A/N: The reviews were amazing on the last chapter! Thank you so much! You can't even begin to imagine how much you all made my day! It was just what I needed too. My son is much better. Work is still painful and I have a ton of marking to do, unfortunately. I guess that's piling up because all I want to do is write :)
Thanks to VisAVis2 for taking the time to edit this chapter for me. It is very much appreciated. This chapter is ridiculously long. I always have an idea on where I want it to end and sometimes it takes me a while to get there :) Due to all the wonderful encouragement I've received the writing muse has definitely kicked in!
That said.
Enjoy!
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Chapter 9.
Lois had tidied up his bedroom. He could actually see the floor now. And she was being nice. Too nice. Something was wrong.
Though he couldn't for the life of him figure out what that was. Quite often he'd look up from whatever he was doing and find her watching him, a speculative look in her eyes. It puzzled him.
Sitting on the sofa, because there really wasn't much else he could do, Clark watched Lois fossick through a stack of DVD's, wearing one of his shirts. Apparently all of her clothes needed washing. Not that there was anything unusual about that only this time she had actually asked if she could borrow a shirt. It was the asking part that had him suspicious. Lois didn't ask. She just helped herself.
"How was school today?"
He wanted to go; anything was better than being at home, alone with his thoughts. But it was Monday and only two days since his accident, though it already felt like forever. Lois returning from school was like a breath of fresh air. The house was empty and silent without her in it.
His mom had taken up a full time job to make ends meet, another thing that had riled him. He was useless like this, unable to do farm chores, unable to do anything!
"Boring as usual. You didn't miss much, Smallville," she returned.
Glancing up from her perusal of the DVD's, a hint of a wry smile crossed her face. "Wait, you did miss Lana's speech about the merits of Shakespeare. She had Mr Owen's eating out of the palm of her hand."
He wished he'd been there, just to see the look on Lois' face as that in itself would have been amusing. And right now he'd give anything to find something to laugh about.
"Have you spoken to her yet?" she casually asked.
"She rang me yesterday."
She had kind of gushed about how sorry she was to see him hurt, then even sorrier that he couldn't play football. He hadn't really known what to say.
Lois dumped the pile of the DVD's on the coffee table. "There is nothing to watch," she grumbled, and looked up brightly. "Let's got visit the video shop. You need some fresh air."
"We don't really need to watch a …"
He didn't get any further. Lois grabbed him by the arm and hoisted him from the sofa. Guess he had no say in the matter. He very nearly toppled over, but Lois had hold of him. His hands rested on her shoulders. And quite suddenly he was in very close proximity to her, catching a waft of her perfume. He recalled their embrace from yesterday morning. He didn't know what had come over him, but seeing her standing there smiling and looking happy to see him, he couldn't help to pull her into his arms. She had gone willing enough, nestling her face into his chest. It felt just as right as it had done in the ambulance.
"Sorry, I kind of forgot about your knee," she said hurriedly in a breathless voice.
He noted the hint of colour in her cheeks. Was she just as affected by his touch as he was to hers?
"It's alright."
His hands dropped to his sides. She reached for his crutches and handed them to him.
"I don't think I need them anymore."
But one look on her face told him it was pointless to argue. He hated the crutches. Was sure he'd find them easier to use if he wasn't so tall. Sighing, he took them from her.
"This isn't the time for male pride, Clark," she chided.
"The doctor said I should only need them for a few days."
"Well then you can stop tomorrow."
He shook his head and followed her to the door. She might be nicer to him of late, but she was still bossy. At least that hadn't changed and was oddly reassuring.
"It's cold outside, Lois. You should grab a jacket."
"I'll be fine," she returned with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Typical of Lois. But he knew she'd be whining on the drive into town. He grabbed his coat from the rack on the way out.
"Here wear this," he instructed.
She turned around and he handed it to her.
"Thanks, Smallville. Always so thoughtful."
Tugging the jacket on, a smile crossed her face. The jacket swam on her. She kind of looked like a boy wearing his shirt and coat. Not that he was about to tell her. An amused smile tilted up the corners of his mouth.
An answering frown dented her forehead. "Laugh it up, Clark."
He couldn't help pulling the lapels of the coat together, resisting the impulse to touch her. "You look cute in my clothes."
Lois bit the inside of her cheek. Oh crap. This was becoming more tortuous by the day. And she certainly didn't look cute! The mirror didn't lie.
"I look like a boy with a bad haircut."
Amusement danced in his eyes. She should be mad, but a warm tingling feeling resided in the pit of her gut. It'd been a few days since she had last seen him smile.
"It's not that bad."
Was he serious? She was beginning to think she could wear a bag over her head, and he'd still find her cute. It was very endearing and sweet, but that was Clark. Was it an alien trait to not see the flaws in other people? Since arriving to her conclusions yesterday morning, her curiosity towards him had increased tenfold. The way his warm gaze rested on her hair informed her that he was telling her the truth. For a guy who was about to turn 18 tomorrow he had so much more depth than other guys his age. But then growing up, knowing you were different and having to hide it, would do that to a person. Her heart went out to him. Oh, Clark; it must have been tough for him to spend his life lying. Would he ever tell her the truth?
"In a weird way it's actually kind of liberating," she admitted, much to her surprise.
His warm smile made her toes curl.
She wanted to tell him that revealing the truth about himself would also be liberating for him. And that he could trust her. He didn't have to face it alone. Although his mom obviously knew, their exchanged secretive glances now making perfect sense, he still needed a friend.
Friends is what they will always be, just friends. So don't even think about getting lost in those gorgeous eyes of his Lois, she silently chided.
"We should go to the video store before it shuts."
She was keen to put some distance between them. Being in such close proximity to him played havoc with her senses.
"18 tomorrow, Clark," she piped up in the car. "On the 18th of December."
"That's tomorrow?"
She rolled her eyes. How could he not remember his own birthday? Oh, that's right, he doesn't even know when that really was. It would almost be like having no identity. She couldn't imagine not knowing something like that. Birthdays were such a big deal as a kid. She still looked forward to her birthday, especially her 21st. Finally she will be of drinking age, not that that stopped her now.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
Did he not wonder where he was from? What planet? Did they speak another language? Are the symbols she'd found part of that language? She remembered asking him the name of the planet but he hadn't 'come up with a name yet'. That must mean he didn't know.
This really was the only home he'd ever known.
"What genre do you like, Smallville?" she asked as they entered the video store.
He shrugged. "I'm easy."
"Okay then let's try sci-fi."
Alien planets, alien life forms and space ships, she mused to herself. Why we're aliens so often cast as villains when nobody had probably ever met one?
Her eyes landed on the cover of E.T.
E.T. was a good alien. She picked it up and waved it at Clark.
"I haven't watched this since I was a girl. You ever watched it?"
He shook his head. She looked at him in disbelief. "ET phone home – doesn't jog any memories."
An amused smile crossed his face.
"You'd like it. Right up your alley, Clark."
A puzzled frown dented his forehead. Was Lois being cryptic?
"Can I help you boys with anything?" an elderly sales lady asked.
The look on Lois' face was priceless. He tried to hide his amusement.
"Us boys," Lois began, sounding every bit a girl, gesturing at him, then herself. "Are just browsing. We don't need any help."
The look of astonishment on the older woman's face made it impossible for Clark not to smile. The woman's eyes raked over Lois.
"Young girls these days," she said with a click of her tongue.
Clark could literally see the steam coming out of Lois' ears. He didn't miss the defiance in her eyes.
"Very unladylike."
He placed a restraining hand on Lois' arm as the woman walked away. "She's old."
"That doesn't make her entitled to an opinion," she fumed.
Her hands came to rest on her hips. "A boy," she huffed and glanced at him, frowning. "You can wipe that amused look off your face, Clark.'
But a hint of a smile tilted up the corners of her mouth. Shrugging, she returned to her perusal of the DVD's on the shelf.
"That's it. I'm wearing pink," she grumbled, "and girly flower printed shirts."
Turning to him, she poked him in the chest with a finger. "I should start wearing dresses too."
He smiled, couldn't help it. Lois never ceased to amuse him.
"I've never seen you in a dress."
Returning her attention back to the shelf, she said over her shoulder. "Yeah, well don't hold your breath on that one, Smallville."
She was a tomboy, but he liked that about her. He tried to picture her wearing a dress. She would look good in one.
"What about Prom night?"
"That's months away, yet."
"Are you going to go to it?"
She glanced at him. "Do they serve alcohol?"
"It's a school, Lois."
She grinned. "Probably not then."
He shook his head bemused.
"Oh, I've got just the thing," Lois exclaimed, "A Back to the Future marathon."
Clark silently groaned as she pulled all three DVD's from the shelf. He was in for a long night.
"Now let's get out of here, Smallville, before we run …" her voice broke off there, as her eyes obviously rested on someone they knew. "Lana."
Sudden dread filled him. Damn. Lana. He slowly turned around.
"Oh, hi Clark," she began, biting down on her lip as her eyes skimmed over Lois.
Nothing spoke louder of two people going steady, than her wearing his clothes. He could see Lana coming to this exact conclusion.
Oh well. Not as if they were really ever an item. But still, rumours spread quickly in a school.
"You're wearing Clark's shirt."
Lana's accusing eyes met his. I thought you said you were just friends?
"This old thing," Lois dismissed. "It was the only thing that was clean."
Lana appeared unconvinced.
"Isn't that right, Clarkie," she continued, giving him a meaningful look.
He nodded. "Oh, yeah. Lois is always pinching my clothes."
That didn't quite come out the way he meant it. Lois shot him a 'way to go Clark' look.
"I must say plaid suits you better than it does, Clark."
He didn't miss the hint of venom in those words, despite the forced smile on her face. He shifted uncomfortably. Lana glanced at the DVD's in Lois' hands before her eyes rested on him.
"I hope you enjoy your Back to the Future marathon," she said, tossing her hair over one shoulder.
"I'll see you both around."
He watched her stalk away. "Um, okay, bye Lana."
"Someone's not happy with you," Lois spoke, alongside him. "Don't sweat it, Clark. It's only a matter of time before she replaces you with another guy."
Things had changed so much of late, his feelings towards Lana being among them. Lois coming into his life and the visions – and it just left him at odds with himself.
Lois snuck into Clark's room the following morning, his wrapped present in hand. She wanted to give it to him before she went to school. Anything to cheer him up. He'd been quiet last night, retreating into his thoughts that given the expression on his face, troubled him.
She gazed down at his sleeping form.
He slept like a babe. As if he didn't have a care in the world. He looked so much younger.
"Clark," she whispered.
Nothing. Did she wake him?
His tousled hair enticed her hands to run her fingers through it. Oh hell. Why not. He was asleep and would be none the wiser. Reaching out a hand she gently pushed a strand of dark hair back from his forehead, half afraid he would wake up. Much to her relief he didn't even stir. She continued with her perusal of him. He really was so perfect in many ways.
"What are you, Clark?" she whispered.
She lightly brushed her fingers along the few days of stubble on his jawline. How the hell was she supposed to stop these developing feelings towards him? She had never felt like this for anyone! But then Clark wasn't just anyone. He was an alien who happened to be more human than everyone who was one. Oh the irony in that.
And it didn't change, at all, the way she felt towards him. She wished it did but she couldn't remember wanting anyone so much. She felt ambushed by her desire and need and want. It was starting to become almost impossible to fight the yearning to belong totally to Clark.
"Damn it, Smallville."
His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks and slowly opened. They met with hers. An unguarded smile tilted up the corners of his mouth. "Lois."
He said her name with such heartfelt warmth. Raising a hand, he cupped her face with his palm, his thumb brushing against her cheek. His gesture melted her heart. Damn. Damn. What was he doing?
Her heart hammered against her shirt.
His fingers fiddled with the ends of her hair. Not that she had much hair there for him to touch. She drew in a deep sharp breath at the sudden intimacy.
An awareness and realization of what he was doing dawned on his face. His eyes widened.
"Lois," he began, sitting up rather suddenly, the blanket slipping down revealing his bare chest.
Oh, this just continued to get better, not! She'd seen his chest a dozen times, just not lately. And she couldn't remember it having the same affect over her as it currently did.
"I-I was having a dream," he stammered, raking a hand through his tousled hair.
An awkward silence followed. His eyes swam with uncertainty.
She dropped her eyes and cleared her thick throat. "Must have been some dream?"
His face reddened. An alien who blushed, she mused.
"W-What are you doing here?"
The real reason she was in his room to begin with before she got rather – distracted. "It's your birthday, Clark. No doubt you've forgotten, again."
"Oh."
"I wanted to give you your present before I went to school."
He blinked, surprised, appearing touched. "You brought me a present?"
"Of course," she snorted, and shoved it at him.
He gingerly took it, staring down at it, looking unsure.
"You unwrap it, Smallville."
She watched him fumble at the ribbon with those big hands of his, the same hands that just a moment ago had so tenderly caressed her face. She inwardly sighed.
"I can assure you it won't bite."
He shot her a half wry smile. "You sure about that, Lois?"
Cute.
And he was taking forever. If it were her, she would have ripped the paper off in a second.
Finally he had the wrapping paper off. She didn't know what to make of his expression.
"It's a journal, Clark," she explained, "When I was cleaning your room the other day I came across that story you were writing a few months back."
He glanced up, his expression slightly guarded.
"I thought maybe you could continue with it."
He opened it up, his eyes falling on the scrap of paper, a shadow flickering in their depths.
"I don't know how the story will end."
Those words spoke volumes. She felt a pang of pity for him. It would suck growing up, not knowing who or what you were.
"Maybe I can help you."
If only he would let her. A hesitant smile tilted up the corners of his mouth. "Thanks Lois."
Taking that as an invitation of yes she promptly told him to 'shove over', and made herself comfortable next to him. Reaching for a pen from his bedside table, she handed it to him.
"You figured out where he is from, yet?"
"Krypton."
That was prompt, had he learned it recently? Because last time she'd asked, he hadn't known.
"H-He's the last son of the house of El," Clark stammered.
Lois bit down on her lip. This was surreal, talking to him and him thinking that she thought this was nothing but a made up story, but both secretly knowing it wasn't.
"That was his home until it was destroyed. Not that he has any memory of it."
She watched him scribble the words down in the journal, and the next few lines appeared on the page. You have a destiny. You will become this planet's saviour.
Those words sent chills racing down her spine.
'You must find the crystal, Kal-el, or all hope is lost.'
What crystal?
Your powers must be restored if you are to fulfil your destiny.
The thudding of her heart echoed in her ears. Powers – restored – destiny. Her eyes rested on his face. Clark had powers?
"What sort of powers did he have?" she murmured.
He glanced up startled, as if he'd forgotten she was even there.
"Ah, um, he could run fast."
"How fast?"
"You wouldn't even be able to see it with the human eye."
She blinked. Seriously? Really? She shivered slightly.
"And what else?"
Clark took a deep breath, as if carefully gauging what he should say. "He was strong, could lift the tractor and nothing could harm him."
"You mean like he had an armour of steel?"
He nodded. "Sort of like that."
She frowned. So far everything had been in past tense. Her eyes rested on the journal. Your powers must be restored.
"What happened to him? How did he lose his powers?"
He stared back at her for a second, a strange expression on his face, almost one of regret.
"I – haven't figured that out yet."
Lois couldn't focus for the rest of the day. During class she would find herself gazing out the window, thinking about Clark, thinking about his story – that it was real. He had a destiny but somehow he had lost his powers.
Did it have to do with the death of his father? I couldn't save him. Whatever it was, Clark had been grieving ever since and maybe it was to do with more than just his father's death. Something bad had happened to him. And it worried her.
By the end of the day Chloe was looking at her strangely.
"What is with you today, Lois?" she asked in the car.
Chloe had offered to pick her up and drop her back to the farm for the week, seeing Clark was out of action.
"Have you ever had a really big secret, one that you could never share in a million years and something you've only discovered recently?" she blurted out.
Chloe frowned.
"You have a crush on Clark?"
Lois looked at her gobsmacked. "What – No!"
Maybe, sort of, but it wasn't a crush. It was a whole lot more than that.
"C'mon, Lois, I saw you on Saturday!" Chloe exclaimed.
The questions mixed with the accusations made the guilt coil even deeper in her gut.
"Okay, I confess that he's grown on me."
Chloe shook her head, her short blonde hair falling down around her ears. Lois almost even envied that length. "Clark – well he has a way with him."
She was she right, and in more ways than one.
"Clark and I will only ever be friends," Lois enforced. "That's the only way it could work."
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
"So I've been telling myself that for the last three years," Chloe sighed.
Three years! Chloe had liked him for that long.
"But I know Clark," Chloe continued, a hint of envy in her voice. "I've seen the way he looks at you."
Lois really didn't want to be having this conversation.
"He sees you, really sees you and I think …" her voice broke off there as tears filled her eyes. "That – he sees you – for what you are and – likes you."
Lois' breath caught in her throat. It made her feel ten times worse than she already did. She hated the thought of hurting her cousin.
"Chloe," she began, "no."
There was a sudden determined look in her eyes. "You can keep lying to yourself, Lois, or you can just be honest."
Complete honesty was easier said than done. It was something she could never confess. I think I love him. And I love him like I've never loved another. It terrified her. All the words she could never say. But wanted too.
Clark wandered through the house feeling restless and aimless with no answers to his dilemma.
What am I'm doing here? What is my purpose? Okay, so apparently he had a so called destiny. He was supposed to be a saviour of sorts, or whatever that was.
But still no answers as to why.
The whole journal thing with Lois that morning had rattled him. How he longed to tell her the truth, to lighten the burden of his secret. He just wanted for someone to listen to what he had to say, someone who could understand.
Was there anybody out there who knew – knew what he was? Someone who had answers that he had none too?
Clark slammed the journal shut. He really was alone. That thought left him feeling so bleak inside.
Face it, Clark, he silently chided, you have to revisit the pain of your past.
He had to do what he'd been dreading – go to the site of his father's death, Hobson's Pond.
A sharp, prodding pain radiated through his knee. He'd been pacing too much. But the physical pain was a welcome relief over what he was going to face emotionally.
No one or nothing could ease that for him.
You fill my head with visions – do you even care what you do to me? He inwardly raged at a faceless voice that meant nothing to him, that he had no recollection of. A past he couldn't even remember. He was part of the human race. It was all he had ever known.
Tears blurred his vision as he opened the journal, once again.
You are this word's saviour. The last of your kind, Kal-el. My son.
'He won't have any memory of us.'
'We will live on, through him.'
"Tell me," he muttered to the page, "Tell me – what I am – what I have to do."
Shoving the journal aside, he stomped, more like hobbled to the bathroom. He rinsed his face with cold water, trying to rein in the turbulent emotions raging through him. He glanced at his reflected image in the mirror.
Different. He just had to be – different. It sucked being different.
And then there was Lois; beautiful, feisty and not fearing where angles feared to tread. She was full of life and everything – everything that was so real. He swallowed, not daring to hope.
He was only 18 but he felt so much older with the burdens that he faced.
His heart yearned towards someone – someone that would completely know him for exactly who he was.
"Yeah, right." He jeered at his own reflection in the mirror. His face – he didn't know it, where it came from. What he was … he was a stranger after all. The eyes that stared at him in that reflected image, whose eyes? Not his earth father or mother. He looked nothing like them. He was alien, even to himself.
How long did he lie to himself? And everyone else around him?
How long did he have pretend to be something other than what he really was? His whole life?
He shut his eyes. Lois.
She made him feel alive. She made him look deep within himself and like what he saw. She made him feel complete. It didn't matter who he was. She really was a lifeline, even if he could never tell her the truth.
The days dragged by. Being stuck at home, alone with his dark thoughts didn't help. He'd rather be at school with the hive of activity happening around him. It would have been a handy distraction.
The evenings were tolerable as Lois and his mom were around. But at night – at night he would lie awake in bed, alone, and all the built up doubts would plague him.
He was still unable to drive the truck because of his knee which meant he hadn't been able to return to the site of his father's death. 'Face it Clark, there would be no more peace of mind for you till you do.'
It made him feel even more restless. Unable to do any physical exertion to release his pent up frustrations didn't help. He sorely missed his morning runs with Lois.
He sighed deeply and made his way to the barn. At least he no longer needed the crutches, but everything was slow going. His frustration was mounting. Tossing some hay bales around would help with that.
He had no sooner tossed two bales of hay when Lois walked in.
"Clark!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing?"
She marched over to him, much like a drill sergeant. He guessed growing up in the Army had made her that way.
"I'm bored," he returned.
"You know what you need?"
Peace of mind, he felt like muttering.
"Some fun," she continued.
He blinked. Trust her to come up with that.
"You remember what that is, Smallville?"
Ah, not in the last week.
"I thought we could have a Christmas party."
He was about to protest.
"Don't give me that look, Clark. You've been moping about the house for the last week and not that I blame you, but as the General used to always say 'time to toughen up, soldier.'
He sighed. Lois was on her band wagon again.
"Lois," he began.
She held up a hand to silence him. "I know how difficult this is for you. Football season over, a bung knee, not to mention the funny dizzy turns where you appear to be in some twilight zone."
She paused for breath, her curious gaze resting on his face. "Which you still haven't explained to me."
Caught between a rock and a hard place, Clark frantically searched his brain for an answer. He couldn't tell her the truth. By the way I'm an alien, Lois. For a moment he allowed his mind to ponder over what her reaction would be. Would she look at him differently? Would her feelings change? He knew she cared deeply for him, but was she attracted to him as much as he was to her?
She clicked her fingers in front of his face. "Earth calling to Clark."
He blinked and glanced at her.
"You've been doing that a lot this last week, Smallville. Zoning out, staring into space as if the -," she paused, her eyes unusually bright, "the weight of the world rests on your shoulders."
Her breath caught in her throat.
She had no idea of the irony of those words. "I – just have a lot of my mind." His words broke off there when he noticed the tears in her eyes.
"Lois," he began, overwhelmed with sudden concern. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head. "I-It's nothing."
Nothing! Lois barely cried, and certainly over nothing.
"Did something happen at school? Did Chad hurt you?"
He had to know. And if Chad so much as laid a finger on her, he'd – do what exactly? He wasn't capable of anything in his present condition.
She held up a hand, the other clutching her stomach. "No."
Then what was it? She stepped backwards, from him, almost as if he was the cause of her distress. "I-I've … got to go."
Turning on her heels, he watched her dash out the barn, confused and bewildered.
You idiot, Lois silently berated, as she ran to the house, and locked herself in the bathroom. What was that all about?
Just she couldn't handle seeing the bleakness in his eyes any longer. It had been there all week despite her efforts to draw him out of himself. Along with fighting the urge to blurt it all out. I know your secret! I know how alone you must be feeling right now.
Tell me – please – trust me.
But he still went it alone and then she could see, clear as day that he really did carry the weight of the world upon his young shoulders. And quite suddenly the tears just came.
He was so young, too young.
He shouldn't be going through this – and definitely not on his own. If only he'd open up to her.
Then Chloe's conversation last Monday hadn't helped. 'You can keep lying to yourself, Lois, or you can just be honest.'
But how could she be honest when Clark couldn't be as equally honest either?
Her mobile phone began to ring. Bloody lousy timing. Muttering under her breath, she pulled it out of her pocket. It was a call from the General. And you just never not answer his calls.
"Daddy," she gushed, in a fake cheerful voice.
"Lo, Lo. How is my girl?"
Did she – could she even honestly answer that?
"I-I'm – good."
Liar, liar, pants of fire.
"I'm taking a week's leave. I want you to come to Fort Benning and spend Christmas with me and your sister Lucy."
Oh – great. But what about Clark? She couldn't leave him for a whole week – but then, maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing. She needed a break. She needed to get her head around her feelings towards him. Plus, the General didn't understand the concept of the word 'no.' He was her father after all.
"Of course, daddy."
Clark would just have to survive without her for a week. She was sure he'd manage. After all, he was used to existing within his own self-imposed exile.
Clark had no idea on what to do. Had he upset Lois? Sure, he'd been a bit more aloof than usual. He'd had a lot on his mind, but he couldn't recall saying anything bad.
Running a hand through his hair, he resisted the urge to take a swift kick at a bale of hay. Last thing he needed was another injury to add to his woes.
He hated the thought of Lois hurting. It wasn't right. And he still couldn't shake off the feeling that it had something to do with him.
Either way he had to know.
He walked up to the house. Opening the back door, he called out her name.
There was no answer.
Her car was out the front. She had to be here, somewhere.
Feeling anxious he walked in to the lounge room. "Lois!"
"I'm here, Clark."
He spun around and spied her sitting on a step in the stairwell.
"Lois?"
Hesitant and unsure of what he should do, he slowly walked towards the stairs. "It's me, isn't it?"
She drew in a heavy breath and gazed deeply into his eyes, as if searching for something.
His heart thundered painfully in his chest.
"No," she began, "Okay – maybe, but it isn't what you're thinking, Clark."
He didn't understand.
Rising to her feet, she descended the few steps so they stood, face to face.
"It's not anything you've said, Smallville – It's what you don't say."
His eyes clouded with pain and confusion. She hated seeing it.
"You bottle up everything inside of you," she murmured.
He sighed and shook his head. "I-I'm not very good with words."
"Especially when it comes to this," she added, resting her hand against his chest. "Your heart."
His hand closed over hers, and a rush of heat surged through her.
"It's hard to explain," he stammered.
If she looked close enough, she could see he wanted to. She knew it had to with what he was; an alien. It was a self-protective measure. His parents had probably drilled it into him, terrified of someone finding out and Clark ending up a lab rat.
That thought made her shudder, and she didn't blame them. Since discovering his alien heritage, she had also become fiercely protective over him.
"It's just – over this week, Clark, you've not been yourself."
And she wanted to feel connected with him again. She wanted to see him smile, hear him laugh.
"And I care," she breathed, swallowing the lump in her throat. A lot, not that she could ever tell him just how much. "I guess you've grown on me, much like an unwanted mole on the side of your cheek," she said lightly to break the tension.
He managed a smile. "Gee, thanks Lois."
"You're welcome."
All this frank honesty was unnerving.
"You are right though, Lois," he began. "I do need to have some fun. Maybe a Christmas party is the right thing, just not too many people."
She smiled up at him.
"Well, we need to have it soon."
His questioning gaze met hers.
"The General has just ordered me to spend a week with him over the Christmas break."
Lois was lousy with goodbyes, even if it was for being only one week away. She'd hoped to creep down the stairs silently and sort of sneak out the door. For a moment she almost thought she would get away with it, until she heard Clark's voice.
"Going somewhere, Lois?"
She spun around, startled.
Clark stood, leaning against the bench. He was up early.
"Smallville," she began, "I wasn't expecting you."
His questioning gaze met with hers. "You weren't going to say goodbye?"
She swallowed and shrugged. "I suck at it." She took a few hesitant steps towards him. "Don't do anything stupid, Smallville."
She punched him the arm. "Especially as I won't be around to patch you up."
He smiled and shook his head. "I don't know who is more of a worry, Lois. You or me?"
"Oh, definitely you."
She noticed the odd lonely look in his eyes. She bit down on her lip and refrained herself from hugging him.
"Don't forget to do your knee exercises," she continued. "I'll see you in a week." With that she spun around and walked quickly for the door.
"Lois," he called after her.
She stopped, damn it. She was so close to getting out.
"I'll miss you."
Turning slowly, a shaky smile cross her face. "Me too."
Tearing her eyes away from his, she forced herself to move and shoved the door open. She was greeted with a fierce blast of wintery cold air. Leaving him was so much harder than it should be.
The week was more tortuous than Lois thought it would be. First there was the whole hair thing. Her father had been upset with what she'd done. Obviously it had brought back too many painful reminders for him. That had been a bit awkward in itself.
Secondly, there was Lucy. She was a law unto herself. Lois felt more ostracised from her than ever. Playing mom, when she'd never been one, had never come easy. There was a wall of resentment between them.
And thirdly, Clark took up all of her waking thoughts. She couldn't wait to get back to him, worrying too much about him, how he was. Clark, with his warm easy way, making her feel – like someone special, someone that meant something to him. Being here made her feel more alone than ever.
His mom drove him to the hospital and his appointment with the Orthopaedic surgeon. It had been nearly three weeks since he'd torn his ACL. And five days since Lois left, not that he was counting, much. The house had been abysmally quiet and empty with her gone. Sure she texted him every day, sometimes several times a day, either reminding him to do his knee exercises or complain about her sister. But it wasn't the same as having her bossing him around in person.
He missed the way she'd light up the room whenever she walked into it.
He missed her infectious smile.
He just – missed her in general.
Chloe and Pete had kept him company. They talked about next year, what University they were going to attend. Chloe was thinking of studying Journalism at Met-U. But he had no idea on what he was going to do or even what he wanted to be. He couldn't even begin to think that far into the future knowing his so-called future wasn't supposed to be like everyone else's.
The specialist examined his knee, and made him perform a range of different motions. The swelling had reduced significantly.
Clark had only one major pressing question for the specialist. "How long before I can drive the truck again?"
He needed to know. The restlessness was growing worse by the day. It didn't help not having Lois there to distract him. He could get his mom to drive him to the site, but that would only be painful for her and this was something he needed to do on his own.
"After surgery, at least three to four weeks."
He couldn't wait that long!
"What if I don't have surgery?"
"In a healthy young man it's not an option, Clark, and especially given the severity of the injury. Your knee will remain unstable, and you run the risk of further injury to it."
Clark inwardly sighed.
"Can I at least delay the surgery?"
"You can, but I don't recommend you do - the sooner it's repaired the better the recovery period for you."
He ran a hand up the back of his neck, feeling exasperated. He really didn't need this hassle. And if, or when he managed to restore his powers he wouldn't even need the damn operation.
"I'll give you and your mom a moment to talk about it," the surgeon spoke and left the room.
Clark shifted restlessly on the chair. His mom looked at him, her face etched with concern.
"I think you should listen to the specialist, Clark."
He had the sinking feeling she would say that.
"I need to go out to the site of Dad's death before I do anything."
He noticed the pain in her eyes at the mention of Dad. His jaw clenched.
"I'll take you …"
"No," he said with more force than intended.
Feeling instantly bad at her wounded expression, he grasped her hand in his. "It's something I have to do on my own."
"Even if you go there, Clark, you don't even know how to get your powers back, or what you will find down there." He heard her draw in a deep sharp breath, "I don't think you should go alone."
"I don't want to put you through any pain."
Her face softened, she squeezed his fingers. "Then wait till Lois gets back and take her with you."
Take Lois with him – he couldn't do that and she'd be wondering why he wanted to go there. But he wasn't about to tell his mom that, better to just agree; "Okay."
One way or another he'd find his own way to Hobson's Pond before he had the surgery, even if it meant risking further injury to his knee by driving the truck.
The specialist returned. His mom glanced his way as if seeking confirmation on the surgery.
He nodded at her and she faced the specialist. "Clark will have the surgery."
It was booked in for the 3rd of January. In exactly one week's time. It didn't give him long. Time really was of the essence now.
Lois had been summoned to the General's office. That only meant one thing; probably a lecture seeing as it was her last night here. She'd been counting down the days. It wasn't that the experience had been exactly unpleasant – just that she no longer belonged here, if she ever had.
Knocking on the door, she heard her father call out. "Come in."
She pushed the door open, feeling a tad anxious. Hoping the lecture wouldn't be too long.
"Have a seat, Lois."
Always so formal. She was his daughter for Christ's sake, not one of his soldiers.
"I must admit, Lois, you've seemed to have settled down this year."
Oh, a compliment, that was good. "At this rate, dare I say it, but you'll even graduate."
She had Clark to thank for that. Along with living at the Kent farm, the first place she could really call a home in a long while.
"What are your plans next year, after you graduate?"
She blinked. Plans. She didn't have any plans.
"I don't know."
"You need to start thinking about your career."
Really? She'd been existing day to day, not even really thinking about her future.
"Have you thought about joining the Defence Force Academy?"
Was he serious?! Hell, no!
"You get paid to study for a recognised degree, Lois, and in an area of your choice."
She knew what he said made sense, to him that was, but she really couldn't see herself ever joining the Army.
"You know me, Dad, I hate orders."
He actually smiled at that as he puffed on a cigar. There was a hint of nostalgia in his eyes.
"You're more like your mother than you could know," he spoke in thoughtful contemplation.
She felt strangely touched by those words, but there was also a sense of resentment too. She had been forced to 'step up' after her mother had died. Her father made her take on responsibilities that she was far too young for.
"Not smoking any more, Lois?"
She bit down on her lip. "No."
Thanks to Clark and her bet with him, but right now she sorely felt like it. The comfort it offered, even if only ever short lived. That was the thing with smoking. It was like meeting up with an old friend who seriously didn't have your best interest at heart. But a friend you wanted to be with all the same. Bad or not, it was still better than nothing.
Her fingers itched to pick up that lighter, flog a cigarette from her father's packet and smoke to her hearts content.
"You should give up, Daddy."
He let out a mirthless laugh. "You're right, but I can't."
Always those words. I can't. How it annoyed her. If she could do it then so could he.
"Can't or won't?"
"Well – it is what it is," he murmured.
Oh, she knew well enough; trapped in a vicious cycle of self-doubt, addiction fuelling the need for more of it. But he should know better.
"Yet, you were so cross with me when I started," she pointed out.
The whole double standard of that still rankled her.
"I just didn't want you to end up the same way – as your mother," he sighed and glanced across the desk at her. "She died from lung cancer."
"And that makes it okay for you to continue lying to yourself about your own health?!"
He poured himself another whiskey. "I'm made of sterner stuff."
She looked at him disbelief. Taking the bottle from him, she poured herself a glass.
"Lois," he began, warningly.
"So am I," she muttered bitterly, raising the glass to her lips. "I'm your daughter after all."
The Kent farm coming into view, as she drove down the long driveway, brought a smile to her lips. She was home. Finally. She couldn't wait to see Clark, and the warmth in his eyes. She sorely needed it. She tried to keep her emotions under check. After all she didn't want Clark to see that she had missed him to much. But who was she kidding.
She all but bounded inside the house, calling out his name. Mrs K came into view.
"Oh, hi Lois, you're back."
Lois found herself caught up in a warm embrace. Mrs K always had been that mother replacement she so desperately needed.
"How is Clark?"
"He's fine."
But Lois already knew how to read between the lines. Clark wasn't fine.
"Where is he?"
"He's here, somewhere. Well he was."
Mrs K glanced out the kitchen window, a frown denting her forehead. "The truck is gone," she murmured.
That didn't sound good. Clark wasn't allowed to drive a vehicle.
"Mrs K," she began, "What is wrong?"
Martha turned to look at her, the sudden concern etched in the lines of her face worrying Lois.
"C-Clark," her voice dropping away, as she clutched the edge of the bench to steadying herself.
To hell with this. The both of them needed her help. It was about time they asked for it.
Taking a deep, formable breath, Lois faced Clark's mom. "I know."
Mrs K's eyes widened.
"I know he's not from here. I figured it out for myself, Mrs K. You have to let me help. I would die protecting Clark's secret."
Mrs K almost crumpled with relief. "Lois," she gasped.
Lois caught her in her arms. "You don't have to do this alone."
Martha clutched onto her. Her eyes filled with dread.
"He's at Hobson Ponds. I-It's where Jonathon had died."
Lois swallowed, experiencing a sudden dread. "Why would he go there?"
The desperation in Martha's eyes worried the hell out of her. "It was where he'd lost his power - he's gone there looking for answers."
She gripped her hand. "He can't face that grief alone, Lois."
"He won't, Mrs K," she said with a determined resolve, "Draw me a mud map and I'll find him."
Clark stood at the site of that fateful day. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. The wind tousled his hair around his face. It sounded mournful and forlorn. Much like he felt.
Where did the answers lie? How did coming back to this place give him back his powers? He didn't understand. He didn't know what he had to do.
He shut his eyes as the memories returned.
'Clark! Clark!'
'Kent! What's happening to him?' Nixon yelled.
'Roger, you've got to get him away from those meteor rocks. They make him sick. Come on! Help me get him out of here!"
A sinister smile cross Nixon's face. 'I don't need the tape. I've got all the evidence I need right here.' Nixon grabbed him by the arm, yanking him to his feet.
'What are you doing, Nixon?!' his Dad yelled, his voice sounding desperate. 'You don't understand. The rocks. Clark ...' His father shot Nixon a furious look.
'You're - not - taking - my son!'
Clark used any last ounce of strength he had to break free of Nixon's hold, stumbling to his father and freeing him from the rock that trapped him. He fell back, exhausted from the pain that crippled his whole body. 'D-Dad ...' He was finding it hard to breath.
His father crawled on hands and knees to reach him. 'Clark ...'
He wanted to tell him a million things. How sorry he was that this had happened. He wanted to tell him that he shouldn't risk his life to protect him. He wanted ... there was a deafening roar. His father shot a glance up at the ceiling, his face falling. 'N-No," he murmured.
His eyes landed on him. Clark knew what he was about to do but it was too late to protest. His father flung his body over his as a protective shield. The rocks rained down, the dust made it difficult to speak or breath, but the anguish he felt in that moment was unbearable. This wasn't happening! Dad! Dad!
Within the space of a few seconds his whole world had crashed down around him, shattering into a million pieces. He never had known how to fit the pieces back together again.
He was so lost in that world of pain that he never heard Lois' car. It wasn't till she called out his name that he saw her. A wave of sickness washed over him. The perimeters of his vision fading out and becoming dark as he tried to focus on her, but he couldn't shake the grief.
Lois was struck by how pale he was as she slowly approached him. He shouldn't be torturing himself like this. He made her heart ache badly for him. A dozen pain filled emotions flitted across his face.
"Clark." Her voice not much more than a hoarse croak.
She swallowed the giant sized lump in her throat. "Why are doing this to yourself?"
He drew in a shaky breath. "You shouldn't have come here, Lois."
And let him face it alone. Not of her watch. He meant far too much to her. It was time for the truth. She couldn't pretend or lie any longer.
"The story," she began slowly, struggling to supress the tremor in her voice. "It isn't just a story is it?"
The turbulent emotion crossing his face made her legs feel like jelly, but it was the raw pain in his eyes that really shook her to the very core of her being.
He took a deep, fortifying breath and whispered. "No – it isn't."
She felt a tightness in her stomach. Her pulse raced. She couldn't even remember breathing.
"It's my story, Lois – and it's real."
His face was etched with fear, along with a desperate need for acceptance.
"I'm the alien boy that Martha and Jonathon Kent found during the meteor shower in a corn field 15 years ago."
A feeling of such tenderness and longing swelled her heart as she gazed at him. How lonely he looked. She longed to wipe away the shadows in his eyes.
"Clark," she sighed.
His eyes were bright with unshed tears. Impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.
"It's alright," she whispered in his ear.
His arms tightened around her as he lifted her up, burying his face in the fleecy collar of her jacket. She was here now. Everything would be okay.
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A/N: Thanks for reading! Love to hear what people think. I really do love writing about these two characters! I'm just happy to hear that people are getting as much enjoyment out of this story as I am writing it. Thanks for the support.
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