[[There aren't enough Clark/Brenda fics in the world. So, on request of Abitat Eco,I give you THIS filled with fluff and some headcanons. I tried to think of a clever title... but I think I failed in that department.

Disclaimer: Don't own Clark. Don't own Brenda. Don't own nothing to do with PL.

Spoilers: For Last Spectre and some for Unwound Future.

Set: Before the Tritons leave Misthallery at the end of the fourth game.]]

Clearing the Distance

"There you are," Clark sighed with colossal relief when he finally found Brenda. She was sitting on the steps outside the manor; a purple shawl was draped across her shoulders and a steaming mug of Oasis Berry tea heated her slender hands. The nightly breeze was crisp, but there was no fog in sight.

Brenda offered him a weary albeit serene smile. "Sorry if I worried you. I just needed some fresh air." Which was hardly surprising after the months she'd endured confined to that ghastly cellar.

The husband coughed, trying to regain his composure. Of course, she could easily tell that he had been tearing around the house in his frantic search for her. His anxious gaze hadn't left her since she'd come home safely that afternoon. Clark explained, "Doland said that you couldn't sleep."

"Doland's still up?" Brenda's brow furrowed. "He should really be resting."

"He insists on examining every room before retiring to bed." (According to the elderly butler, the pseudo- Doland had done a horrendous job of keeping the manor in pristine order.)

Clark quietly closed the front door so not to disturb Luke and Doland. For a long moment, he simply stood there, drinking in every detail of the woman he loved with his entire being. From her curling hazel hair, to her delicate frame, to her fatigued yet kindest expression, to the endearing dimples in her cheeks, to her bright eyes that could outshine the deepest darkness...

These past months without her beside him had felt like a thousand years. Clark wasn't alleviated when he'd discovered where the masked man was keeping Brenda, alive. She had still been so far from Clark's reach. The thought of never seeing her face, holding her, cherishing her again nearly broke him. By some blessing Clark didn't believe he deserved, their family had been reunited.

But now... there was an icy distance between the couple, caused by the limbo of their separation. It was as if they were both standing on opposite sides of an endless bridge; Clark knew he must mend this gap if they were to ever truly be together again.

The question was... How was he supposed to do that?

Slowly, Clark seated himself next to her. He was surprised at how quickly Brenda nestled into his shoulder, seeking the warmth of his body. Her soft hair, graced with the scent of lavender petals, tickled his nose. Clark was instantly reminded of the days when they first met; of the nights they'd spent snuggled together on Gressenheller's museum roof, star watching and trading treasured secrets...

What had happened to those untroubled times? They'd grown older; Clark became engrossed with his career, Brenda left her job to look after Luke... As expected within all marriages, they'd had their fair share of arguments brought on by stress or bills or hurtful words. However, they always managed to make up to in the end.

So why, for the life of me, can't I speak to her now?! Clark thought.

He wet his lips to speak. "Brenda... God, I don't know what to say..."

"Please, just talk to me," she begged.

Luke was tucked up in bed. Hershel and his assistant had gone back to the hotel. Misthallery was at peace. There would be no better time than the present.

"I... I missed you so much," he began lamely, "Luke, too..."

"I know," Brenda whispered. She paused for a moment, preparing herself from an onslaught of distressing memories. "When I was... trapped, I heard Luke crying out for me. First I thought I'd imagined it, but then... then I heard your voice as well."

She referred to the desolate nights Clark had spent calling for her in his dreams. It was only whenever he awoke did he realize she was still missing, and wept for her even more.

"I should have tried harder to save you myself!" Clark ground out.

At first Brenda was shocked by his outburst. Then she shook her head. "What could you have possibly done, Clark? That monster had everyone's hands tied. He threatened to harm Luke! Imagine if Hershel hadn't arrived when he did!"

Clark muttered, "If I was half the man Hershel is, perhaps I could have freed you sooner..."

"You know that's not true," Brenda said firmly, putting a hand to his bearded cheek. "None of this mess was your fault. And for goodness sake— stop comparing yourself to Hershel! He may be a hero, but he isn't superhuman."

"You can't deny that he is stronger than me, after everything he's been through."

Hershel knew what it was like to have the woman he loved ripped away from him. Whereas Clark and Brendas' separation had simply been temporary, Hershel would never see his sweetheart again.

The conversation had taken a very different turn. (They seldom discussed Claire's demise.)

"I wasn't there enough for him after she passed..." Clark breathed shamefully.

"N-neither was I," Brenda admitted, sniffling. "One of my dearest friends from university had d-died and I was completely unaware."

At that point in their lives, the Tritons had already left their cramped London flat for a larger house in the countryside. They did eventually hear the horrifying news of Claire Foley's death... one month too late. It got worse; they'd learned from Mr and Mrs Layton that Hershel was critically injured in hospital. Luke, only a toddler at the time, wouldn't remember the comatose state Hershel had been in when the family finally reached their friend's bedside.

Clark closed his eyes. "However, Hershel immediately rushed to Misthallery at the request of an old university friend he hadn't seen in years." The bearded mayor allowed himself a weak smile. "Well, at the typed request of his friend's son. Luke's letter may have contained absurd tales of a giant plaguing our town, but Hershel still came at all costs. In Misthallery's hour of need, in our family's hour of need...That is why Hershel is a better man than I could ever hope to be—"

Brenda suddenly silenced him with a kiss. This wasn't like the hasty, desperate embrace they had shared earlier. "I don't want a better man," she murmured against his lips. "All I have ever dreamed of is you, Clark Triton." She grinned at him (dare Clark think she appeared seductive). "Let's take a holiday, escape Misthallery for a while. Luke can come if he wishes, or he can stay with Hershel. We could go absolutely anywhere in the world, as long as we're together. Please, darling!"

"We will leave soon," Clark assured her breathlessly. "...But not quite yet. There's so much damage to repair here first. It's my duty to oversee the full recovery of the town."

"You and Hershel are more alike then you believe," Brenda sighed wistfully. "He would never abandon his work either... But promise me, as soon as the damages are repaired, that we can go away?"

"I promise."

If there was any bright side to the darkness that had once befallen Misthallery, it had brought Clark and Brenda Triton closer together.