A/N: just to let you know my mum wrote this and I am just guest posting. We don't own this.
Now; please. If you don't like a Clark and Lana story, then don't read. This was my mum's first try at a fic and I haven't been telling her the replies as in my mind they are borderline insulting. If you do read and don't like then don't comment. Keep opinions to your selves. And this also goes for the people who don't send a signed review so I can't reply back.
No nasty comments please. We all get our kicks out of different parts of the show known as "Smallville".
So again; if you don't like – don't read. If you chose to read, no flaming. If you have a serious problem with this fic and you want to be nice about it, fine – talk to me and we will work it out.
-Thank you.
Break Even
"One's still in love while the other one's leaving
'cause when a heart breaks, no it don't breakeven"
Clark Kent, the former small town boy, now lived in the bustling city of Metropolis. He wished he didn't.
Clark Kent, the shy, well-mannered man, had to put up with, and sometimes emulate some rough and hard-hitting behaviour, in order to get the job done. He felt like a hypocrite.
Clark Kent now knew how Lana felt when she took those drugs to become closer to her parents, she had also said: "Nothing is worse than losing the one you love. " Lana was right.
"What am I gonna do, when the best part of me was always you"
He had a new secret and he felt guilty about it.
Clark Kent, whose calling in life was to help people, had almost begun to resent them for being so helpless. He had tried to fill up the void inside himself by doing good things, but it was becoming increasingly hard. She had been the wellspring of his strength, and without her, he was a shell, one that was slowly crumbling in upon itself. He berated himself for it, and he still answered the calls for help. But the joy had gone, his purpose had changed. His focus was different. He had almost lost hope, almost and then he had found something to help him continue.
"They say bad things happen for a reason,
But no wise words gonna stop the bleeding"
Perry White's voice broke the silence, "... and I want something printable about these two anonymous saviours, something newsworthy, understand?"
There was the sound of a door shutting, and an annoying voice.
He tried to block it out, but superhearing kicked in – "think of something else - puppies? too cute, doing my laundry? – too boring, what will I have for dinner? I could... Oh, time to zone back in, she's finishing"
"...and I told him "That's final!" got it?"
She strode up to stand in front of Clark's desk, making him look up at her to answer.
Clark gave her what he thought was a politely interested smile. She wasn't impressed.
"I..."
"No time for that, did you hear anything I said? " Lois was not getting her way with Perry, and that meant everyone else should watch their back.
Clark opened his mouth to offer another excuse, but just couldn't bring himself to utter it. It had been a very long day, in an even longer week, and that week had begun to be indistinguishable from the ones before it. He knew how long it had been though, since that day. Knew it instinctively, felt it even, deep inside, the way a hibernating animal knows that spring has come again.
Three months and four days, (he could tell you the hours and minutes if you wanted) since his beloved, his soulmate, had left him almost prostrate in his loft. The pain he had felt from the kryptonite a lesser one than the pain of his heart being wrenched from his chest when she took most of it with her.
"I'm still alive but I'm barely breathing"
He allowed himself to say her name, reverently in a hushed tone ..."Lana..."
"You're not still thinking about her, are you?" was Lois' exasperated response. She started to play with the pencils in a cup on his desktop.
Crap, did I say that out loud? He allowed himself the briefest of glances at his locked bottom desk drawer.
"Did you want something Lois, I'm about to head off for the day." Clark Kent was nothing, if not polite, even when changing the subject.
"Well, since you mention it, Smallville I was intending to ask you about the awards dinner, you know, on Friday night?" He looks pretty good in that suit today, and I know he looks great in a tux.
"I wasn't aware that I was required to attend, being the newest reporter around here." There's usually a traffic accident I can help with, and I need to go see Oliver again.
"I'm going to help you out, introduce you around a bit to people that matter. I've got a new dress and standing next to you is going to make me look good." If he has a few drinks, and has a good time, I can help him forget about her once and for all. She put one of the pencils in her mouth.
"Lois, I really don't think that scene is for me. Besides, I've still got some unpacking to do."
"You've been in your apartment for, what – months? Which I still haven't seen, by the way – I could come by and ... help you get more comfortable?"
"What? Umm, no Lois, it's fine! " Quick think of something. Oh, good, here comes Jimmy Olsen. "J ...Jimmy is coming over to lend me a hand."
Jimmy entered the room stopping briefly to say "Hi "at another desk, looking up as he heard his name mentioned. Is Mr Kent talking about me?
Lois bent over so that she could speak more quietly into Clark's ear.
"I don't think Jimmy could give you the sort of help that you need. I know you're lonely Clark, and we're friends, aren't we? I could, you know, help you with that. "She smoothed her hand over her hip. I could go a long way on a few stories of what it's like with Smallville, and maybe get some inside information about those miraculous saves he seems to know about.
Clark was shocked – if she meant what he though she meant... he entertained the thought for a fraction of a nano second then mentally shuddered and apologised to Lana's memory. Before he could begin to splutter out an answer which he hoped wouldn't sound too rude, but would put an end to her suggestions once and for all, Jimmy came to his rescue somewhat.
"Miss Lane, you wouldn't want to do that, aren't you allergic to dogs?"
"What's that got to do with anything?" Lois snapped, and the pencil she slammed down on the desk did too.
"Well, last I head CK still had Shelby, isn't that right?" He said as he turned to Clark with a smile.
Clark nodded and sighed. His companion would be waiting for him, and it was time he saw Oliver again too.
"You mean that mangy mutt is shedding hair around as we speak?" Lois vowed never to set food in Clark's apartment if she could help it.
"I gave him a good brushing last night, there shouldn't be any at all." Clark replied as he visibly brightened. Jimmy you are a life-saver.
"I'm sure you're right Smallville, but on second thought, I think Jimmy could be a great help after all." Last time I try and help out a friend. "I need another pencil, care to share?" and she reached down to pull open the desk drawer. Clark had to stop himself superspeeding to prevent it.
"It's stuck. Oh well, see you tomorrow. Hey Richard, wait up, I want to ask you a question!" she called the last part loudly, while pushing off the desk and hurrying across the room.
"What was all that about, you do still have Shelby right? How is the old boy? Last time I saw him, I think he was getting a bath at the farm by Lan..." He trailed off, and shifted his eyes sideways. "Sorry."
"No, Jimmy, it's fine. You can say her name. She's not gone, not really. I want to hear you say it." Clark closed his eyes for a brief moment and sighed, as if being overwhelmed by the memory.
Lana loved to read, and she'd been on a Jane Austen binge. "This is us Clark," she'd said, showing him the cover of her copy of "Persuasion".
"How do you mean?" he had said, sitting beside her and capturing one of her hands in his own.
"Where it says – 'loving longest, when existence or when hope is gone.' Our love has survived so many tests." She lifted their clasped hands and kissed them.
"Lana, she loved, loves dogs." Offered Jimmy, bringing Clark out of his thoughts and back to the present.
"Yes, she does."
Jimmy was emboldened by Clark's calm manner and ventured to ask "You haven't seen her in a while, how's that going?"
Clark's jaw tightened imperceptibly as he replied "I'm trying Jimmy, you know I've been keeping tabs on these amazing saves, trying to track them. And I've been working, so hard, trying to find a way to neutralise that, that ...stuff." His voice gradually lowered as his head bowed.
Jimmy was just about to answer when Clark's head snapped up, he'd heard sirens, and screaming, always screaming, sometimes he wondered if it wasn't coming from inside his own head.
"Gotta go Jimmy, got to see a man about a dog." And that's no lie!
He grabbed his briefcase, and with human swiftness, was gone from the room. The smouldering oil tanker had broadsided a car, the woman passenger had been thrown clear, and the man was trapped. She was being held back by the paramedics and screaming at the top of her voice: "Don't leave me, please! Don't leave me alone!"
That heartrending statement drove a knife right through where his heart used to be. Not if I can help it.
He blurred in, dark jacket and face shrouded by a hood. He wasn't silly enough to think a pair of glasses would disguise his appearance enough, and it was a mental wink to a TV show that Lana had liked – she was always attracted to heroes. The lines were very fitting now: "Nothing is forgotten, nothing is ever forgotten." Like I could anyway, eidetic memory, but she didn't know than then.
The impending explosion was snuffed by an icy blast, the man's body carefully deposited on a stretcher, injured but alive. The woman, her dark hair streaming, ran to touch him, to assure herself her husband was actually safe. She looked around, wide eyed and sobbed out: "Thank you, oh thank you! May what you do come back to you."
Clark looked back from the distance, hearing her words. I hope so.
"Now I'm tryna make sense of what little remains,"
When he reached his apartment door, after that ordeal, he felt the need creeping up on him, it was getting stronger every day and the guilt was lessening too. Then he remembered, he'd left it back at the Planet. In an instant, he was walking towards his desk. Bending down, he unlocked the drawer, took the sought for item in his hand and put it on the desk top as he slid the drawer shut.
"You forget something Smallville, or are you reconsidering my offer?" Lois tried to make her voice sound husky and inviting but it sounded more like a bad Mae West impression.
Clark's shoulders tightened as he re-locked the drawer, turning to face her and reply.
But she had already seen what he had retrieved and reached for it. "A matchbox? You came back for that! You really are a boyscout aren't you? Shoot, it's heavy!"
"Thanks Lois." He succeeded in taking it from her hand without touching her, and slid it into his pocket.
"Well, what have you got in there, hidden treasure?"
"Just something I need for later. See you tomorrow." He gave a mocking half-salute with his hand, and was gone. Precious as treasure to me, she came closer than she thought.
As he exited the building he caught the tail end of a question "Do I need a stamp to send this email?" Is she serious?
Reaching his door for the second time that night, he heard the scuffling behind it and smiled. Time to put someone else's needs before his own again.
"Hey Shelby, how's my boy?" Clark bent and ruffled the greying fur as the dog pressed against his hand and thumped his tail. "You hungry, want to try Oliver first and see if he's come through for us?" He looked up, and then looked again. That was what was left of his coffee table lying splintered on the rug, wasn't it?
"Okay, it does seem to be working, but I thought you were better trained than that! Time for the last shot?"
Clark quickly heated a macaroni dinner with his heat vision while he rang Oliver on a secure line. He wanted to tell her: I had a dream about you last night. That way she would know he was feeling sad and needed her. She had left him a message only he would understand, things they had said to each other, and that way they knew how each one was feeling. Her message this week was: Maybe it's me who needs to start believing in you. That told him she trusted him and knew he was working to make things right.
He was, along with Oliver and his team. They had been working in conjunction with Star Labs for the past couple of months, researching everything they could about kryptonite, Clark supplying information from sources they could only speculate on. Of course, it began as a desperate quest on Clark's behalf to find a cure for Lana, the longer it took, the more frustrated he had become. In some weird cosmic justice, they were even using some of Lex's scientists who were fiercely loyal now to Oliver and his cause. An interesting side effect had come to light, however. When testing slivers of red kryptonite for its properties, as opposed to green, they had discovered a rejuvenating action, but only when the DNA had been originally meteor infected. Thus Shelby had become a perfect test subject. He was going blind, and his limbs had stiffened with arthritis – he'd not had long to go. But with tiny amounts of red kryptonite introduced into his food, he had begun to take on a new lease of life which would gradually fade as it wore off – but the effect was cumulative. One more treatment, they said, this time a larger amount via injection, and a permanent change would occur.
Clark reached for the small box and cradled it in his hand, his breathing quickened. Shelby woofed, however and he put it down again. Time for that later. "Okay, boy. Let's go."
He thanked Dr Dent, and lifted Shelby down from the table. It was done.
"You know Mr Kent," said the scientist as he cleared away the vials and washed his hands, "what else this means, if it works as it has been, and today's final dose cements the change?"
"Yes, I think so – Shelby is well again and can go for a good run with me, without getting tired out."
"OK, define 'good run' for me."
"Couple of miles?"
The doctor smirked an "I love doing this" type of smirk and answered "Try couple of hundred."
Clark was astonished, but smiling. "You mean he's regained the powers he had when he was Krypto?"
"Maybe not to the same extent, but he'll be fit and strong, and keep up with you as long as you don't take off or something, and..."
"What, there's more?" Clark couldn't stop smiling and ruffled Shelby's furry ear.
"As far as I can tell, he's now ... basically immortal."
That made Clark look up really fast to the doctor's face to see if he was joking. He wasn't. The reality sunk in and Clark had to bend his head down to Shelby again to hide the tears that had sprung to his eyes. Now I don't have to be alone.
"And what am I supposed to say, when I'm all choked up and you're okay"
"Make sure Oliver tells Lana." He mumbled, then turned and left with Shelby trotting at his heels.
Clark's first thought, when he got back again to the apartment, was to ring Martha. It wasn't too late and he knew she worked all hours in Washington. He explained it to her in general terms, reserving the sensitive details for when he would see her again. But she got the hint, her mothers' intuition picking up on his tone of voice. He had said, "Shelby is really well now, mom. I'm going to have to jog a bit faster to keep up with him."
"I'm so happy for you, honey." And she was. But she wanted to be happier. She asked about Lana. He told her the news on that front wasn't so good. They chatted a few minutes more, Clark enjoying her voice, but impatient to be on his own now. Thinking of Lana again had reminded him of what he had promised himself earlier. There was no reason now to wait any longer. He needed it tonight, more than ever.
"While I'm still grieving, and when a heart breaks, no it don't breakeven,"
It was finally quiet in the city, the lights were dim and Shelby was asleep on his dog bed down the hall. Clark took off his shoes, outwardly composed, but his insides were in turmoil. He reached into his pocket for the box. The guilt struck him again, but he brushed it aside. He would have to admit it to Lana, of course, eventually, but he was sure she would understand – the longing, the need, and the desperation to do something, anything to feel close to her.
He slid the lead- lined tray out, immediately the contents began to glow. The softest of green lights made a reflection on the ceiling that was almost pretty, but he didn't have a thought for anything except the welcome tightening of his stomach, the sweat that beaded on his brow as he tipped the miniscule splinter of kryptonite into his palm and sighed – with relief. With pain came such pleasure, and the memory of their kiss in the loft assaulted his senses again. Her lips - so soft, welcoming his, her body enclosed in his arms, her hair brushing his face. He was there, with her again, where he should ever be.
This was his guilty secret; he had stolen the tiny piece from the lab when they had started their research. Originally his crazy idea had been to expose himself to kryptonite gradually, and somehow try and build up immunity to it. But after a while, he had had to admit to himself he had actually enjoyed reliving the experience, feeling so human. Lana was his link to humanity, and now kryptonite was too. He wanted to make it part of himself, like her, although logic decreed otherwise. In the first dark days, he had not known how he was going to get through, until the first time he had smuggled it home. Now it was his addiction, his solace, his reward. Like a plant removed too long from the sun, like a confined animal finally freed – he revelled in it. His heart, his life, his Lana.
When he was thinking clearly, he would muse that it was ironic, (or maybe quite fitting considering how far from normal anyway his life had always been), that his two weaknesses were now combined into one. Lana and kryptonite, forever fused together, sought, craved for and loved.
"I'm falling to pieces, yeah, I'm falling to pieces,
'cause when a heart breaks, no it don't breakeven"
He knew just how long to allow himself the delicious torture, and tonight he was pushing it, he just wanted to remember that "I love you " one more time. His breath was coming in gasps, his vision was blurring, he clenched his hand involuntarily and the movement knocked the box to the tiled floor with a dull clang. Through his clouded vision he saw blood seeping from his palm; he'd driven the tip of the splinter into his flesh accidentally. That can't be good. He wasn't panicking though, not yet, not until he realised that he couldn't will his left hand to take the splinter out of his right, and that he was rapidly losing consciousness. Somebody save ...
It was at that moment; Shelby chose to amble back into the living room. Perhaps the noise had alerted him to something amiss, perhaps he was in tune with his master's mood, or he could have just been hungry. His whiskered wet nose touched Clark's limp outstretched hand, and he gave it a brief lick. Clark was confused but certain of one thing – he wasn't dying, in fact he was feeling better. Heart rate, breathing all slowed to normal. He looked at his right hand, it was uninjured and the kryptonite splinter had fallen to the floor – and it was no longer glowing. Shelby sat next to his leg; head cocked to one side, tail wagging, as Clark patted his head and smiled that charming, famous Kent smile. He reached for the phone, he didn't know what time of night it was, knew little and cared less and he didn't care if he was going to be yelled at either because of said time.
His message to Oliver was, "You tell her: Clark Kent will always love Lana Lang, but he'll love her even more when she becomes Lana Kent, and this time, things really will be different."
"When a heart breaks, no it don't breakeven"
Very soon his heart would be quite whole again.
The End