Disclaimer: I do not own Smallville or any of its characters.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
A sudden determination overpowered the sadness in his eyes and his mouth tensed. Lana recognized the look; he took a step forward.
"Clark, don't."
He continued moving towards her. Backing up as he climbed the steps, she saw his hand grab the railing for support.
"Clark."
She couldn't let him do this to himself nor could she let herself do this to him. It wasn't right, she thought. Yet another thought quickly followed the first: It isn't fair. As the man she once thought invincible stumbled towards her, Lana indulged the fantasy of his fingers brushing across her cheek, just one more time.
Just one last time.
"Clark."
Her voice was barely a whisper now, as quiet as her resolve was weak. Finally close enough to touch her, Clark wrapped his hands around her shoulders. Lana felt the warmth from his palms and realized no matter how many times they touched, that spark she felt from their bare skin connecting would always be there. Even as he stood before her at his weakest, never had she felt so fragile beneath his touch. Her whole body went rigid, a final effort to resist Clark's stubborn attempt to try to preserve what they could no longer have. Yet as the determination in his eyes melted into devotion, she broke her inner stalemate. With his hand cradling her face with just the slightest pressure, their lips connected. Once again Lana felt whole, felt safe, felt like she could do anything she dreamed. She had always felt that way around Clark, despite all their arguments and rough patches. He was her paradise; he was her Eden.
Suddenly, she felt him push away slightly. Exile, Lana thought chaotically, wondering how much her fall from grace, from Clark's grace, would hurt. Soon, however, she saw that it was Clark who was falling, falling from her embrace to his knees. It was then that a distant memory resurrected itself, and Lana cried when she recalled Chloe's prophecy.
What the textbook left out is that Isis is also the goddess of the underworld. She's responsible for bringing the great god Ra to his knees.
Lana stared at her hands resting on his back. She wanted to be able to hold his hand, to ruffle his hair, to feel his heartbeat. The mere brush of her fingers on his neck, however, was sending tremors through his body. So she detached them. Walking away, Lana tried to gather her composure so she could tell him goodbye. She had decided she could at least give him that. Turning around, she watched him struggle, though he was unaware of it. As she saw him unable to get up off the loft floor, the words ran through her mind over and over like a CD that was skipping.
She's responsible for bringing the great god Ra to his knees.
She's responsible for bringing the great god Ra to his knees.
She's responsible for bringing the great god Ra to his knees.
So Lana said her goodbyes. She even said those three words. It didn't break her like she thought it would. She walked away, hurting but not broken.
What did break her, though was hearing her god, her hero whisper his final farewell with the voice of the boy she thought had disappeared long ago:
"I love you."