A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews to date, which have been really encouraging! I would have like to edit this chapter further but then it would be another couple of days before I'd upload, due to my crazy busy work life and with mother day this Sunday.

If I get some of the football terminology wrong you'll have to overlook it a bit. I'm an Australian and don't follow American football at all. I had to do some research on line for this chapter to get my head around it. But I have to admit that the actor who played Clark Kent is built like an Australian Football full forward, sigh. Okay, I'll stop fangirling there :)

Enjoy!

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Chapter 2.

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After one week, every muscle in his body hurt. But in a good way. He was sleeping a lot better too. No more nightmares. His dreams often involved him having his powers again. Running so fast he could feel the force of gravity as a real tangible being. He'd never felt so free, and also alone, searching for answers he could never find.

Reality, on the other hand, he could barely run two miles without dying afterwards.

The punching bag proved useful. It was a handy distraction to take his mind of eating. Even Lois was slightly tolerable now, when she wasn't dishing out orders like a drill sergeant. She liked to talk. It unnerved him whenever she went quiet, which was seldom.

She approached things with a single minded determination, him along with it.

They were boxing that morning, not something he really relished. She was doing most of the hitting. He was constantly defending.

"C'mon, Smallville, my younger sister hits harder than you."

"I don't want to hurt you."

She snorted, then laughed. "Don't worry about me."

"But you're a girl," he protested.

She landed a swift one in his stomach, winding him. He bent over, glaring up at her.

"Still think I'm a mere girl," she taunted.

Sometimes he had to wonder. "Okay so you're a boy that happens to look like a girl."

She tossed her head back. "No, I'm all girl."

A scowl crossed his face. "You're not really … like other girls, Lois."

She grinned. "I guess that happens when you have a General for a father."

That explained some things. A lot of things actually. He gingerly rubbed his stomach.

"C'mon tubby, give it your best shot."

He gritted his teeth. Right, that did it. He wasn't playing Mr Nice guy anymore. Straightening up, he began hitting back, going on the offensive, forcing her back. It felt sort of good, maybe there was something to this boxing after all. For a few minutes they were evenly matched. He had height to his advantage, but she was fast and quick on her feet.

"Where did you learn to fight like this?" he grunted, as he tried once again to get through her defence.

"I grew up with a lot of Army brats, and moved around a lot. You learn to hold your own."

She certainly had. He saw the blow coming, and blocked it.

She stepped back, a look of approval crossing her face. "Much better, Smallville. You are going to need to toughen up if you ever hope to be a line-backer."

He still had his doubts about it.

She had him pushing up weights with a bar bell next, another Lois addition to the barn.

"So your dad was a general huh?" he muttered as he pushed up the bar bell.

She leant over him, putting her hands on the bar, adding to the weight.

"Yeah."

Her ponytail swung over her shoulder, tickling his nose.

"Can't half tell," he returned, pushing up and her with it. "Is that how you ended up so bossy?"

She let go and turned away, but he could almost swear he'd seen a glimpse of sadness in her eyes. It made him curious. Putting the bar back in place, he sat up.

"After my mom died when I was six, he pretty much made me step up and take charge of running the house, sorting out my younger sister, keeping her in line."

Picking up a water bottle she took a swig.

He didn't know her mother had died. She tended to talk about trivial stuff, the colour of her underwear, making him blush. She seemed to like to do that. She talked about the times she was in trouble, which was a lot. Her endless escapades, but seldom anything of a personal matter. Seeing the brief glimpse of vulnerability in her eyes was a first.

"That must have been tough?" he murmured.

She shrugged. "I survived."

It explained her no nonsense, take charge attitude and the bossiness. She had a tough outer shell. And for a moment she intrigued him. She really wasn't like anyone he'd ever encountered before.

A low grumble broke the silence. She raised an eyebrow.

"Is that your stomach or mine, Smallville?"

"Definitely yours."

She was the skinny one after all.

A sheepish look crossed her face. "I kind of missed breakfast, was running late to get here."

His curiosity increased. He couldn't figure her out.

"Why are you training me?"

She took another swig of her water bottle, before her eyes rested on him. "Chloe thinks you're the best thing since slice bread."

A frown dented his forehead. He still didn't get it. Chloe wasn't even remotely interested in football. She hated the whole, what she called, superficiality of the stereotypical jock and cheerleader.

"You're her best friend," she shrugged. "Besides I thrive on a challenge, and getting you fit is definitely …" she smiled in that annoying way, "a challenge."

She was also the most perplexing girl it had been his misfortune to meet, but he was still confused.

"Chloe's not into football."

"Yeah, but she's into you."

His frown deepened, just where was Lois going with this?

"There was a time back in our freshman year when I took her to the Spring Formal, and we kind of almost kissed, but then she told me she just wanted to be friends."

Lois rolled her eyes and plonked herself next to him on the bench press. "And you didn't happen to like Lana Lang at that time too?"

His face reddened slightly, she had hit the nail on the head.

"Case resolved."

He sighed in annoyance, shaking his head.

"Look, I don't know what you see in the little skinny cheer leader," she continued with a dismissive wave of her hand, "I guess she's pretty in a sweet, icky vanilla kind of way, but when has she ever looked twice at you, Clark?"

He began to squirm. "It's not as if I'm anything much to look at, Lois."

Lois hands came to rest on her hips, a steely glint in her eyes.

"It's not the outside that counts, Smallville, but the inside."

She surprised him. It was the last thing he'd expected her to say. Then she stabbed a finger in his chest.

"You'd pay to remember that."

Right, as if she could talk. "You said I was boring, Lois," he pointed out, "A straight, goody two shoes student, and the list goes on, and those are the inside things."

"I'm not talking about what I see in you, Clark! I'm talking about …" her voice broke off there, and she bit down on her lip.

Crap, but she had almost slipped up.

"Forget it, if you're too dumb to see it then there is no point in me trying to make you."

Her stomach growled again.

"You should stay for breakfast," he offered.

She'd just reamed him out, and he still asked her to stay. He was … he was, not like any other guy she had ever known.

"Clark," she began, "I just insulted you."

"I thought you were just being your normal self, Lois," he quipped, with a half-smile hovering on his lips.

Cute, was the only word that came to mind, nice lips.

She shook her head to clear it. She must be really sleep deprived to think that!

"Okay, I'm starving, let's go have breakfast."

They trudged back up to the farm.

"Is your mom making waffles?" she asked, hopefully.

"I doubt it," he grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Slim pickings in our house these days."

He didn't sound happy about it, she smiled to herself.

"No thanks to you," he continued.

"I'm just looking out for you, Smallville."

He glanced sideways at her. "I thought you said the outside didn't matter," he returned.

Trust him to throw her words back in her face. But in a strange way she sort of liked it.

"But it obviously matters to a certain insipid cheerleader," she couldn't help pointing out.

He rolled his eyes. "It might not you know."

She snorted. "C'mon, Clark, you don't have to look much further than the boyfriends she chooses."

Lois had a point, he acceded.

"We were friends in our freshman year," he continued.

It seemed so long ago now.

"Really? And you know ... never tried to make a move then, never tried to kiss her?" she teased.

His face flushed. "No."

She couldn't help teasing him, he was so … naïve, and innocent.

"Have you ever kissed a girl, Clark?"

There was silence. Suddenly stopping, she turned to face him in disbelief. "Wait! So you've never kissed a girl?"

He blushed. "I nearly kissed, Chloe."

She shook her head. "You're 18 …"

"17," he corrected.

Her eyes met directly with his. "That's kind of sad, Smallville."

"I want it be … with someone special."

She laughed. "It's just kissing, doesn't always have to mean much."

He blinked, an incredulous look crossing his face.

"I've kissed loads of boys," she shrugged, "And was never in love with them."

"So, you kissed a boy who you weren't even going out with?" he spluttered.

Anyone would think she'd committed the crime of the century, she mused.

"I'm not into the whole going steady thing."

He blinked, again. She rolled her eyes, he really was so … green.

"I like my independence," she continued.

"So why did you kiss them, then?"

"I felt like it at the time."

Smallville, really was so clueless, and a thought took hold. She was going in for shock factor.

"It's this easy, Clark."

Grabbing him by his coat collar, she pressed her lips against his. Hmm, not bad, he tasted like fresh minty toothpaste. His lips were soft, hesitant before he pulled back, a look of complete shock on his face.

"Now, you can say you've kissed a girl," she grinned. "I told you I was looking out for you, Smallville."

Turning on her heel, she continued walking, smiling to herself. She liked ruffling his feathers.

Clark stook there still in a state of shock. Had she really just done what he thought she had? She was the most perplexing … annoying … oddest girl he'd ever known.

"It was just a kiss, Clark," she said over her shoulder.

Making his legs move, he caught up with her.

"Are you always so … brazen," he muttered, matching his stride with hers.

She smiled up at him. "You didn't like it?"

His mouth opened, she was enjoying his discomfort. He could clearly see the amusement in her eyes.

"I don't know," he stammered.

It was too sudden and kind of brief, and it was Lois, annoyingly frustrating Lois. She had caught him totally unawares.

"You need to practice at it," she continued.

Colour crept into his cheeks.

"And I suppose that is with you," he snapped back.

Shrugging her shoulders, she smirked in that annoying way he hated.

"Oh, I could teach you a thing or two."

His face went a deeper shade of red, was she serious?

A grin broke out across her face. "Lighten up, Smallville." She punched him in the arm. "Besides you're not my type."

"You have a type?"

Grabbing him by his coat sleeve, she tugged him along.

"I can't picture it in my head, Lois. Because he'd have to be something else to put up with you."

If she could act so nonchalant about the kiss then so could he. Besides, it really wasn't that much of a kiss. She obviously, as usual, enjoyed teasing him.

Once inside, he grabbed the carton of juice from the fridge and poured them both a glass.

"Are you sure that its sugar free?"

Snatching the carton from him, she began reading it. He inwardly sighed. She was driving him crazy with this diet stuff. She was driving him crazy in general.

"I don't know, mom does the shopping."

She frowned. "This has a ton of sugar in it, Clark. You shouldn't be drinking it."

"Yes ma'am." He gave a mock salute and she scowled at him.

He watched her march into the lounge room. She appeared to be looking for something.

"What are you doing Lois?"

"I need paper and a pen," she returned over her shoulder.

"In the draw, on the right side of the desk."

No doubt, she was going to be writing another lengthy note to his mom about exactly what juice to buy, and what not to buy.

He placed the carton of juice back in the fridge.

Lois' eyes landed on the photo frame that stood upon the desk. She reached out a hand and picked it up. It was Clark, with what must be his father. He never talked about him.

"Hey Clark," she called.

He closed the fridge door and looked at her.

"Is this you?"

She held up the photo frame, and a slight frown dented his forehead.

"Yeah," he murmured. "With my dad."

She crossed the floor to where he stood, photo frame in hand.

"You were actually slim there," she said, but what surprised her the most was how happy he looked.

There was something different about him. She couldn't put her finger on it. Glancing up at him she noticed the shadows in his eyes, the sadness. It stirred something deep within her, it wasn't pity. She knew what it felt like to lose a parent. It was more a shared sympathy.

"I guess I was," he sighed.

What had happened to change that? But for once she shut her mouth, because she was beginning to come to the slow realization that it was the death of his father that had caused the drastic changes in him.

"Sorry," she murmured, "I didn't mean to pry."

Turning abruptly, she put the photo frame back on the desk, cursing her lack of tack.

"It's alright Lois," he spoke, "It was years ago."

How easily he read her thoughts. She shoved her hands in her pockets.

"Just I know what it's like; how much it hurts."

His eyes met hers, and there was a sudden warmth there. It made her feel a little breathless. There was no denying that Clark Kent did have amazing eyes. Eyes that reflected every emotion he was feeling. Right now, she was drawn to gazing into them. Why hadn't she noticed them before? She should have, Chloe was always going on about them.

"You almost sound like you have a crush on him," she'd said the other day.

Chloe had gone strangely quiet. She'd turned to her in shock. "Oh my god you do!"

"Not so loud," she muttered, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her along the corridor.

"I've liked him for years," she continued.

"But he's … so …"

"Straight," Chloe finished for her.

"Yeah."

"You just don't know him. He has the kindest heart, and he's the most loyal friend, not to mention he has a totally gorgeous smile."

Lois had been stupefied for a moment before shaking her head. "Wow, you really do have it bad, but Chloe all he has eyes for is that stuck up cheer leader."

"I know he doesn't think of me that way."

That had kind of made her mad. Here her cousin liked Clark Kent with all of his flaws, and all he had eyes for was some pretty, petite, stuck up cheer leader who didn't look twice at him.

"Oh, I'm going to tell him …"

"No!" Chloe exclaimed, stopping her in her tracks.

"You can't say anything, promise me, Lois. He can never know!"

She sighed, not liking it but she couldn't betray her cousin. "Okay."

"Right now you have him focused on something for the first time in over two years, and that is a good thing."

She frowned at her cousin. "Why, what happened two years ago?"

"His father died. He's never really been the same since."

Suddenly she felt very awkward. Making her legs move, she walked passed him and lightly punched him in the arm.

"So where is that breakfast, Smallville."

Lois was talking, non-stop at the breakfast table. His mother had ended up making them breakfast, and they now sat at the table eating. His mom's eyes met with his, a hint of amusement in them. With Lois here the morning was anything but its usual quiet time.

"You should stay and have breakfast with us every morning, Lois," his mom spoke.

He nearly choked. His eyes watering, before resting on his mom. What had she just done? Did she not know that Lois was the bane of his existence?

"Really," Lois gushed, "You're the best Mrs K."

"Well it's the least I can do, seeing as you give up your mornings to train, Clark."

His mother shot him a pointed look. "Which is very thoughtful of you," she continued.

Something akin to shyness stole over Lois' face, as if she wasn't used to compliments. Then he remembered that her father was a general, and she had lost her own mother at six years of age. His mother was kind, she probably needed that. For a brief moment he glimpsed what he could only describe as; vulnerability in her eyes. It oddly touched him, making her appear more human.

Clark was practicing passes with Pete on the oval. Something they had been doing for an hour every day after school.

He caught a glimpse of Lana out of the corner of his eye. She was chatting with her boyfriend, Chad, the big football hero. Chad, with his stylish cut fair hair, football shorts hanging low on his hips. So full of confidence, as he leaned across Lana, pressing his lips to hers.

A swift jealousy over rode his senses. Feeling the frustration mount at his own inadequacies, he put boot to ball and kicked as hard as he could towards the goal posts. The ball soared through the air, over the heads of the coach training a couple of football players on the field. Much to his astonishment the ball went straight through the middle of the posts.

He stood there dumbfounded for a moment, not even knowing he could kick like that.

"Wow, I guess Lois' training is starting to pay off," Pete remarked behind him.

Clark, slowly turned around to face him. "Yeah I guess it is," he replied running a hand up the back of his neck. Not that she had trained him how to kick a football.

"Clark Kent!" boomed a loud voice.

He recognised it as the coach's. He was in trouble now. Turning around, he watched Coach Jones marching across the oval towards him.

"What the blazes was that?!"

He swallowed. "I-I … was just …"

"Where did you learn to kick like that?"

He hadn't.

"You kicked that ball from 50 yards out."

"It was just a fluke Sir, coach," he stammered.

Coach Jones stood in front of him, assessing him. "I see you put your name down for the football try outs."

"Yes Sir."

"You have a solid build."

That he did, he inwardly sighed.

"You put down for a Linebacker, but with a kick like that I want you also to try out for a place kicker."

His mouth dropped open. He couldn't be serious, it was just a one off thing. He was angry at the time. Like he had said, it was a fluke kick.

"See you at the try outs, Kent, don't let me down."

He still couldn't process it, and watched Coach Jones walk away.

"Whoa," Pete whistled, alongside of him, "You could possible make the side, Clark."

Nah … could he? He kicked that ball on his own strength, no super powers. But it was out of his anger, then a thought took hold. All he had to do was imagine Chad kissing Lana.

Someone was crying. It sounded like a baby. He walked through large pillars of ice that reached up into the sky. It was beautiful. He'd never seen such a place before.

The crying became louder, his eyes rested on a small spacecraft. It looked familiar. A baby lay in it, face scrunched up as it let out another wail.

Sympathy welled up in his heart. Poor little thing, all alone. He knew what that felt like.

"Shss," he murmured, running a hand gently over the baby's soft downy hair. Once chubby hand grasped his finger. The tears gave way to a toothless grin, the baby gave a loud squeal, swinging its hand with his finger stuck in it, back and forth.

"You have a tight grip little fella."

The baby startled gurgling. Clark could feel the corners of his mouth turn up in a smile. Retracting his finger, he slipped both his hands under the baby's armpits and lifted him up.

Staring at him in wonder. "Who are you?"

The sky suddenly spun around, childish laughter echoed in his ears.

"Do it again, dada."

His father's face appeared before him. Swinging him high up in the air, and for a moment, sudden fear gripped him. What if his father didn't catch him? But it was a fear short lived. He father always did, always had.

"Clark," someone was calling, "Clark! Wake up!"

His eyes sprung open. What … the … He rolled over, blinking, dazed. Lois stood there, arms folded. His eyes widened, then flew to the clock; 6.15am. He quickly sat up, running a hand through his tousled hair.

"I … I …"

"Slept in, yeah I got that much, Smallville," she returned.

Suddenly realising he wasn't wearing a top he quickly pulled the doona up, feeling self-conscious.

Lois rolled her eyes. "Seen it all before, Clark, unless you happen to be naked under there."

"No …" his voice broke off there when she pulled the doona off him.

"Boxer shorts," she grinned, amusement in her eyes.

"Lois," he muttered, indignantly.

She turned away, crossed his bedroom floor, reaching for a top slung over the chair. He hastily got out of bed. Still annoyed with her coming into his bedroom. Did she have no concept of privacy?

She flung the top at him. "Here put this on."

He caught it. "You know I can dress myself."

She was rifling through his drawers. "You sure about that, Clark," she returned.

Could she possibly be any more frustrating?

"What are you doing?" he asked, pulling the top on.

"I'm looking for a pair of shorts."

"I don't have any."

She slowly turned around, frowning. He sighed deeply, and reached for his tracksuit pants at the end of the bed, cursing the alarm clock for not going off.

He was expecting some snarky remark but she was quiet. That wasn't a good sign. He glanced at her, her eyes were staring at the scar on his leg. Damn, she had seen it.

"That's some scar, Clark," she spoke, her eyes meeting with his, "I never took you for being vain though."

"That's not why," he murmured, pulling his tracksuit pants on. "Just that people ask questions, questions I don't want to answer."

A puzzled frown dented her forehead. "Why?"

He shook his head. "Because it brings back memories."

It didn't take long for her to put two and two together; his father. She had asked Chloe about it the other day. The day of the tornados, Clark's father was trapped in a basement under a collapsed building. Clark had tried to get him out when the roof collapsed on to the both of them, killing his father, but Clark had survived.

That must have been hell for him. Seeing the pain in his eyes now, she was sorry for invading his personal space. Will you never learn Lois, she silently chided.

An awkward silence followed, she noticed the bleak look in his eyes. It wasn't right to see him so. It stirred something deep within; compassion.

"Of your father," she softly spoke.

He nodded, his hair falling in dark waves around his face. There was something oddly beautiful about him. She took a deep sharp breath, resisting the urge to fling her arms around him and hold him till the pain in his eyes subsided. Taking his hand in hers, she squeezed his fingers.

"You know what you need," she said.

Confusion crossed his face.

"A long hard run."

Monday morning rolled around. Lois was at his doorstep dead on 6.00am, as always. She was certainly punctual. They trudged out to the barn. Once there Lois pulled out the scales from her bag.

"It's been two weeks, time to monitor your progress."

He looked at them with dread.

"It can't be that bad, Smallville."

He had been good up until several days ago. The little conversation with Lois about his father had triggered off the strong desire to eat, and he hadn't quite gotten it back in control yet. But arguing with Lois was futile.

He stepped on them, the pointer landed on 237 pounds. He noticed the frown cross her forehead.

"Only three pounds in two weeks," she remarked, her eyes fastening on his face.

"Either your metabolism is really on the blink, Clark, or you haven't been doing all the right things."

"I've been exercising every day," he stated. "With you."

Her eyes were still boring directly into his. He really could see her joining the Marines. She'd be good at it.

He sighed. "Okay well the last few days I've sort of been really hungry, and Mom's cooking can get hard to refuse."

"Clark!" she exclaimed. "Try outs are in two weeks."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I know."

"I told you to use the boxing bag when you get all mopey," she continued, gesturing at it.

He scowled at her. "What makes you think I've been all mopey?"

She bit on her lip. "I've just noticed you haven't been quite yourself these last few days."

She was pretty shrewd, he realised.

"Ever since we talked about your dad, which we are not going to mention again, seeing it sends you heading straight for the fridge door."

Tugging his arm, she pulled him out the barn door. "Today we are going to do two lengths of the road and back."

Since when had she figured him out so easily?

There was silence as they pounded the dirt road.

His running had really improved in just two weeks, but she felt compelled to push him harder. She was trying to figure out why his father's death had such a detrimental effect upon him. Increasing her stride, she glanced over her shoulder.

"If you really want to punish yourself, you should go for a long hard run instead of eating," she said.

He shot her an annoyed look.

"Keep up, Smallville."

"What do you mean by punishing myself," he gritted, his stride now matching hers.

"Because that's what you do, Clark," she returned. "Though I have no idea why?"

There was a moment's silence. She could hear his laboured breathing but he was keeping up, obviously her words bothered him.

"And how is running going to fix that?" he panted.

"Is it hurting right now?" she asked, increasing her pace. "Really hurting, Clark? Like your lungs feel on fire?"

"Yes," he gritted.

"Good."

She increased her speed. He matched it. They were now running pretty much at full pelt towards the road. She was surprised that he could keep up. He had more stamina than she realised, but it was probably the anger driving him. She could feel it rolling off him waves.

They reached the road, both stopping and gasping for air. She turned and looked at him. He was bent over, hands resting on his thighs, his face red from the exertion. She was mesmerised by the tortured pain on his face.

"I-It's my fault," he got out between gasps for air, "It's my fault he's dead."

Oh Clark. Her heart went out to him. She knew how blaming yourself for someone's death felt all too well. But she didn't say anything, better to give him some breathing space, let him sort it out for himself.

Eventually he began to compose himself.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

He nodded, and hastily wiped his eyes.

"Let's head back."

They began walking down the road in silence. After a couple of minutes had passed she spoke up. "I blamed myself for years."

"What did you do to fix it?" he asked.

She glanced sideways at him. "I took up Martial Arts."

A smile hovered on his lips. "That explains some things."

She lightly punched him in the arm. He nudged her back. And something shifted between them from that day on. She still annoyed him, mercilessly teased him, but now he had a better understanding of her. He could get why she had such a prickly, defensive façade. She was protecting her heart as much as he was.

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A/N: Not sure if it's as good as last chapter but I still loved writing it. I would have liked to edit it further but time did get away on me.

Feedback is always very much appreciated, even if it's to tell me what you liked, or not liked.

I haven't forgotten my other story, just pushing for time and the writing flow went with this story.

Thanks for reading!