Heartache

by Annie M1

Clois. This is a ONE-PART story set between the season 4 episodes “Recruit” and “Krypto.” Valentine’s Day is fast approaching. My submission for the Secret Valentine 2008 story challenge on the DI forum.

Title: Heartache

Author: Annie M

Series: Smallville

Rating: M

Codes: Lois, Clark and other familiar characters.

Part: One-shot (complete)

Notes: This was my submission for a recent Secret Valentine story on the DI forum. I had to set the story in season 4, it had to have an adult rating (M/NC-17), and my prompt word was "heartache."

Summary:This story is set between the S4 episodes "Recruit" and "Krypto," and Valentine's Day is fast approaching.

All spellings used here are British.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction. No infringement intended to DC, Warner Bros etc.

(c) Annie M, 14th February 2008.

Heartache by Annie M

--S--

Saturday, 12th February 2005

Clark Kent took his time loading up the family pick-up truck. He and his father, Jonathan Kent, were at Tyler's Grain and Feed store on the outskirts of Smallville to collect their monthly supply of hay, animal bedding, straw, livestock vitamins, animal wound wrappings and ointments and a new hoof knife.

He left his father to haggle over the final costing with Glenn Tyler, Mr. Grain and Feed himself, while he loaded the truck with the supplies, making a show of having to exert himself every now and then to avoid any suspicious looks or awkward questions.

Dusting his gloved hands off as he wondered back into the store he spotted his father at the check out--a large flat, sturdy looking shelf/desk that you could haul things over or under as required--shaking hands with and sharing a joke with Tyler.

"Clark, careful of straining yourself, boy. I can tell you're strong, but let your old man carry some of the load," Tyler joked as Clark approached the men, clapping his father on the shoulder when he reached his side.

"I will, Mr. Tyler," Clark responded respectfully, offering the owner a smile.

Tyler looked at least a decade older than his father, with his greying dark brown hair, wiry frame, callused hands and craggy facial features, but in fact Jonathan and Glenn Tyler had attended Smallville High School together way back when.

"Hey, he left me one," Jonathan quipped mockingly, eyeing the single bail of hay positioned at his feet.

Tyler chuckled and reached out to shake Jonathan's hand again in parting, nodding his head towards an approaching customer. "You fellas take care now, and send my best to Martha, Jon," he said, before moving down the counter to offer his assistance to the new patron.

"Will do," Jonathan replied, folding and placing the goods invoice into his jacket pocket. He reached down to pick up the final item.

"I've got it, Dad," Clark said quickly, darting ahead of his father to hoist the large hay bail up into his hands.

As they headed through the store to the their truck, parked out front, Clark asked, "Where to now?"

"A card store," Jonathan replied with a smile, following his son into the late morning, winter sunshine.

"Card store?" Clark mused. It wasn't his mother's birthday or his own.

"It's Valentine's Day on Monday, Clark, and I want to do something special for your mother, including buying a card," he reminded his son. "Help me pick one out?"

He couldn't help the sour expression that twisted his mouth before answering, "Sure," with very little enthusiasm while he loaded the final bail onto the truck and pulled the tail door up to secure it before removing his work gloves.

"Come on, Clark," his father encouraged him as he slid into the driver's seat of the truck and started the engine. "Don't feel bad about not having a girlfriend right now. Believe me, I spent many a Valentine's Day single before I met your mother," he offered sympathetically.

Adjusting his seat belt Clark smiled weakly in return as the truck pulled away from the store and headed towards the centre of town.

"Are you sure you don't want to get a card for anyone special, son? What about Lois?"

"Lois?" Clark sputtered, turning to glare at his father at the suggestion.

Jonathan just shrugged happily. "Sure, she has a few rough spots, but she's a great girl," he said simply. "You do like her, don't you?" he questioned, keeping his eyes on the road.

Clark shrugged. "I guess. She's just… she's…" he shrugged again, unable to find an appropriate descriptor for the young woman who had barged, literally, into their lives (was it really only six months ago?) and was now living under their roof. Again.

Jonathan Kent smiled knowingly from the steering wheel.

--S--

"What do you think of this one?"

'You make my heart flutter,' stated the card, featuring a red and white butterfly with large, heart shaped wings.

"It's kind of cheesy."

"It's Valentine's, Lois, I pretty much think they're all going to be cheesy," Martha Kent advised with an indulgent smile.

Lois had popped into the Talon around 12:30 and had insisted Martha Kent take a break from running the coffee shop and grab lunch together. They'd shared herbal tea (Martha) a Frappuccino (Lois) and two slices of pecan pie with whipped cream (all Lois) before Martha had remembered she needed to get a Valentine card for her husband.

Lois quickly offered her assistance in picking one out and they'd spent the next thirty minutes in and out of Main Street's three greeting card and gift shops looking for something romantic enough to express Martha's feelings for her husband without sounding too adolescent.

Wondering down the row of cards Lois began flicking though the humorous section, stopping every now and then to chuckle at a card that tripped her funny bone.

"Are you going to buy one?" Martha enquired softly, coming to stand at Lois' elbow.

Lois snorted derisively, but the disapproving look on the older woman's face immediately made her temper her blatant sarcasm. "Sorry, Mrs. Kent," she apologised. "I never really got into the whole one day of romance spiel," she confessed.

"Oh, come on, Lois, I'm sure you must have had boyfriends in the past that sent you cards?" Martha enquired warmly.

In answer Lois pushed her hands deep into the front pockets of her jeans then rocked back on her heels for a moment before shrugging and shaking her head.

"Flowers?"

Lois smiled ruefully, shaking her head again.

"Candy?"

"No, Mrs. Kent. Most of the guys I was around growing up, were military brats," she stated evenly. "And the General was always moving us from one base to another, so…" she trailed off, turning away from the older woman and back to the cards.

Martha put a comforting arm around Lois' shoulder and squeezed.

Lois turned to smile brightly at her. "It's not a big deal Mrs. K. It's not like I didn't have boyfriends," she said. "Valentine's never really pinged my radar is all," she explained.

"Maybe one day it will," Martha confidently teased the younger woman.

"Yeah, right." Lois couldn't help her cynical reply, turning her attention back to the cards in front of her. "I wonder who I could get this one for," she joked lamely, fingering a card close by.

'Youwill love me!' it stated in bold black letters. Alongside the bold statement on the front of the card was the caricature of a young blond woman with blood shot eyes, her face a rictus of hysterical, homicidal intent, holding a gun aimed at the reader. Beneath the figure there was more text: 'Roses are red, Bullets are lead, Take me back now, or get shot in the HEAD!'

"Oh, Lois," Martha let out a concerned sigh. "That's awful."

Twisting her lips into a smirk Lois conceded, "Yeah, it's pretty out there."

Martha had taken to the young woman from almost the first moment they'd met. Lois had found an amnesiac Clark in a cornfield and brought him back to Smallville General, where Martha had been conducting an incredibly lonely and sometimes soul-destroying vigil over her husband, Jonathan, while he had lain in a coma for three months.

There was no question that Lois could be a little brusque at times, and she had absolutely no sense of boundaries; Martha and Jonathan had only appreciated the funny side of the situation days after the girl had happily barged into their bedroom, looking for fresh towels and linen one evening, while she and her husband had been canoodling together in bed. Fortunately they'd both been dressed (sort of) and while Lois appeared not to notice anything amiss, Jonathan had ground his teeth for the rest of the night in anger while she'd tried to soothe him.

It broke Martha's heart that the girl had lost her mother at such a young age and had appeared to drift, pretty much alone, from one army base or town to another. She'd met Sam Lane, Lois' father briefly, and while he seemed a decent fellow, it was obvious his priority didn't seem to be his daughter.

Martha conceded that she didn't really know the man well enough to draw such conclusions, but there were little things that Lois did or said around her or at the farm, that made her heartache for the girl. And that sadness, that hurt that she sometimes sensed in Lois, made her want to do right by the young woman in any way that she could.

--S--

"So you guys are coming over Monday night for movies and Pizza's, right?" Chloe Sullivan asked as she sipped at her Mocha-latte from one of the Talon's oversized coffee cups.

Saturday morning's winter sunshine had turned, by late afternoon, into cloudy and overcast skies, bringing with it a freezing wind that had the community of Smallville wrapping up tightly against it.

"Are you sure Uncle Gabe won't mind?" Lois asked sceptically. "It is a school night for you guys," she said, whipping her head between Chloe and their companion.

"Dad's in Central City on business, he won't be back until Wednesday. The house is ours," Chloe beamed with a triumphant swish of her short, blond hair.

Lois grinned at her cousin's enthusiasm. "Then I'm in," she confirmed.

"Clark?" Chloe hedged.

"I don't think so--" Clark started, but was interrupted by Chloe.

"Oh, come on. You really want to spend the most romantic night of the year holed up in your loft, alone? Or with friends, watching a heroic and historically accurate portrayal of the fall of Troy? With Brad Pitt." she couldn't help giggling. "And a host of other cute guys in short leather skirts."

"I think I'll pass," he replied mockingly.

"We could throw in a couple of Jane Austen movie adaptations for you, Clarkie," Lois teased from her seat beside the large framed teenager.

Clark gave Lois a withering look at her suggestion, clearly not impressed.

"Don't look at me like that, Smallville," Lois complained. "I sleep in your bedroom remember, I know what's on your bookshelves."

Chloe collapsed in a fit of laughter, slapping her hands down against the small table they were seated around. Her peels of laughter were infectious and eventually she had both Clark and Lois laughing right along with her, and several patrons at nearby tables, happily distracted by their racket.

"I can't believe I'm friends with you guys," Clark muttered to himself, despite his belated chuckles.

First to regain her composure Lois assured, "Come on, Clark, it'll be fun."

Considering the hulking farm boy had pulled her from a potentially watery grave a couple of weeks back, Lois figured she'd cut Clark a little slack and maybe tone down the level of derision he'd come to expect from her.

"We'll eat, tell jokes, I'll beat you at Play station, we'll throw pop-corn at the TV, and hey, it'll be a booze free zone, remember?" she said, referring to her promise to lay off the sauce, following the incident with Coop and Geoff Johns at Met U.

"The thing is, Lois, Dad's planned a secret, romantic getaway with Mom for Valentine's. They'll leave tomorrow afternoon and won't be back until Tuesday," he explained sincerely.

"Yeah, I know. Mr. K had me book their hotel stay in Granville, yesterday. But that doesn't explain why you can't take one night off from a few farm chores and school work," she said, noting how huge Clark's hands appeared to be, wrapped around the mug of hot chocolate he was sipping.

"With Dad away for a couple of days there's going to be a lot more chores for me to do, Lois. I'll be fine. Really," he insisted when his table companions fixed him with equally dubious stares.

Sometimes it amazed Lois that the goodie-too-shoes sitting next to her -- with his mostly vacant baby-blues, the wary martyr expression he wore, and his utter belief in doing the right thing -- could bend his back enough to even sit down.

The guy really needed to learn to loosen up and let go of himself sometimes. She knew he had a lot on his mind from recent events, and she couldn't blame him for that, but that didn't mean he had to hide behind "chores" and "responsibility" and "Lana's my ex-girlfriend" every time the going got a little tough.

His parents certainly didn't appear to be that uptight.

His hands are huge, popped into Lois's brain again, but the thought was easily dismissed.

"Your loss, Squareville," Lois couldn't help growling dismissively.

--S--

Monday, 14th February 2005

The halls of Smallville High had been decorated with pictures of hearts and flowers; students had adorned the walls of the music room and the cafeteria with images of long stemmed, single red roses, winged and arrow carrying cupids. The gym had balloons hanging in the rafters and the colour pink must have been given it's own official day, judging by the number of girls choosing to wear outfits with any kind of matching pink or red theme.

The day completely sucked as far as Clark was concerned. As he retrieved books from his locker girls had squealed in delight on either side of him as they opened mysteriously secreted Valentine's cards. As the day had worn on those squeals of excitement had turned into howls and then shrieks of despair as some girls found themselves disappointed, Clark had truly began to fear he might actually damage his sensitive ears.

The final bell of the day couldn't come soon enough for him and he made a quick exit, stopping only to hand in a football article to Chloe, begging off her repeated invitations to join her and Lois for their pizza, popcorn and movie night.

He'd arrived home to the sounds of the shower going in the bathroom and a note stuck on the fridge from Lois:

We're out of OJ and milk, but there's meatloaf and veggies in the fridge.

Clark pursed his lips, what happened to the pieces of roast chicken his mother had left? He knew he'd seen them and at least a half bottle of OJ this morning before he'd left for school.

He opened the fridge and found it unusually bare.

His Mom and Dad had barely been gone twenty-four hours and there was practically no food in the house? Man, he knew he had a pretty good appetite, but Lois certainly wasn't any kind of a stranger to food from what he'd seen.

He'd seen her eat salads, but more often she'd happily join him and his dad in putting away two or three helpings of his mom's dinners, including double helpings of desert afterwards too.

He knew his own metabolism worked differently, but where the hell did she put it all, he mused. Her body was in amazing shape. Her skin looked soft and sometimes he just wanted to reach in and stroke that expanse of stomach she was always showing off with those tight tee-shirts and short jackets she wore, and those jeans that sat just above her hips, giving a nice curve to the ridge of her backside.

It could really be distracting sometimes.

Clark groaned aloud. He did not like where his thoughts had just ventured, not one bit. He did not find Lois Lane attractive in any way. She was way too bossy, talked too much, had an opinion on everything, always had to have the last word in any argument, treated him like an imbecile and generally got on his nerves.

He had enough issues to ponder without her unwelcome image, or rather flashes of her stomach, invading his jumbled thoughts. Pulling the covered plastic tubs from the fridge, Clark set about heating up his dinner.

A half hour later Clark had eaten and changed into work clothes. Lois remained in the bathroom and she'd acknowledged his presence with a brief, "Okay," when he'd knocked on the door to let her know he was home.

Leaving her to it he'd begun his afternoon chores by leading the horses out to pasture from the stables and then walking the fence line perimeter of the farm, checking for any damaged posts or fencing.

--S--

Clark unfastened the barbed wire from around the damaged post and pushed it back and away with his gloved hands. When the wire was clear he stepped back briefly before turning in a slow three-hundred and sixty degree circle, scanning the grazing and pasture land around him for anything of the non-bovine or equine variety. Content that he was alone Clark then reached around and pulled the damaged post up from the ground, including its muddy stump before tossing it aside.

In the distance he heard a car engine start up and knew instinctively that Lois had finally dragged herself from the bathroom and was on her way to town to spend the evening with Chloe.

Their invitation tonight had made sense. They were all single and dateless for Valentine's and while he knew Lois and Chloe could have a perfectly good time ogling the likes of Brad Pitt or whatever they were likely to get up to, he really wasn't in the mood to make merry.

And knowing Lois, she'd probably start drinking again and end up spending the night on Chloe's couch anyway.

Reaching down Clark picked up the new post that lay nearby then drove it into the existing posthole with a mighty shove.

As the stake hit the earth an image of Alicia Baker's snapped neck filled his memory and he stumbled back with the intensity of the image. Guilt swept over him as he remembered how his own cowardice and mistrust in Alicia had led to her murder. If he'd only done as she'd asked; gone to Sheriff Adams and explained his own abilities, made the Sheriff and maybe the town see that having abilities didn't equal sociopath or killer.

Instead he'd been afraid. Afraid of how people would react if they knew the truth about him. Afraid of what would happen when they realised that his gifts weren't powered by meteor rocks but were extraterrestrial.

He'd refused Alicia's request because he'd been worried about how many friends he'd still have in Smallville after that fact was exposed.

He'd woken from nightmares in the weeks following Alicia's death that were always the same; finding Alicia's broken body at her home and then he'd be wrapping his hands around Tim Westcott, her murderer's, throat and squeezing. Squeezing tighter and tighter.

There was no Lois to stop him in his dreams, but there was no satisfaction in the nightmarish revenge he inflicted on Tim either. Alicia was still dead.

And he was the coward that lived.

Composing himself enough to work again, Clark packed earth around the new post and aligned it with the existing ones. Hot tears stung his cheeks as Alicia's vulnerable beauty and fragile sensitivity assaulted his memories.

He should have bought a rose for her grave.

The random thought stopped him for a moment and he closed his eyes tightly to ward off the fresh pain that he felt might overwhelm him. Taking a shaky breath he pulled the wire fencing back in and wrapped it around the restored post.

He worked the fence line until the past sunset, fixing fence wire and uprooting posts, whether they needed to be fixed or not. Fighting memories, fighting his guilt. Fighting his loneliness.

He brought in the horses and bedded them down for the night later than usual. Heading to the farmhouse for a drink to satisfy his thirst Clark remembered Lois' note. Going inside the house Clark double checked the fridge and spotted another note from Lois in her familiar scrawl.

It's not too late if you change your mind, Smallville. If not, see you after Chloe's--if you're still up! Lois.

How did she manage to put him down and encouraging him all within the space of a few words? He smiled, despite his sullen mood and shook his head. Her note should've probably irked him some, but he had to admit that Lois' persistence was growing on him.

Checking his watch first, Clark then dug into his pockets, pulling out a few dollars and some change. Leaving the kitchen in a blur he returned less than five minutes later with a fresh quart of orange juice, milk and a fresh loaf of bread. He opened the orange juice and drank a few mouthfuls straight from the bottle, wiping his chin with the back of his hand and putting the items away once he'd quenched his thirst.

Returning to the stables Clark swept up loose straw and shovelled manure from the walkways. He checked the water trough and that the cows were all accounted for. He mopped, he swept again, and he washed down surfaces, anything to keep himself busy.

When there was no more work to do, Clark quickly showered (the water was cold, as was usual, whenever he took a shower after Lois, since her return). Picking his way through the mess Lois had left of his room, he changed into a fresh tee-short and a clean pair of jeans before heading to his loft. Once he'd climbed the wooden stairs he'd grabbed his baseball from off of his desk and settled himself heavily into the small couch.

Thump … thump… thump. Repeatedly he tossed the ball against the wall he sat facing, until a light bulb went off in his head. He let the ball roll away as he got up and dug into his pocket for his cell phone. He scrolled through his contact numbers and found what he was looking for.

After finding the number he felt a little foolish, and the smile that had been playing on his lips turned to a frown as he considered the merits of making the call.

They hadn't talked in months, and he wondered if that would make a huge difference to how things would be between them now.

Only one way to find out, as his dad would say, so Clark pushed the call button and waited.

"Hello?"

Clark couldn't keep the smile out of his voice. "Hey, buddy, remember me?"

There was a short pause on the other end before a startled hoot of recognition. "Clark? Man, is that you?"

"Hey, Pete."

"Oh, wow. Man, this is wild. I can't believe you even called," Pete responded in wonder. "How the hell are you, man? How are your folks, and Chloe?"

It was good to hear his old friend's voice again. "Chloe's good, my folks are fine, and I'm doing okay," Clark managed to tick off in an upbeat tone. "How's life in Wichita?"

"Life is good, Clark. I made the football team at Wichita High, and get this; they actually let me get on the field and play. Eight touch down receptions for the season," Pete happily supplied.

"Pete, that's great." Clark was genuinely pleased for his old friend, he remembered their less than stellar attempts to try out for the Crows in their freshman year. "Who knew there was a football player in you trying to get out, huh?" he joked.

It seemed they'd both come a long way since then.

"Yeah, Pete 'the boss' Ross is back!" he laughed. "But I got nothing on you, Clark. I've seen your stats for the Crows and I hear the Metropolis Bulldogs are offering you a full ride. Sounds like life is sweet."

"I didn't take it. I couldn't."

Pete sounded genuinely surprised. "You're kidding, right? You're telling me you turned down a beeline to the NFL? You jacked in the land of milk and honey?"

"Think about it, Pete," Clark urged. "I couldn't do it."

Pete offered a resigned, "Oh… yeah. Right," after a few moments of silence. "Clark, can you hang on a for sec, I have to--"

On the other end of the line Clark could hear Pete talking in low tones to another person, and judging by the, "Come on, already," uttered impatiently by a female voice, he got the feeling he may have called at a bad time.

Shoot, Pete was probably out on a Valentine's date.

"Sorry about that," Pete said, coming back on the line.

"Hey, I'm sorry. If you're out on a date maybe I should call back in a couple of days or something," Clark offered.

"Ah, she's pissed right now, but we're cool," Pete replied, altering his voice to a whisper. "Look, it's a little awkward to talk, but tell me, what happened with the football? All those records I read about, were you using your powers?"

"No! I never used my abilities when I played, Pete. You should know me better than that."

"Sorry, man, I know you wouldn't, but then why quit?"

"At college there'd be random dope testing. I didn't want to cheat, and the minute they got a hold of my blood…."

Pete blew out a breath. "Damn. That must have hurt."

"Yeah."

"How did Lana take it?"

"We broke up. Actually we sort of broke up pretty soon after you left for Wichita."

"Serious?"

"Yeah. It just got too complicated."

"Oh."

Clark could tell from Pete's tone that he already knew what he really meant by "complicated."

"So, no girlfriend right now?" Pete asked.

Clark shook his head and somehow that translated as Pete chuckled at the other end.

"And that's why you're calling me tonight, 'cause you've got no date?"

"You'll have no date soon, hot shot!" a female voice shouted out.

"Jennifer, baby, calm down okay? I'll be right with you. I got my bro' on the line here and he needs me, sweetie."

"Your brother needs you for a date?" was the lovely Jennifer's caustic reply.

"Just give me five minutes, okay? Please? This is important," Pete argued softly.

"Fine, five minutes."

Clark listened to the exchange with a mixture of sympathy and embarrassment.

"Hey, man, you still there?" Pete enquired.

With a hint of pride and hope, Clark asked "I'm still your brother then?"

Pete laughed. "Always, man. Don't you know that? Or are you waiting for an engraved invitation to come up here and visit?"

"Point taken… bro'," Clark smirked.

"Listen, Clark, I'm glad you called, but I really have to go." His voice then dropped to a barely audible whisper, "Jennifer looks about ready to kill me, and I was kind of hoping for a stress free night," he explained.

"Oh, sure. Yeah, I get it," Clark quickly interjected. "We'll catch up again, soon."

"Yeah, so don't be a stranger, okay? Mom and my brothers would all love to see you too. Just tell 'em you took the bus or your parents let you drive up for the weekend. It'll be just like old times."

"I'd like that."

"Good. Bye, Clark."

"Bye, Pete. Take care."

"You too, man."

The signal was cut and Clark closed his phone and returned it to his pocket.

The conversation with Pete had been good, but incomplete. There was so much to say, so much to reveal, so much he wanted to know about Pete's new life. Just… so much unsaid-- too much.

In the wake of the call Clark began to feel a growing frustration. He felt wired and restless, and began pacing the loft as if waiting for news of his own impending execution.

Images of Alicia; Pete; the stones of power; the Kawatche caves; quitting football; Lois; his Kryptonian background and even Lana and Jason, and all of the emotions they were invoking were driving him around in nauseating circles across the floor.

He needed to do something. He needed to run.

--S--

It was after Midnight when Lois brought her father's silver, GMC Envoy to a stop outside the Kent farmhouse. Inside the lights appeared off and she wondered if Clark was already sleeping.

She and Chloe had enjoyed a fun evening of movie watching, fast food, music and good conversation. They'd drooled over Brad Pitt and Eric Bana in "Troy". And while Chloe had been licking her lips whenever Orlando Bloom appeared, Lois would throw popcorn at the TV and declare, "He's a girl in a man's body, Chlo."

They'd gone on to scream and laugh their way through "Cabin Fever," a grisly horror film about a group of college graduates who rent a cabin in the woods and begin to fall victim to a horrifying flesh-eating virus.

Before the night was over they decided to pop in another DVD, something to take their minds off the grisly, flesh eaten victims of "Cabin Fever." Lois selected "Pirates of the Caribbean," but Chloe kept complaining whenever she fast-forwarded to Johnny Depp and his hysterical turn as Captain Jack Sparrow.

"What about Orlando?" Chloe had groused, throwing kernels of popcorn at her cousin.

"Hey, we watched 'Troy' didn't we, what more do you want?" Lois had answered smugly, fast-forwarding the remote control with one hand, while tossing pizza crust from her plate back at Chloe with the other.

Entering the warm, but quiet house Lois couldn't see the usual outline of Clark's large frame sleeping amongst the couch cushions. Flicking on the lights she then shrugged out of her jacket to hang it up by the door before moving through the living room into the kitchen to stare out of its window, looking for signs of Smallville brooding away in his loft.

No light shone back from the barn either and now she was intrigued.

"Smallville?" she called out, heading up the stairs. She certainly hoped he wasn't stupid enough to have fallen asleep in her bed--okay, technically, his bed. She opened the bedroom door with a flourish, but again, no sign of Clark, just the mess she'd left behind earlier.

This was getting weird.

"Hey, Clark?"

She checked Mr and Mrs. Kent's bedroom and found it as neat and tidy as she could have expected.

Heading back downstairs, Lois stopped in the kitchen and pulled a flashlight out from underneath the sink cabinet. She quickly tested the appliance was working before setting out for the barn.

He wasn't there either.

"This is just getting stupid," Lois muttered to herself, as she stood at the top of the stairs leading from the loft. Tucking the flashlight, which she no longer needed anyway, under her arm, she pulled her cell phone out from the back pocket of her jeans and pressed Clark's number on her speed-dial list.

The call went straight through to his voice-mail.

Disconnecting the call and trying again, she was met with the same response, Clark's simple, "Hi. You've reached Clark Kent. Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can." She left a quick message to call her back and then hung-up again.

Lois considered calling Chloe for about five-seconds before dismissing the idea. If Clark had shown up at Chloe's--however late--Chloe would have called her already to let her know.

And if he weren't there, Chloe would start to worry and freak out about what might have happened to him. And what kid needed that kind of stress on a school night?

Lois considered the options; Clark was not into nightlife, as far as she could tell, and had probably never even been to a nightclub before. He didn't drink so hangin' with the seniors after football practise while they chugged down pilfered beer didn't jibe either. She was pretty sure he'd want to stay off his Mom and Dad's radar, especially while they enjoyed a couple of nights away from home as part of Mr. Kent's Valentine surprise, so there was no way he'd gone anywhere near them or even called.

He and Lana, his ex-girlfriend, seemed to have moved from whatever it was that they'd shared when they were together, to being friends again without much trouble, and considering Lana was now seeing Jason, what reason would Clark have to hang around with the newly established couple?

Lois threw the flashlight on the couch and stood in the centre of the loft space, hands on hips, and a scowl on her face trying to make sense of the non-evidence before her.

"What else," she muttered, pacing. Frustrated with herself for being so dismissive of Clark whenever he was around and not paying enough attention to know him well enough to figure out what he was up to, or where he might be.

She knew he'd taken Alicia's death pretty hard, and while she'd be the first to admit that the workings Clark Kent's mind were a mystery to her, she had noticed that he had a habit of blaming himself for everything that seemingly went wrong with his friends lives, even when, as far as she was concerned, blame and responsibility clearly lay with others.

Lois finally sat herself on the edge of the small couch and leaned forward to leaf threw the assortment papers and drawings Clark had left littered across the small wooden trunk, which sat adjacent and served as a table/footrest. Calculus homework, a history paper on "The American West - 1860-90," a worn paperback copy of "Mark Twain's Short Stories," and several sheets of paper depicting a number of crude drawings and symbols.

Nothing stood out, but one of the drawings looked familiar so she studied it for a few seconds.

"Whatever," she sighed, putting it aside again. She leafed through some of the other pencilled drawings, wondering what it was about them that clearly must have Clark intrigued. She turned the images this way and that, trying to decipher anything she could from them. She returned to the image she thought she recognised and tried to place it.

Okay, all this stuff is about those caves, that's a given, she thought, still staring at the images. Her own experience of the caves had been waking up there along side her cousin Chloe, and Lana, dressed in thigh-high patent leather boots, a low cut, black mid-thigh dress, a neck collar and wearing more make-up than she'd ever be comfortable applying on her own.

They'd looked like high school Halloween hookers (as she'd later described it to Chloe), and if they had been prowling the relatively quiet streets of Smallville in those outfits, trick or treating, they would have found themselves up on charges of under-age prostitution if Sheriff Adams had gotten a hold of them, that's for damned sure.

Weirdly enough, or maybe not when you considered the town, Clark had been there too, and he'd been the one to explain that they'd been possessed by three 17th Century witches.

Well, of course they had. This was Smallville after all.

Lois tried to remember what Chloe had told her about the caves; they were Native American in origin and filled with ancient pictograms describing their history or something. Clark had apparently discovered the caves while out motor crossing with a friend on their bikes and had fallen through some loose earth and found himself tumbling into the caves.

She couldn't see the appeal but clearly these caves must mean something to Smallville, the drawings and notes he'd scribbled had too much detail for a simple school paper or an article for the Torch.

Lois cast her mind back a few months, trying to remember the route on that cramped drive back to the Kent farm from the caves. She, Chloe and Lana had all somehow managed to squeeze into the passenger seat of the Kent's truck as Clark had driven them home that strange morning. After the initial embarrassed silence they'd all began to bombard Clark with questions, what were they doing at the caves? What happened to Chloe's party? Why did he have a shotgun with him? Did they hurt anyone? How did they even get to the caves?

Poor Clark, she remembered, he'd given them all one of his patented blank stares and said he didn't know much either, just woke up on the cave floor with the rest of them.

Miller's Bend!

There it was it had popped right in there. The location of the Kawatche caves (wow, and so had that) was at Miller's Bend.

She didn't know how she knew, but suddenly Lois was absolutely sure Clark was at the caves.

Grabbing the flashlight from the couch Lois ran down the stairs, sprinted out of the barn and across the wet ground into the house, briefly stopping to collect her jacket and car keys.

--S--

Clark stared up at the two-headed image of Naman and Sageeth painted onto the cave's wall. He'd lost track of the number of times the words of Kyla and Professor Willowbrook had repeated in his head about destiny and prophecy.

How could he be Naman? He wasn't strong enough or smart enough to save Alicia, how could he possibly be the saviour of an entire people?

Clark took his time gazing over the various paintings and symbols in the wall around him. His frustration from earlier had not subsided as he failed to be soothed by the prospect of a future he didn't believe could be his.

Clark walked into the open antechamber to stare at the single Kryptonian stone of power. The crystal sat in one corner of a diamond shaped relief meant to house two additional stones or crystals, one representing air and the other, water.

He'd been close to recovering the stone representing water. He had touched it and had his conscious mind had transferred into Lionel Luthor's because of it.

In the melee that followed Lionel and Clark's mind reversal, the stone had been lost once more, and Clark had no idea how to find these remaining stones or what might really happen if all three were ever joined.

The sort of power Jor-El had promised him by uniting the crystals sat uneasily with him, and he wasn't convinced he could or should follow this man blindly, even if he claimed to be the biological essence of his Kryptonian father.

What kind of a life was he supposed to have with so much uncertainty wrapped around him?

Was life supposed to be this--?

"Ow! Crap!"

Spinning towards the sound, Clark heard the heavy slide of earth and stones and then another cry of pain. He rushed to the direction of the person in distress, wondering why anyone would venture here so late at night.

Moving quickly and using his enhanced vision he saw the faint outline of a flashlight light from a nearby cave. He slowed when he heard more cursing and muttering.

"Youbetter be down here, Smallville."

What in the world--

"Lois, what the heck are you doing down here?" he practically shouted as he caught sight of her.

She was leaning against a cave wall, massaging her right ankle and wincing in pain. Her heeled boots and jeans were flecked and dirty from the damp earth outside the caves. Her hair, face and the short, green, parker style jacket she favoured were streaked with dust and dirt from inside the caves.

Did she always have to look so… gorgeous?

Despite his shock at seeing her, he couldn't help reacting to the way she looked in the semi-darkness

The pained wince she wore instantly changed to one of relief when she looked up and saw him. Ignoring his distraught question completely, Lois let go of her injured foot and pushed her self off of the dusty wall.

"Smallville, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"Me?" Clark took in her dishevelled appearance and the practically dead flashlight that she picked up from the cavern floor. "Your ankle," he stated pointing to it as she limped towards him.

"I'm fine," she quickly dismissed, closing the distance between them. "What about you? You don't leave a message, you don't answer my calls, what are you running away from down here?"

Even though the light from her touch was dim at best, Clark was momentarily taken aback by the concern he saw on Lois' face.

"I… " He didn't have a clue how to respond.

"Do you have a flashlight? The battery's about to die on this one, and I don't do too well with having to navigate in the dark," Lois quipped, searching his hands with her eyes for said flashlight.

"Here, I got you." Clark reached out and swept Lois up into his arms, carrying her back towards the tunnel he'd vacated when he heard her noisy entrance.

"What the hell are you doing?" Lois sputtered in annoyance as Clark carried her easily through the connecting caves.

"Lois, your flashlight is about to go out. I know my way back from here and you twisted your ankle. It's easier for me to carry you, than for you to stumble around in the dark behind me and maybe end up hurting yourself further, okay?" he answered, as if lecturing a small child on the benefits of looking both ways before crossing the sidewalk.

"You shouldn't be wearing heels in here anyway," Clark went on.

Lois hated that she liked how strong he was. He'd used his strength sparingly in front of her, but it always gave her a little thrill to see it or feel it in action. Attempting to dampen her reaction to him she snorted derisively into his neck.

"Well I remember waking up in this place wearing six-inch spike heels and barely any clothes. Why would I think I needed special footwear now?"

--S--

Clark placed Lois gently down on the cold cave floor. The chamber containing the stone alter had remained open and its light filtered out into the cavern, illuminating the area with a warm orange glow.

Lois made herself as comfortable as possible, adjusting her back against the wall of the cave before carefully sliding her boot off of her right leg. Casting the boot aside she brought her foot up into her lap, pulled her sock down over her heel and studied her ankle. Satisfied that she probably had only sprained it she glanced up at Clark. His back was to her, and she could tell his hands were buried deeply into the front pockets of jeans.

She looked over the cave they were in, noticing the ancient Kawatche symbols and drawings littered over the surface of the walls. She had a vague memory of being inside the antechamber, where the light was coming from, but she still didn't get Clark's fascination with the place.

"So, what's going on with you, Clark? What are you trying to run away from?" she asked quietly.

"I'm not…" Clark breathed out a heavy sigh, but didn't turn around.

Lois noticed the little shake of his head and how his shoulders seemed to sag.

"I know Alicia's death was hard on you, but you can't blame yourself for that. Tim was the psycho that killed her, not you," she offered tentatively.

"I know," Clark mumbled. "It doesn't make me feel any better."

Lois slowly pushed herself up the wall and took a hesitant step towards Clark's stooped frame. "It's not supposed to," she said slowly, awkwardly circling Clark to stand in front of him.

"Alicia accepted me," he added dejectedly. "And I betrayed her."

"What do you mean?" she pressed gently.

"I didn't believe her. I didn't believe she was innocent. I went to Sheriff Adams when I found her scarf, after Jason was attacked. It's my fault," his voice cracked with emotion.

"Clark, she was set-up. We all thought Alicia was responsible for those attacks, because that's what we were meant to think. You'd have to been a saint not to have suspected her."

Lois shifted her weight off of her injured foot to give it a little respite from the cold earth, and rested her hands on her hips, giving Clark an apprising stare.

"And what do you mean she 'accepted' you?" Lois questioned hotly. "See, this is where you need to lay off on the pity parties, Smallville. Everyone thinks you're this great guy, with this wonderful future ahead of you."

Clark's eyebrows shot up into his dark fringe and he stared back at Lois, his nostrils flaring in offence.

"Now, I'm not saying that you don't," she continued, tempering her statement slightly to mollify his expression. "And I don't mean to speak ill of the dead, but wasn't Alicia the one who dosed you up with some substance she knew you were allergic to, just so she could get you to marry her in Vegas?"

His expression grew darker, but he didn't deny the charge.

Emboldened to go further, Lois didn't hesitate. "I know you see yourself as this outsider with the weight of the world on his shoulders, but what I see is this weird dichotomy; a wannabe jock, who's a little shy sometimes and yet can be so confident and self-assured; a guy who thinks it's his responsibility to save everyone around him when bad things happen, even if it's their own fault. He likes to standout, and he is different, because he cares so much.

"But then there's this other guy, the one who … whines and complains and sits alone in his barn because he 'doesn't fit in', and says things like all I really wants… is … is to be accepted."

"You say it all like it's a crime," he said tightly, not denying her accusations.

"To be accepted?" she asked.

Clark gave her a curt nod.

"No, Clark, it's not a crime to be accepted, but don't you see, you have to accept yourself first, and I … don't think that you do," she finished softly.

He turned away from her, his eyes unreadable as they slowly scanned the walls around them.

"Maybe… maybe I don't think I can live up to other people's expectations of me," he declared after a long pause. "What if I can't be who they think I am, or who they think I'm going to become?"

Lois followed Clark's gaze towards the light filled antechamber. "I guess most kids worry about disappointing their parents."

"Do you?" he asked, turning to meet her surprised stare.

She drew in her bottom lip with her teeth and frowned up at Clark before diverting her gaze to her feet. She nodded without looking up, suddenly fascinated with the fact that she was only wearing one boot.

"Yeah," she breathed at length. "Sure." Hobbling back a few steps to the safety of the wall, Lois eased herself back down to the ground.

Clark followed her down to the dirt, sitting crossed-legged in front of her; he gently lifted Lois' injured foot into his lap.

"What are you doing?" Lois asked, giving him an annoyed scowl.

"What does it look like?" he replied, removing her sock and turning her ankle over gently to check for bruising. "Your foot's freezing," he stated, as he began to gently knead the tender flesh of Lois' ankle.

"Of course it's freezing, it's freaking cold in here, Smallville, and all you're wearing is that thin jacket."

Clark merely smiled at her and shrugged. "Tell me about your dad," he requested in a hush, continuing the gentle massage.

"You've met him," she declared, as if that explained everything.

Lois couldn't stop staring at the thick fingers of Clark's frying pan sized hands. How could hands that she knew were so strong, also be so soft and deliver such a tender touch?

"Meeting him isn't the same as knowing him, Lois," he smiled.

Leaning her head back against the rough stone Lois closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on her father, and not the large hands that she wanted to reach out to.

Because that would be stupid, Lois.

"He spent the night at the hospital with me," Lois offered quietly. "You know, with the temporary paralysis … that whole Geoff Johns thing."

"He did?" Clark was surprised to hear that. Lois hardly ever talked about her father or family, and when she did it wasn't always in the positive.

She nodded, her eyes still closed. "Chloe called him at Fort Ryan."

"That's great, Lois. I guess he was relieved to see you, huh?" he encouraged.

"Yeah," she agreed, opening her eyes to find Clark's blue-green eyes locked with her own. He offered her a tentative smile and a slightly expectant nod for her to continue.

"He was happy to see me. It was kind of funny too, you know, 'cause he gave me this whole lecture on the evils of underage drinking and the dangers of college boys who think they're men," she rambled on, her fingers playing in the dirt at her side. "And of course the whole time he's going on and basically reprimanding me, I pretty much just have to lay there and take it, you know, 'cause I can barely talk, and I still can't move at that point."

Somewhere, in the middle of her confession, Clark had managed to remove Lois' other boot and sock and began massaging her left ankle. With her focus elsewhere she barely noticed.

"But it was sweet too, you know, 'cause I could feel him holding my hand and then later, before he left for the base, I felt him kiss me, right here," she said, pointing to her temple with her index finger. Her little grin turned to a frown and she averted her gaze from his to cast her eyes around the cavern.

It always made his heart twist and ache for her whenever Lois allowed him to see beyond the lead doors she preferred to have up around her heart.

"What's the fascination with this place anyway?" she asked, abruptly swinging the focus back to her companion.

It was now Clark's turn to look uncomfortable as he glanced towards the antechamber.

"I guess… coming here makes me wonder about my place in the world," he said honestly.

"Smallville," Lois gave a disappointed moan and used the foot he still held to shove lightly against his stomach. "Why does everything have to be so serious for you?"

"Lois," he began, but she interrupted him.

"Listen, Clark, you don't have to feel responsible for every little thing that happens in this town. You're not some guy who fell out of the sky one day with superior abilities, okay? You're just a guy from a small town who studies calculus by day and drives a tractor by… before sundown, and there's nothing wrong with that."

Despite the situation, Clark found himself grinning broadly. "Umm… Lois."

"You're honest, you're kind, you're innately good, you have integrity, you're generous, and you're moderately good looking in a small town kind of way, of course," she finished quickly.

"You think all that about me?" Clark asked, genuinely surprised by Lois' appraisal.

"And you'll never repeat it, if you want to live," Lois threatened sweetly.

"Hmm."

"So, what I'm saying is stop worrying about what other people think of you, because you can't control that. Do you know how many times I've disappointed the General?"

Clark began to shake his head.

"That was rhetorical." The barb was too easy to resist and Clark rolled his eyes.

"I've tried to stop worrying about being the weak link in his chain of command, and do you know why?"

Clark kept his mouth shut and his expression as impassive as he dared.

Lois smirked. "Because the only person you should ever be worried about disappointing is yourself."

Clark seemed to think about that for a few moments, his eyes searching and finding a kindred spirit staring back at him from behind her dark olive coloured eyes.

Lois knew what it was like to be the child of a powerful father. In the short time he'd know her it had become clear to Clark that Lois had had to learn fast growing up. She'd lived out of suitcases, following her father around the globe, while he worked tirelessly in the defence of his nation.

But such devotion to his country didn't leave a lot of time for his little girl.

"I haven't learned to be as strong as you, Lois," Clark whispered across the small space between them. His fingers still tucked inside the material of her jeans as he absently stroked at the skin above her ankle.

His touch was distracting her again and she tried to focus on some other part of Clark that was less appealing than his large, soft hands or the way his voice sounded when he lowered it to speak.

Her gaze found its way to his mouth, her head leaning in and following her gaze. She moistened her lips in order to affect a reply. "You're the strong one, Smallville," she breathed out.

"I'm not talking about lifting bails of hay."

"Oh?"

He couldn't help himself and he reached out to caress her jaw. Lois' eyes startled for a second at the move, but then she gave him a slow smile, gently biting at her bottom lip and leaning her head to the side in encouragement.

He used the back of his fingers to brush at her cheek. Lois' skin felt warm and soft and he felt small tremors of pleasure in his fingertips when he drew them over her chin.

Lois pulled her left leg from Clark's lap and mirrored his position by crossing her legs and scooting closer towards him so that their knees were touching. Leaning in, she reached out and began running both hands inside Clark's open blue jacket. As her fingers made their exploration, the red tee shirt he wore under his jacket was no barrier against the firmness of his chest and abdominal muscles.

She grinned openly as her hands enjoyed the hard sculpted body beneath her touch.

Clark closed his eyes; his breath hitching as his body reacted to Lois' short nails raking against the material of his shirt, his chest heaving and expanding to meet each new pass.

When he managed to open his eyes again, he found Lois' jade coloured peepers piercing him lasciviously.

"Your eyes, are they blue-green or blue-grey?" Lois asked, her voice thick with desire.

Blinking and gulping Clark muttered a garbled string of words.

"Yeah," Lois agreed, "I want to kiss you too."

Rising onto her knees, the twinge in her ankle long forgotten, Lois ran both hands up and over Clark's thighs, the action stirring him to close the distance between them. He moved to his knees, placing his hands around Lois' waist to steady her balance while she swayed against him.

Slowly she leaned up and in, touching first the tip of her tongue against Clark's bottom lip, quickly followed by a tender kiss to the same spot. She repeated the kiss twice more until Clark moaned aloud returning her soft caresses. Lois deepened her kisses, her tongue probing gently against Clark's lips, pushing against his teeth until she could touch her tongue to his.

Lois anchored her hands at the nape of Clark's neck, her fingers roughly caressing his scalp as they mewled against each other, their kisses setting each other aflame with sensation and a craving to touch. Clark's fingers gripped tightly onto Lois' waist, not knowing what else to do with them.

The kissing went on until Clark pulled back, panting with excitement but confused by the ache he was feeling in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that made his groin pulse with a yearning he didn't know how to fulfil.

"Lois," he whispered anxiously.

"What?" Her eyes never left his swollen, parted lips and her fingers were still buried in his thick hair.

"We can't," he shook his head. "It's wrong, right?"

Lois pulled her face back from Clark's slightly, her eyes searching out the doubt in his.

"Sometimes," she panted, touching a finger to his mouth. "Wrong is the right thing to do."

Clark shook his head again. "But what if I…?" he stuttered nervously.

"Shh," Lois soothed with a kiss to his chin.

"I don't know how…" He had to try and make her understand before he gave in to her completely, but the way she was scattering kisses across his face and neck….

"It's okay."

"Lois, I'm a virgin," Clark bashfully admitted. His face was flushed with embarrassment and he turned his head away from her to hide it.

Lois placed a single finger under Clark's chin and gently coaxed his face back to hers.

"Right about now, I'm wishing I could say the same," she smiled up at him warmly. "I wish I could give you mine… I wish I'd waited for someone like you," she said regretfully.

"You're virginity's a beautiful gift, Clark, and if you're willing to offer me yours, I promise you, you won't ever regret it," Lois declared softly.

The sensual sound of Lois' assurance was almost enough to assuage his doubts, almost. "I might hurt you," Clark tried to explain in a desperate murmur.

"You won't hurt me, Smallville," Lois teased confidently, running her hands under and up the inside his red tee shirt.

Lois seduced him slowly and with whispering kisses, licks and nips. She helped him divest himself of shirt and jacket, and she ran her hands appreciatively across his broad chest, pinching his nipples lightly. Liking the hoarse groan he made when she did it, she repeated the action.

She guided Clark's hands towards the zipper in her jacket and watched him intently as he pulled it down, opening it up to reveal her tight yellow tee shirt underneath.

He smiled, noticing the gap between her shirt and her jeans, openly enjoying the smooth expanse of her stomach as it was exposed to him. He grazed the flat of his fingers there, touching her shyly at first and then with greater intent as her shirt rode up against his hand.

Lois guided him, helping him to lift the shirt up and off of her body, revealing a cotton and lace yellow bra underneath. They both grinned giddily as new skin and sensations were making themselves known to the other.

Reaching up, Lois undid her ponytail, shaking her hair loose and letting it fall around her shoulders.

Clark drew in a breath, shocked by how such a simple act could make him feel as if a huge electrical current had been connected directly to his groin.

"You're gorgeous," he whispered thickly, pulling Lois flush against his chest, burying his hands in her wild auburn locks and kissing her passionately.

There was no denying the strength of Clark's arousal; Lois could feel it, warm and alive, pressed against her stomach as she nibbled across his collarbone while Clark's head was buried against the hair at her neck.

Their gentle exploration continued, with Lois guiding and encouraging and Clark, cautious, tentative, shy, but becoming bolder and more confident as he began to equate Lois' sighs and moans of pleasure with the sensations she was clearly enjoying.

Clarks fingers found their way to the button and zipper of Lois' jeans, but when his thick fingers could do no more than rub hesitantly against her, Lois' own fingers joined his, undoing the top button and sliding the zipper down for him. Wiggling away from him briefly to get her pants off, Lois stood before Clark, now only sporting a matching yellow bra and panty set.

Clark stood slowly and placed his discarded tee shirt and jacket neatly on the floor of the cave, adding Lois' tee and her warm jacket to the pile.

It was a crude attempt at a mattress, but Lois appreciated the gesture.

"Farm boy's are versatile," she smirked as Clark stood up. She stepped into his arms and kissed him playfully, letting her nails scrabble at his back and shoulders just to hear him groan lustfully again.

His purring gave impetus to her cause and she sensuously moved her hands to his chest and then moved lower, unbuckling his belt and then popping the top button on his jeans. Pushing the zipper down and sliding his pants off of his hips, Lois assumed gravity would do the rest, but his jeans stalled and she had to use a little extra force to clear the heavy material over Clark's erection.

She touched it lightly through his boxers and Clark whimpered and bucked into her hand when she stroked him. Lois laved at one of his nipples with her tongue and she heard his hiss of pleasure. "Touch me, Smallville," she encouraged.

Clark caressed her bottom through the cotton and lace of her underwear, he ran his fingers up her spine and used the flat of his hand to tease at her breasts, still encased behind their sun coloured jailor.

Lois took his hand and guided Clark down with her to the floor of the cavern and the makeshift pile of clothes he'd thoughtfully assembled.

They lay side by side staring at each other, smiling shyly, touching eagerly. Clark cautiously touched his fingers to Lois' shoulder and the thin strap of her brassiere, he seemed mesmerised by it and it took Lois' guiding fingers on top of his to finally push it from her shoulder to hang loosely against her arm. She sat up and helped him repeat the process with the strap on her other shoulder.

Clark swallowed nervously, his throat was dry and he licked at lips that felt parched. His eyes flicked from Lois' to the scraps of material that still separated her generous bosom from his gaze. He could see the hardened peaks of her nipples through the cotton and lace, the chill in the caves perhaps partially responsible for the erected buds.

Unable to resist any longer, Clark bent his head to lave at a breast through the material. He sucked at the bud and nipped at it gently, Lois' sighs, moans and the way she gripped at his head, anchoring him in position only encouraged him to offer its twin the same attention and his fingers quickly joined in on the act, fumbling at her back to unclasp the hooks so that he could enjoy her unfettered.

--S--

The sounds of Lois and Clark's enthusiastic lovemaking reverberated around the ancient cavern. High above the erotically occupied couple the image of Naman, the prophesised protector of the Kawatche, and that of Naman's soul mate began to pulse and glow in colours of red, yellow and blue.

The light source, pouring from the cavern's antechamber dimmed and brightened and voices in low tones began to whisper, barely registering with the occupants who remained enthusiastically engaged on the floor.

"It is too soon. They are not yet ready."

Clark was kissing his way up one of Lois' long, toned legs, from her previously sore ankle to the tops of her thighs.

"She is his mate, my love. What will it matter that they find each other now?"

Lois had now reversed their positions and was leaning over Clark's naked thighs, her mouth and hands pleasuring the erection that jutted up from between his spread legs.

"There is no balance yet, for either of them..."

Clark's toes curled in ecstasy from her ministrations, though he feared he might orgasm too soon if Lois didn't ease up on the exquisite torture she was inflicting.

"…They have yet to be set upon their life's true path."

Lois licked the tip of his penis before quickly moving to straddle Clark. Resting her right hand on his shoulder, she used her left to guide his erection to the lips of her damp vagina.

"Finding each other is not enough?"

"No, my beloved, Lara, it is not enough."

Slowly, slowly Lois mounted Clark's stiff penis, lowering herself inch by inch onto the appendage that she could only describe in comparison to his long, thick fingers.

"They are both so lonely, so heart sore. Can't we let them comfort each other?"

Afraid to match the pace Lois was setting, Clark thrust gently up into her, still afraid he might hurt her, but she was having none of his platitudes, giving a sensuous twist of her hips to stir him to further action.

"In time, Lara. In time."

Clark gasped aloud at the intensely erotic sensation of Lois gyrating above him. Her moves sent him beyond anything he could have imagined possible, and he threw his head back, nearly blasting chunks out of the rock above them with the heat that shot from his eyes.

"Lois!" he screamed, pouring himself into her as he climaxed abruptly.

"Smallville, yes," Lois hissed into his neck, holding on to Clark fiercely while he shuddered below her, his tremors triggering her orgasm moments after his.

They clung together, chests heaving, skin sweaty and slick. Clark murmured happily into Lois' ear, "Is it too soon to ask you to marry me?"

"Highlight of your life, huh?" Lois attempted to laugh, but the vibration of her chuckles only impaled her a little more deeply on to Clark's still erect penis and she let out a contented whimper instead. "Ask me that again in five minutes," she managed with a satisfied sigh.

In their contented exhaustion they knew nothing of the brilliant white light that enveloped them and transported them through time and space, re-writing all of their histories over the past four days and depositing them among the familiar and the routine.

"We shall erase this night and their memories, bringing another into their lives at this point."

"And will they remain connected, my husband?"

"Always, my love."

--S--

Monday, 14th February 2005

Lois stared out onto the dark, wet road, one hand on the steering wheel of her father's silver GMC Envoy and the other with her cell phone pressed against her ear as she listened to the sound of her cousin's message while her call went through to her voicemail.

She'd spent the better part of the evening clearing out all of her personal belongings from her former room at Met U. and hadn't realised quite how late it was.

"Hi Chlo, it's Lo," she said cheerfully into the phone. "I'm officially out of the dorm and on my way back to the Kent's, but I realised I'm still getting my mail at your place. Can you bring it by in the morning? Okay. Thanks, bye."

Taking her eyes off the road for a moment to set her phone down into the passenger seat she didn't see the dog pounce out of nowhere and directly into her car's path.

She gave a shriek, but there as no time to slow down and avoid hitting the animal. Panic and fear gripped her as she slammed on the brakes.

Fearing the worst she glanced up and into her rear view mirror. Whipping her head around she looked out over the backseat of the car and the injured dog lying on its side in the road.

"Oh, my God. What have I done?" Lois unbuckled her safety belt and exited the car as quickly as she could. She ran towards the dog and took in its appearance.

The red Labrador didn't look too good. It lay on it's side and whimpered as the rain beat down around them. The dog's eyes were open. Was that a good sign, she wondered?

"I didn't see you okay," she babbled helplessly at the dog. "We're gonna get you out of here."

As gently as she could Lois placed her arms under its flanks and picked up the injured dog, carrying him back to her car.

"Okay. You're gonna be fine."

The dog whined pitifully in her arms, but that didn't dissuade her from attempting to comfort the animal.

"I know you're gonna be fine," she continued, "Everyone I've ever hit was all right."

As she reached for the handle of her car door Lois was overcome with the need to sneeze.

--S--

In the depths of the Kawatche cave system a hidden doorway within the rock closed unaided. Beyond this wall two entities communicated in an alien language long dead to all but a few.

"My powers are not unlimited, Lara. What I have achieved for them this night cannot be repeated to such an extent. And if I must undertake such a radical course of action again, it must be at Kal-El's request."

"My heart aches for my son, Jor-El… and my daughter."

"Lois Lane will become Kale-El's strength and his shield, but there is still much for them to discover about themselves before they can rediscover each other. Have faith, my love."

End.

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