old, he loved to go to the park and just swing. To feel the wind in his hair, pretend to be soaring above the clouds, and to jump and feel like he was defying gravity; he could swing for hours. One problem with his favorite activity was that the only swing set was at the park across town.

His father noticed how much he loved to swing, and brought home a swing set to assemble for his son. For the better part of a week, he would come home from work and try to assemble it in the backyard. Whitney would often be lulled to sleep by the sound of his father working on the swing set and humming a little tune.

One night the noise stopped. Whitney's eyes filled with joy at the realization of what that must have meant. He stepped outside into the evening twilight, and saw the greatest thing ever in his five-year-old eye. A brand new swing set complete with a two-person swing. It shined in the way only a new toy could. That night, Whitney just sat and swung for hours. His father joined him after a while and they just laughed and swung until well past darkness.

“Even though you're gone dad, I'll always remember you.” He whispered as the last beams of sunlight were swallowed by darkness.

As he walked towards the house, his thoughts once again returned to his life, and what he was going to do to make his father proud. ‘ I never wanted to be a remember-him, but now more so than ever. I want my father's name to mean something to this town. I want to make him proud of how my life turns out.' he thought solemnly.

As he entered the kitchen, his mother could tell he wasn't feeling up for a family dinner. His expression revealed that all too well.

“Honey, are you not up for dinner right now? I'd understand if you just want to go up to your room and rest.” Concern was evident in her tone, and her love shone through her expression.

“Thanks for understanding, I'm just going to go up to bed.”

As he walked up the stairs he took extra notice of the pictures lining the wall. A few of the pictures were of him playing on his swing set; those brought a small reminiscent smile to his face. Farther up the stairs, the pictures were more recent: one of him at a football game making the winning touch down, one of him and Lana at a family Christmas party, and a candid picture of him with his mom trying to cook. Keyword there: trying.

He reached the top of the stairs with a sigh. His dad hadn't been in any of the pictures; he had always been behind the camera. Whitney regretted that now. He didn't want to forget his father, but without at least one candid picture of him, how was he going to remember his personality? He was a loving husband and father, it said so on his gravestone, but he was so much more than that. He was a successful businessman and a kind employer, but that was just the first layer.

Walking towards his room, he passed his dad's trophy room. The door was slightly open and he just had to go inside. Two of the walls were lined with shelves that contained trophy after trophy. The other walls hung medals, pictures, and ribbons. Whitney had never liked this room, but now he found it quite appealing. To see his father's accomplishments filled him with a sense of pride.

He slowly walked around the room, soaking it all in. His dad had his high school jackets in here, along with pictures of him claiming victory at various sports tournaments. The design on the jacket hadn't changed since his dad's years there. Football, track, and basketball; his dad had ruled Smallville high back in his day. As he walked past a picture of his dad crossing the finish line in a track race, his foot hit something.

“What the…?”

An old box was lying on the floor against the wall. It looked like it hadn't been touched in years. A thin layer of dust coated the box. As Whitney's eyes filled with curiosity, his hand automatically wiped the dust away from the top. His hand gingerly opened the box, revealing its contents.

An Army uniform, ID tags, and another, smaller box lay in the box. Whitney reached in and pulled out the uniform. “Fordman” was prominently displayed above the left side pocket. Next, out came the ID tags. Whitney placed them around his neck, and just relished in the feeling. He felt like he was bonding with his dad on some level, and he wanted to keep that bond for as long as possible. Lastly, he took out the smaller box. With great care he opened it. Inside, lay three medals.

His hand gently caressed one. He grasped it in his hand to feel his father's closeness to him, trying to regain the bond he felt earlier with the ID tags. When he relaxed his grip, there was a heart-shaped indentation on his palm. He stared it, just thinking. His eyes then turned towards the other two medals.

He enjoyed the feeling of closeness to his father for what felt like mere minutes, but was really hours. He was lost deep in thought when his mother's voice broke through his thoughts.

“Whitney? What are you doing in here, honey?”

“Just thinking mom, just thinking.”

“Ok, honey. Good night, don't stay up too late.” She wanted to say more, it was obvious by the way she was looking at him. But she didn't, she just turned around and closed the door quietly.

Whitney looked out the window where the moon was high and full. Time had passed so quickly for him in this room, he didn't want to leave. He didn't want to leave a room that was so much his father's. He wanted to stay and feel close, pretend that maybe, just maybe his dad wasn't gone. But, as time passed, Whitney knew he had to leave. He had to continue living life without his father.

As he stood up to leave, he grabbed the small box containing the medals. With one last look around the room, he shut the door. Walking towards his room, medal box in hand, he said, “I'll make you proud dad, I just need to find out how.” And, with a look at the medal box, he had his answer.

~The End~