A bit of setup is required for this fic. It was started after the events of "Reckoning" and was finished before "Hypnotic." Clark and Lana did break up at the same time as they did in "Hypnotic." Nothing that happened after "Hypnotic" happened in this world.

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Chapter 1

Going Home

Early Thursday morning - Halfway between Metropolis and Smallville

Whoever said, 'You can't go home again,' was right, but that person never tried talking Perry White out of a story assignment. So Clark Kent was driving down Interstate 70 toward his hometown of Smallville, Kansas, wondering how he had gotten into this mess. He hadn't visited Smallville since his mother died, and had vowed to never return. Too many memories, too much pain. Everything there reminded him of someone…Mom, Dad, Chloe, Pete, and most of all, Lana.

Even thinking her name was a brand on his heart and he winced from the pain of remembrance.

Yet, faithful employee that he was, his suitcases were in the trunk with a garment bag draped over the top. His one solace was that Lois was on vacation this week. He thanked God profusely for small mercies. The humiliation of being assigned to write a fluff piece on his own high school twenty-year reunion was bad enough without her being in Metropolis to rub it in. Lois had always owned a supernatural talent for getting under his skin, even during the brief time they'd tried dating.

How did this happen, you ask? How did a Kerth award winner like Clark end up doing a human interest story instead of his forte, investigative reporting? True beginnings are hard to uncover, but it might have started when Perry got an official-looking envelope in the mail.

The previous Tuesday afternoon - Perry White's Office

"Kent," Perry bellowed, "get in here. I've got your next assignment for you."

Seconds later, Clark Kent strolled through the open door, and said, "What's up, Chief? Got a lead on a government corruption scandal that you need me run down?"

Clark started to close the door, when Perry said, "Don't worry about it, Kent, this story won't require any secrecy."

Easing his way into a chair upholstered with brown leather, Clark noticed Perry was holding a letter. It was definitely expensive paper, not the kind you would expect to be used by the crackpots who normally write to the editor to complain about everything from the price of gas to what is on the lunch menu at the public schools. Like Perry controls any of that anyway, Clark thought.

"Whatcha got there?" Clark asked.

Holding the paper up, Perry said, "This? This is an invitation…an invitation for you to attend your high school reunion. According to this piece of paper, this will be your twenty-year reunion."

"How'd you get that, Perry? I received my copy two weeks ago and sent back a reply that said I wasn't going to be able to attend this year."

"Oh, but you are going to be able to go, Kent. Attending your reunion is your new assignment. I want you to attend the whole thing, from the Friday evening barbeque to the Saturday afternoon picnic to the formal dinner on Sunday night. When you come back, I expect you to have a heart-warming account of your reunion all typed up and ready to print."

"But, Chief…" Clark started to say, before Perry cut him off with a curt, "This is not a discussion, Kent. This is an order. Take the rest of the week off so you'll be ready to go. I've already accepted in your name."

"Yes, Sir," Clark said, as he turned for the door.

"One more thing, Kent." Clark looked over his shoulder and wondered what else the old bast…old man could want now. "If you don't go to this reunion, don't worry about coming back in next Monday."

Clark was red-faced with a combination of anger and shame as he collected his black wool overcoat and black leather briefcase and headed for the elevator. He went five floors down and then switched to an express elevator which took him to the ground floor. Clark strode out of the lobby and into the Metropolis sunshine where he hailed a cab.

As the cab pulled away from the curb, Perry was up in his office, wondering what he was supposed to do with a piece of crap like a story about a reunion. He might actually end up having to print the stupid article just to cover his ass. But, in return, he would have a U.S. Representative that owed him a very large favor.

Reaching his apartment, a spacious three-bedroom affair, Clark changed out of his clothes and showered, thinking all the while about Smallville, about how he never wanted to go back, and about who he might meet.

Her.

Trying to take his mind off this forced walk down memory lane, Clark waited for nightfall, donned his Superman outfit, and patrolled the skies of Metropolis. Any miscreant out tonight was likely to be on the receiving end of some pent up frustration, but other than a couple of muggings he was able to stop, not much offered itself to relieve his stress.

The next day was Wednesday and he spent it washing clothes, shining his best Ferragamo shoes, and packing a suitcase and a garment bag. Not knowing exactly what he would need for three days in Smallville, Clark packed a lot, eventually necessitating a second suitcase. He was about to turn in for the night when his phone rang. Upon picking it up and saying hello, a voice he had not heard in years said, "Hey, Clark! What's up?"

An involuntary grin spread across his face as he realized he was not dreaming. "Pete? Pete Ross? To what do I owe the great and unexpected pleasure of a personal phone call from a member of the House of Representatives?"

"I'm just calling to see why you aren't coming to Smallville for the class reunion," Pete replied. "You didn't come to the ten-year or fifteen-year reunions, but I was sure you'd make it to this one."

"Well, Mr. Representative, I haven't been back to Smallville since the last time I saw you, at Mom's funeral." Clark's eyes closed and his head turned back and forth in agitation, as he said, "It's too hard. My parents and one of my closest friends are buried there, and you and…and someone else almost joined them a time or two."

"It's not your fault, Clark. People are responsible for their own actions."

"My fault or not," Clark said, "someone has changed my plans for me. I'm being forced to attend the reunion. Apparently, word of my belated acceptance has not made the rounds yet."

"I'd like to say I'm sorry, but I'd be lying…hey, I know, how'd you like to meet tomorrow, a day early, to talk about old times. The last two times I've seen you have been on less than happy occasions and we never got a chance to talk."

"Okay, Pete, talking with you will be the one part of this trip to which I'm looking forward. Where do you want to meet?"

"How about the Talon, at noon?" Pete asked.

Clark lowered himself into a leather recliner, and said, "It's still open? I figured after Lex died, that would've closed down."

"Nope, it's still open and it's still a coffee house. Someone bought it from Luthor Corp after Lex died and kept it pretty much the way it always was."

"That'll be okay then," Clark said, "as long as…oh, I don't know how to say this, as long as…"

"As long as Lana doesn't work there anymore?"

"Yeah. That's what I was trying to say."

"Don't worry, Clark," Pete said, "she's the art teacher at Smallville High now. I seriously doubt she'll be at the Talon at noon on a school day."

"That sounds fine to me then. The Talon at noon it is."

Thursday morning - Smallville

Clark had taken a room at a local hotel whose main feature was that it was located as far from the old Kent Farm as he could get. He still didn't know who had bought the farm from his mother when she sold the place, or even if it was still a farm

Once his belongings were stored in his room, he climbed back into his Audi A8 and headed for the Talon. Clark was a few minutes early, having broken himself of the habitual lateness of his youth due to his need, as a reporter, to be on time for interviews.

Clark was already seated at a table in the back with a triple espresso before Pete wandered in the door. Being that Pete was a politician, Clark should have anticipated his need to make an entrance. While Clark was still in the white t-shirt and jeans he had worn to drive, Pete was nattily attired in a gray summer-weight suit with a red power tie. Clark nearly leapt out of his chair and the two old friends shared a bone-crunching hug.

As they separated, Pete dabbed at his eyes with a linen handkerchief and said, "Damn, Son. Watch it with the extra-strength hug. You almost made me cry."

"Sorry," Clark said. He sat back down and surreptitiously picked a napkin up off the table and began to dab at his eyes. "I don't know why I'm crying, 'cause I know girls that hug harder than you do."

Pete signaled for a waitress and ordered a plain, black coffee before returning his attention to Clark. "I'll be damned if it's not good to see you, Clark. You are a sight for sore eyes."

"I'm glad to see you and I'm even more glad you were the first person I ran into, Pete. You're the only person left alive who knows me. Knows the real me, that is."

"You mean you never told…?"

"Lana?" Clark asked.

"Yeah."

Looking down at the tabletop, Clark whispered, "I told her once and she died within a day."

Pete was stunned, and said, "Umm…Clark, you want to run that by me one more time?"

Pete's coffee was delivered, he paid, and Clark said, "Let's go for a walk. As the only one alive who will believe me, do I ever have a story to tell you."