Title: We always fail destiny

Spoilers: Up to 'Power' then goes AU

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't profit.

His steps rocked slowly down the steps and Lois crossed her arms over her chest as she waited for him to appear behind the partition. From her seated position Clent nearly looked like a giant when he finally visualized, blue shirt over dark blue jeans.

"Clark's going to be just a minute, Lois."

"Are you avoiding me?"

He blinked. "What?"

"You've barely said two words to me today."

Clent took a step forward. "You've been with Clark all day."

Swiftly, she stood and walked closer to him, still feeling the web of his pain somehow attempting to grab her.

"Something's different now."

"Nothing's different, Lois."

Omission was the same as a lie. He knew that, but he couldn't tell her he was trying to spare himself the pain again. He wasn't ready to lose her twice, no matter if she wasn't really his to begin with. Shaking his head, Clent stepped away from her.

"I could never avoid you, Lois. But I'm not supposed to be here. Do you understand that? If I didn't have to be here you'd already be…."

"Be what?"

"I," he took a breath in and slowly exhaled it. He wanted to tell her so badly, so much that he was sure it would explode out of him. "I can't tell you."

"And that means you suddenly have to stay away from me?"

"No, it's just easier."

"Damn it, Clent! I don't understand."

Without thinking he caught her cheeks with his hands. He felt the heat spread through his palms, the flutter as her heart skipped a beat. If his life depended on it, and it had before, he probably couldn't have relinquished his hold on her skin. Touching her was being alive again. It was breathing in her humanity and feeling like he had a place in a world that had only adopted him. He was hers, absolutely and utterly.

Lois had that same never-felt-this-way-before feeling and even though she knew she should feel guilty, she couldn't. His pain faded, not completely, but she felt it lessen and become replaced by another feeling. Something about the way he was looking at her reminded her of the first day he'd found her. It was like he barely believed she was in front of him, as if she wasn't real. Maybe she was a ghost.

"You're so impatient," he whispered. A smile passed his lips.

And then something else tugged at her, gentler and much more timid coming in a different direction. In one moment she somehow belonged to Clent and in the next she felt the edge of an imperfect fit. This was Clark. She didn't love Clark, elseworld Clark or this world Clark. She couldn't, not in a million years. She pulled out of his touch, the sting continuing in both of them.

"What's – ." Lois didn't finish, Clark's quickened steps singing through the air.

Clent cleared his throat, stepping away from Lois's body and toward Clark's form.

"You ready, Clark?"

"Yeah."

Staring closely at Clark, Clent pursed his lips. "You're not wearing it are you?"

"I didn't see the need to."

"Clark!"

"What's the point? I can't fly yet."

"The point is that you're trying to establish a double identity. One that's as far away from Clark Kent as possible."

There was more to Clark's defiance than his vanity. More than anything he was afraid, unsure. Putting the suit on, owning the colors and fabric, it meant more than just wearing an outfit. It would be his symbol, the thing people would look for, remember him with. Taking this step meant holding the responsibility of the world, and he was sure he would fail. He'd failed so many so far without meaning to.

"You were born for this." Clent straightened his shoulders. "Here's your proof."

Lois watched Clark's eyes slowly brighten and his stance strengthen. It was strange, the transformation she witnessed, and she nearly felt herself smile for no reason. Before her mouth could say anything, a rush of blue sucked her forward and then Clark was back in his spot, patting the front of his t-shirt down. Her vision caught a bulge on his back and her feet carried her body toward him with barely a thought.

"Lois, what are you doing?"

"Calm down, Smallville." Lois frowned, her hand roving over his suddenly tense back. "I'm not feeling you up."

"Could've fooled me. Ow! What are you doing?"

Not answering him, she pulled on the simple hem of his shirt and tugged it up his back in a swift movement. Clark turned too fast for her and he reached for her wrists to steady her, letting her fall into him just barely. She let him hold her skin longer, mind focused more on the red fabric sweeping behind him.

"Is that a…cape?"

His hands released her, finding themselves more preoccupied with stuffing his red cape back into his normal clothes.

"Yes."

"Let me see it."

"See what?"

Her look burned at him and he sighed in response.

"Not yet, Lois."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

"Really?" Lois stepped closer to him. "You just said that. To me?"

Clark fought the smile biting the edges of his lips. "I did. What are you going to do about it?"

"You've let this superhero business go to that little peanut brain, Smallville."

"Well, me and my peanut brain are leaving. To you know, save lives."

"You do that," Lois tilted her head. "And remember, run to, not away from the action."

They stared the other down, and looking in on them, Clent nearly heard his bones creak with age. Two years. Just two years older than he was when she died, and here he stood, feeling more ancient than the stars. The two people in front of him were just at the start, still fresh, full of so much life and adventure.

"Hey, Clent?"

He shook his head, Clark's voice sounding worried and Lois's face lined with the beginning of worry.

"Sorry," Clent smiled at the pair before taking a step to Lois. "I guess the tights are making both of us uncomfortable."

Clark choked. "Clent!"

"Smallville's wearing tights?" Lois laughed behind her hand and disregarded Clark's harmless glare. "Now, I have to see this."

"Sorry, Lois." Clark slapped Clent's shoulder and pulled him along toward the door. "We're leaving. If you get the urge to cook, remember not to use water on grease and there's a fire extinguisher under the cabinet."

The patrol was different this time. Clark nearly felt the electricity running through the air, or maybe through him and transferring to the wind around his body. His feet were lighter, faster, keeping up with an airborne Clent.

"Two blocks east." Clent's voice shaped to his ear. "Hear it?"

He did. Two men whispering to the other, the sound of metal clinking together, the hush of a night stuck in slumber. He hid himself in the dark and spoke.

"Interrupting anything important, guys?"

The taller man turned, a flash of cold metal at his side as he straightened from his crouch. The smaller man froze in his spot, hands forgetting their wrestling with the lock of a home's door.

"Okay, pal! Step away and no one gets hurt! Meaning you!"

Clark stayed in the shadow of the apartment complex, hands loose against his chest.

"I think your friend needs some help breaking in," Clark tsked.

"Why don't you come out and help him, then?"
"I thought you'd never ask."

He leaned off the building and entered the glow of the backlight, by this time growing more proud of his suit than before. The look of confusion on the duo's faces made him want to look down – not a mistake he was willing to make again.

The taller man yelled, "Who the hell are you?!"

"I'm the Red-Blue-Blur."

"I can't believe it," the smaller man voiced. "The Red-Blue-Blur got us."

"The Red-Blue-Blur is dead, idiot!"

Tall-man fired his weapon, three shots in quick succession that hit Clark center of his chest. The ricochet was quiet, and the silence soon after was deafening.

"No," Clark, amazingly calm, walked closer to the open mouthed would be robbers. "He's not."

Enjoying the brief break, Clent and Clark sat on The Daily Planet's roof. Sitting on the higher step, Clent leaned his elbows on his knees.

"Your time out west wasn't a total waste. Good job tonight, Clark."

"Thanks." Clark looked over at his street clothes resting on a bench in the corner. "And I have to admit, the suit was a good idea."

"My ideas usually are."

"You're starting to sound like Lois."

"That's what everyone says."

Clark felt his brows move into a frown. There it was, one of those innocent future comments that made absolutely no sense. It opened his curiosity.

"What is Lois up to in your world?"

"Ah," Clent tensed, "I really can't – ."

"I know. But I was just thinking, knowing Lois, if she's your best friend, she'll be looking for you."

His fingers more fascinating, Clent laced them together. She would. If she were alive, she wouldn't sleep for days. She'd give everyone hell, and they'd take it, take because they all knew the lengths Lois and Clark would go to. Even when he was dead she'd never given up. All that time she spent without him, and she'd never wavered in her faith no matter how many others did. And that look. That look she'd give him when he came back to her, worse for wear but alive, it was the breath returning back to his lungs. Each and every time he was taken from her, he always found his way back to Lois.

She wasn't real, couldn't be. And she couldn't be crying, not alone, not on the roof with the globe behind her.

His hand dropped from the door handle and he was scared for the first time in months because it felt so much like one of his dreams. His nightmares.

"Lois?"

Her back straightened and the hair of her ponytail swiveled around her face as she suddenly faced him.

"Would you leave me alone?! Just stop it! I can't take it anymore!"

Clark continued to stare at her, caught up in her beauty and the voice that had become his conscience. It was her. It was her.

"Didn't you hear me?! I don't want anything to do with you!" Her finger met his chest. The glare met his eyes. "You're an impersonation! You're not Superman and I know it!"

Watching her chest heave, he nearly smiled. She was so impatient. And so was he. He caught her wrists before crushing his lips onto hers. She fought him, just a second, and after that he knew she had figured it out.

So much. Clent closed his eyes. He missed her so much.

"Yeah, she will."