Title: Future

Part: 1/1

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Everything belongs to other people, damn it.

Rating: PG-13

Pairing(s): Chloe/Clark, Lois/Clark mentions of Clark/Lana and Lana/Lex

Spoilers: Stuff from S4 but not entirely.

Author's Note: This is my first Smallville fic. Not the best and I started it way back when but I thought it was time to finish it. I would love to know what you people think of it.

If you need a friend
I'm the one to fly to
If you need to be loved,
Here I am, read my mind.
-- "Can You Read My Mind" by Maureen McGovern

His picture is splashed on the front page of The Daily Planet, once again, boasting about his latest heroic deed. With a bemused smile, he flicks his eyes over the article, not needing to read it since he has written it – as modestly as he could; after all, Perry had wanted all the details.

When Superman had made his debut, Clark had let Lois take the story, thinking it would be best not to make anyone too suspicious as to how he, a new, lowly reporter had bagged the first ever exclusive on the Man of Steel. Mild-mannered Clark Kent surely didn't move in the same social circles as the invincible, smooth, powerful Superman. But now, since he has slowly established a relationship with, well, himself and everyone knows that the 'two' men are good friends, it is easier to grab the story right from under Lois's nose and see her stew.

That is always a pleasure.

Clark sighs and lets his gaze slide to Lois's article on Lex Luthor and LuthorCorp rather questionable mergers and acquisitions. He still feels that familiar pain in his chest when he thinks of his one-time best friend. It isn't like they're enemies now; Clark can't convince himself of that just yet, but he has made it clear that he disapproves of Lex's methods, in business and in other areas. The darkness Lex often feared when they were younger seems to be creeping into him, with him being carelessly, almost consciously, blind to it.

Lionel Luthor still calls all the shots, even from beyond the grave and Clark hates that there is nothing he can do to make Lex see that.

"You can't save everybody, Clark," Chloe said to him, softly, eyes shining so brightly and sympathetically as she rubbed a hand between his shoulders. "Especially those people who don't want to be saved."

"He's my best friend, Chlo."

"Hey," she teased, smacking him on the back. "I'm your best friend."

Clark smiled goofily at her, took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. "No, you're my girl."

"Smooth Kent," she replied with a chuckle and then leaned forward to kiss him.

"Brooding again, Smallville?" an all-too familiar voice pulls him out of his reverie and he turns to Chloe's cousin and, as the funny hand of fate would have it, his so-called partner-in-crime, leaning against his desk. Her head is cocked to one side, her chestnut curls tumble past her shoulders. "Shouldn't you be gloating right about now?"

"I never gloat, Lois."

She rolls her eyes and taps on the newspaper in his hand. "No, the article does it for you."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "Lois, we talked about this. I was there first. I talked to Superman because I was there and you weren't. You were there that other time: the bank heist he stopped two months ago. Did I annoy you about it?"

She pouts and shakes her head reluctantly. "No, you didn't. You just always seem to be there first."

"Not always."

"Enough times to make me suspicious." Her caramel eyes lock with his and her jaw sets determinedly. He knows that look well enough, has seen it countless times before from Chloe.

It is the look that makes him pretty damn uncomfortable.

"You're being paranoid." Clark folds the newspaper and leans back against his chair. "Really, Lois, I thought we were partners and agreed to be happy and supportive and proud of each other's work." She makes a reluctant sound of agreement. To placate her, he fibs. A little. "If it makes you feel any better, he asked where you were."

She straightens, eyes bright with surprise, but feigns nonchalance. "What did you say?"

He looks away, stifles a smile and answers innocently, "Getting your hair done."

The strangled sound that comes out of her mouth, a cross between a moan and a war cry, has laughter bubbling out of him as she attacks him with the same paper he was reading moments before. Putting his arms up to defend himself, he takes the blows (doesn't even feel them) and grabs her wrists to stop her, still laughing as his eyes meet hers. She glares at him, tossing her head back and sending her hair over her shoulders. "Jerk."

Clark can't help it, knowing that she has a crush on Superman, which means she has a crush on him…well; he is determined to get all the mileage out of this as he can. After all, she has no clue.

"I'm surprised Lois hasn't figured it out yet. It's so obvious." Chloe stretched on the couch, her feet on his lap as he massaged the soles, careful not to give too much pressure. Her feet were so tiny. She was incredibly tiny, he always felt clumsy with his big, fumbling hands on her. He could hurt her and the knowledge scared him more than anything else. "She's more aware of things than she used to be. Funny how much she's changed."

"Funny how much she hasn't," Clark countered, brow arched.

"Aw, you know you like her."

"Tolerate her."

"Be careful, Clark," she said as she moved and straddled his lap, bringing her legs on either side of him and taking his face in her (small, delicate, pretty) hands. "Who knows? Maybe one day she'll be your best friend."

He brushed his lips against hers. "Position already filled."

Something came into her eyes, something sad, haunting and nameless, and then vanished just as quickly as she smiled. "You never know."

He doesn't know that he's staring at her picture now, the picture that rests on his desk right beside the one of his parents, the one that he never moves. He doesn't know he is boring an imaginary hole through it (if he isn't more careful, he'll set it on fire) until Lois's hand rests on his shoulder and snaps him back to the present.

Their eyes lock again, this time there is no amusement, only sadness and…comfort. Clark almost hears that click in his head again, the snap of a connection.

"Clark." She says it quietly and even through the loud humming of blood in his ears, the pain in his chest, he notices the lines around her mouth, the sad smile as her face softens and her eyes become clearer somehow. He feels, if he really looks at her, that he could see past the bravado, the cynicism, the…everything and into the heart and soul of Lois Lane.

He turns away and focuses on another smile, a happier one, a larger, brighter one. One that tightens the vise around his heart.

"The anniversary is soon."

Five days. He could never forget. "I know."

"Will you be going back?" She asks softly, knowing to tread carefully. He nods, unable to form words. "Maybe we can go back together."

"Maybe," he answers, giving Lois a wan smile as he stands up, indicating to her that he is ready to terminate the conversation. "I'll let you know."

He won't, though. He likes being alone with Chloe.

- & -

"Clark," Lex greets him from behind, handing him a glass of champagne as he does. "Have you been here long?"

Clark turns to face him, meets his eyes and wonders if he'll always see Lionel Luthor staring back, if somewhere deep inside Lex, the one who befriended a sixteen year old farm boy, still exists. He accepts the glass though he doesn't plan on drinking it. He'll be flying later and he knows one glass could lead to more, especially tonight.

Superman doesn't drink, after all.

He gives Lex a small smile that is achingly polite. He hates it. "Not too long."

Lex nods and looks away, too. He feels it, the rift, Clark thinks. And he won't do a fucking thing about it. Clark curls his fingers around the stem of the glass, fights the urge to gulp it down in one sip. Clark Kent doesn't drink, either.

"You'll be flying off to Smallville, tonight?"

Very carefully, Clark controls the sharp breath he wants to take. He's gotten better at the façade; he's gotten better at controlling the hand-in-the-cookie-jar look he had perfected as a teenager. Lex makes many throwaway comments and Clark wills himself to believe that he hasn't made the connection.

"Yes," he answers, making an effort to grin slightly. He lies again; it's so ingrained in his system he doesn't even know he is doing it anymore. It doesn't make him feel guilty anymore and he wonders if that's some sort of sign. "Mom worries about the roads. They're not as safe as they used to be."

There's an awkward silence again, both of them looking away from each other. The tension is so thick that Clark wonders how long they can go on ignoring. Pretending, playing, lying and hiding. They've been stuck in this make-believe world for more than a decade. Clark isn't sure that he's fighting for something worth saving anymore. And he wonders who will be the first one to admit it.

He opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by a voice from behind him.

"Clark Kent." Lana Lang glows as she poses with one hand on her hip and her beatific smile belies her admonishing tone. "To think, I came all the way here because I knew you'd be here and you don't have the decency come over and say hello."

"Lana!" he says and smiles genuinely, happy to see her. He leans down and kisses her cheek and then takes a step back to admire her vivid blue dress and her now slightly protruding belly. "Are you sure you should be on your feet and in those heels all night?"

She beams, places a hand on his face. This gesture, a lifetime ago, would have made his heart race and his blood boil. Now, the fire is gone and he cherishes the warmth, the touch of the familiar past. The girl you grow out of…

"Oh, you don't know how good it is to see you." She stops smiling, suddenly, and looks over his shoulder. It still amazes him how that warmth in her eyes, the light in her eyes can just vanish like a wisp of smoke from a blown out candle when her eyes land on Lex. Clark has to remind himself, harshly, that this isn't the girl next door anymore and that though it may have taken her a little longer than everyone else, Lana Lang grew up too. "Hello Lex."

"Lana," he greets, softly, and Clark doesn't miss the bitterness in his tone. Or the way Lex's eyes travel to her stomach and regret, for the briefest of seconds, flits across his composed face. "Didn't think you'd make it."

She shakes her head, her grin is sarcastic and Clark doesn't think it suits her. "Oh somehow, I don't believe that's true."

Lex stares at her, purses his lips and Clark knows he's trying hard not to say anything. "If you two will excuse me, I have to go mingle. I'll catch up with you later, Clark."

When he leaves, Clark turns to her again and eyes her suspiciously. "You okay?"

"Yes," she replies, shakes her head and visibly tries to calm herself down. "I'm sorry. After all these years, Lex Luthor still gets under my skin."

The details of her affair with Lex Luthor have eluded him ever since he uncovered it, what now seems like eons ago, during his last year in high school. It was meant to be kept under the radar, for obvious reasons and Clark had happily pushed it to the back of his mind, not because – and it even surprised him - of jealousy or even disgust but merely because as horrible it sounded, Lana Lang's love life, at the time, meant very, very little to him. He was on the verge of making discoveries about himself, about his destiny; he was taking his first step to become the Man of Steel and everything else seemed…superfluous.

"I walked in on a rather…intimate moment between Lana and Lex," he informed Chloe as they sorted through laundry on the kitchen table at the Kent Farm. He shook his head at the memory, trying to burn the image of his two friends, entwined and naked from his mind's eye forever. "I'm sure that's not how they planned on telling me."

Chloe giggled and tossed him a clean shirt. "Well, they did much more. Separately, Lex and Lana have never been able to handle anything, least of all keeping a lid on things, well. What makes you think they'd be any better together?"

"Lex and Lana," he replied, still at a loss as how to wrap his mind around that one. "I mean, I always had my suspicions about Lex's feelings but Lana…"

Chloe bit her lower lip, her voice hesitant. "Were you jealous?"

Clark shrugged and shook his head. "You know, I stood there, in shock, waiting for the jealousy to come. For anything to come as they picked themselves up and tried to explain. But it never did. Not even later. In fact, by the time I got out of there and got into the truck, I was laughing. I have no idea what that means."

Chloe stuck her tongue in her cheek and then grinned cheekily. "Well, don't look now, Clark Kent, but you're growing up."

"Clark?" Lana calls him, touching his arm. "Clark?"

He gives her a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry. I was thinking of…"

Lana smiles, gently, almost sadly and he looks away, unable to take the pity. Not from her, he can't from her. "Martha wanted me to ask you if you'd come back with me and Jeremy. It would ease her mind a great deal."

Jeremy. Good, safe, dependable Jeremy. After Jason Teague, Lex Luthor and himself, he think Lana needs the fairytale of happily ever after. Even if it is a lie.

Clark smiles and shakes his head. "Thanks Lana, but I'll be fine. My mother worries about me too much."

"Someone has to." Lana rises on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek. When she pulls away and looks at him, her eyes gleam knowingly. "Besides, you'll get there much faster than we will."

- & -

Lois knows he'll be there.

She knows that every year, he's there somehow, before her. Hands stuffed deeply in his pockets, he looms over the gravestone of her cousin, her best friend and just stares.

The look in his eyes, sad and almost lost, makes her ache for him.

When she comes to stand beside him, he glances up at her, acknowledges her presence. The wind rustles and she reaches for his hand. Surprise fills her when he turns his palm (big, smooth, strong and gentle) and twines their fingers together.

She knows its significance, feels it in her bones.

She wants to be mad at him, for various reasons, but mostly for his relationship with Chloe. She remembers how much her cousin loved this man when he was only a boy who didn't appreciate it nor return it. Lois knows how much her cousin loved everything this man was and could be even when he hadn't a clue himself.

She wants to hate him for it. And maybe, at first, she did. But now, she knows what Chloe had. What Chloe gave up her life for – for him.

Because now, Lois loves him more than her heart can handle. She loves him even when the ghost of their best friend hovers between them, trapping them in the past and holding onto his heart, putting that look in his eyes.

That look that pierces her soul.

She never thought feeling this inside her (swirling, draining, life-altering) for Clark Kent would be this complicated.

Chloe, she thinks silently as she blinks back tears. Why can't you just let him go? Let someone else love him, the way you did. I promise I won't let you down.

She remembers the first time she met him, remembers their conversation by her cousin's fake grave years (it feels like lifetimes) ago and she is struck, suddenly, by the thought that it was Chloe who brought Clark Kent into her life. She knew this, of course, somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, but standing here again, now, the weight of the thought hits her: Chloe is their connection. And she always will be.

"I should go."

She wants to ask him to stay, to stay and sit beside her and share the part of himself that he so desperately keeps locked up and thinks no one knows. But she knows better and bites her lower lip to keep from blurting out the request. After a beat, she nods and lets go of his hand. "Okay."

He's staring at the tombstone again, that look in his eye that haunts him (and haunts her too, she realizes) since the day his best friend died. She wants to reach out and touch him, to hold him (and her need for it surprises her) but she stops herself; she wants to give him a final moment with Chloe, too.

He reaches out and touches, almost reverently, Chloe's name, engraved on the tombstone.

And then he stands up, turns away. "Goodnight Lois."

She doesn't look at him and feels rather than hears him walk away. The wind rustles the trees and then settles again and she closes her eyes and whispers to the night, "Goodnight Superman."

The End