Feedback: celli@fanfic101.com
Category: Futurefic; RWR (Rift? What Rift?)
Rating: G. No, really.
Summary: Clark needs a break.
Archiving: Ask and I'll probably say yes.
Disclaimer: Smallville and its residents belong to Millar
Gough Ink, Warner Brothers, DC Comics, and other assorted
people with lawyers. Bummer.
Thanks to Caro and Shelley for the betas. Written for
Slodwick's A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Challenge.

***

Angel's Guardian
by Celli Lane

***

"Wake up."

"What?" Clark mumbled. "Go away. No more cows."

"You live on a farm. You *own* cows."

"My father owns cows."

"And probably names them all personally. My point is, you
don't need to be mocking cows."

Clark kept his eyes squeezed shut. "I could mock the corn
instead. You know, in Kansas, we eat corn. We don't put
it on buildings."

Lex sighed. "Okay, Mitchell was a mistake."

"The Corn *Palace*? Pfah. Waste of good corn. And why
did we keep driving for four hours after that? You saw the
ethanol factory. You're buying the ethanol factory. Go
you."

"If you'd open your eyes, you might figure it out." There
was a hint of impatience in Lex's tone. Clark opened his
eyes.

And sat up straight. "Whoa."

"That's what I thought."

The brown plains and fenced pastures of central South
Dakota had disappeared while he slept. Instead, forested
hills rose up around him, dappled in every imaginable shade
of green. They were in a valley that held a gravel road, a
small farmhouse, and a couple of barns. Behind it all, he
could just see a glimmer of sun on water that might be
either a river or a lake. The air smelled like pine trees
and spring and--

He looked at Lex. "Cows?"

"Well, it is a working ranch," Lex said. Not defensively.
At all.

Clark grinned. "We're still in South Dakota, right? Or
was there an I-90 exit for the Twilight Zone?"

"Welcome to the Black Hills."

"Lex..." He looked around again. "I've never seen anything
like it."

Lex smiled.

***

"I thought about buying the ranch in Montana back," Lex
said. They were sitting on the dock behind the barn,
watching the ripples on the lake. Dinner had been earlier:
steaks, garden-grown salad, and apple pie almost as good as
Martha Kent's. Then they'd been shooed away from the
dishes with homemade hot chocolate and orders not to come
back until it had all been enjoyed. "But I didn't want to
displace the family Dad sold it to. So I found this
instead."

"Have you been up here a lot?"

"No, just to take a look around when I bought it. I'm
hoping that with the new plant, I'll be up here more." Lex
sipped his hot chocolate. "Mmm. I hear it's spectacular
in the fall."

Clark bounced his feet a bit, kicking up a small spray of
ice-cold water. "I'm glad you brought me."

"Not the usual spring break, I suppose."

"That's okay. I didn't have anything planned anyway."

"I thought you were going to stay in Metropolis and help
little old ladies cross the street."

"Ha."

"It's going to look great on your resume. 'Extracurricular
activities: College newspaper, intramural volleyball,
fighting crime.' Sure to wow potential employers."

"Hey!"

Lex raised an eyebrow.

Clark lifted his chin. "I don't play volleyball."

"Right. Sorry. What was I thinking?" Lex's grin turned
sardonic. "Where would you find the time between school
and saving people?"

"Lex."

"I'm just saying, you need to relax. I pay an obscene
amount of money in taxes that do things like fund the
salary of the Metropolis police force. They're going to
start feeling left out if you don't let them have some
fun."

"Number one, you're not 'just saying.' You're never 'just
saying.' Number two, you and my dad really need to get off
this 'can't save the world' kick."

"It figures," Lex said into his hot chocolate. "The one
time Jonathan and I agree on something, and you're too
stubborn to pay attention."

"Number three, you never take a break. This is a working
vacation for you. Pot? Kettle? Hello."

Lex made a muffled, irritated noise and glared at the
water. Beside him, Clark made a similar sound.

"So that's why you brought me with you on this trip?" he
said finally, his voice tight. "Because you thought it
would be good for me?"

"It's a road trip, not Brussels sprouts. I wanted you to
see this place. And yes, I thought you needed to get away.
When's the last time you had a full night's sleep?" Clark
shrugged. "Or ate a meal with anyone, without making a
lame excuse and rushing off? Chloe asked me if you were
bulimic the other day."

"What?"

"She says you haven't finished a meal with her since you
started college."

"Oh, for pete's sake. What did you tell her?"

"I said no, you weren't bulimic, just deranged."

"Oh, thank you."

"Any time."

There was a long, resentful silence, and then Clark flopped
back onto the dock. "So what you're saying is, I've been a
bad friend."

"No." Lex turned to face him. "Clark, no. I'm saying
that you're spreading yourself too thin. *I* wouldn't be
much of a friend if I didn't tell you to--to--"

"Get a grip?"

"Something like that." Clark smiled, and Lex smiled back.
"If you want to be 'Metropolis's Guardian Angel' that's
fine--"

Clark rolled his eyes. "I hate the *Inquisitor.*"

"*But* even a guardian angel needs someone to look out for
him on occasion."

"Does that make you the angel's guardian?"

"Clark."

"All right. What do you have in mind?"

"A real vacation. Let's kick around here for a few days.
Sleep too much, eat too much, pretend to fish, play
tourist."

"Oh, God. More corn?"

"No, the people on this end of the state say it with
stone." At Clark's blank look, Lex said, "Mt. Rushmore."

"Ohhhh." Clark narrowed his eyes. "And a vacation for
you, too, right? No business?"

"I'll make you a deal. You don't save anyone unless it's
life or death, and I won't take a business call unless it's
life or bankruptcy."

Clark stuck out his hand. "Deal. And Lex?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you," Clark said, just before he pushed him into the
lake, hot chocolate and all.

"...going to KILL you!" Lex was screeching when his head
broke the surface. Clark laughed like a loon and jumped in
after him.