Title: "All I Want"
Author: Niggle
Genre: Romance (Clark/Lana), Alternate Universe and Future
Summary: What if Clark hadn't gotten his powers back from Eric?
Rating: G
Archive: View as author intended at: niggle.0catch.com
"Whoa, whoa, take it easy."
Ronin eyed Clark askance as the blanket was placed on his back and pranced in irritation with the addition of a Western saddle. The six-year-old stallion was much more interested in pursuing Dapple, just within his sight across the center aisle of the stable, than mucking about with riding tack. He had been eying the painted mare since the minute she had arrived at the Kent barn.
"It's a good thing you decided to take Atticus," Clark said to his wife as she led the bay gelding past them. "He won't be so much of a distraction."
"Hmm. And what about me? Won't I be a distraction?" she replied as she moved to adjust the bay's girth.
His gaze took her in, every inch of her, the beauty that went beyond what everyone saw to a vision that was his alone.
"Always."
When she turned at the sound of his voice, he kissed her softly, one hand resting lightly on her neck while the other, forgotten, clutched Ronin's lead. She curled her fingers around his wrist and responded with fervor, until the horses' fidgeting broke them apart.
"We better hurry or we'll miss it," she said as she swung into the saddle.
Smiling in agreement, he mounted and steered Ronin firmly away from the prospect of a late afternoon romp with Dapple. Their shadows were long and thin as they trotted out of the barn, passing the house on their way to the trail that traversed their property. The acreage was modest compared to some of the farms around Smallville but it made good pastureland for the two dozen horses they stabled. It also harbored one of the best (and only) views in town.
Ronin was even more high-strung than usual, straining against the bit and side-stepping in an obvious desire to run. It took all of Clark's considerable skill and strength to keep the animal moving in a straight line. As soon as they reached the gate he urged him into a canter and then a gallop.
With obvious relish, the long-legged chestnut pounded past Atticus in an explosion of ground-eating strides. He let the horse tire himself just a little before bringing him back down to a trot and glanced over his shoulder to see Lana keeping pace roughly fifteen yards behind, her sculpted face flushed with pleasure. She had never seemed so alive to him as she did on horseback. She had been riding the day he realized he wanted to marry her.
"Worried I can't keep up?"
Without waiting for an answer, she blew past in a flurry of hoofbeats, glancing back challengingly. He grinned and followed her across the field and up the hill that rose on the western edge of their land. They slowed as they approached the crest of the slope (which Pete had dubbed a "Kansas mountain" since it was something of a geographical rarity). They looked down, as they always did, across the long plain of green that stretched out before them until it met the sky and mingled with the colors of the setting sun.
"It's like the corn's on fire," Lana remarked of the way the red light spilled over the neighboring farms' crops. She always noticed things like that, little details that were so different and so similar with each day's conclusion. Clark said nothing, and they sat in silence for a time, side by side as always. It had become something of a ritual for them, this diurnal vigil. Clark was always reminded of other sunsets they had watched together over the years. It seemed that every important moment in their lives had been commemorated with a crimson explosion of ethereal flame. His mind wandered and he found himself thinking of the sunset he had urged her to give Whitney another chance, while his gut had twisted at the thought of them together and he had hated himself for hating to do the right thing. She had told him that she loved him for the first time while the sun set, saying everything he had ever wanted to hear, and meaning it. He had proposed during the twilight hours of New Year's, while drunken festivities raged on around them. And of course, they had watched the sunset on their honeymoon. If he lived a thousand years he would never forget that night.
One thing or another had always seemed to keep them distanced from each other, but she had found him again. When all the barriers that separated them had been lowered at last, she had chosen him, for reasons he didn't understand but had never questioned. Suddenly, he found himself thinking for the first time in a long while about the circumstances that had brought them together.
She had visited him in the hospital after. She had been angry, furious, that he had gone after Eric alone, with only her necklace to protect himself and without telling her why he had wanted to borrow it. He had watched the hurt in her eyes as she surveyed his wounds and he had known that she was feeling the battered ribs, the lacerations, the bruises. He had grinned foolishly at her and held the necklace out, its bloody chain dangling from his fingers. Her skin had been so soft on his as she silently took it.
It's amazing how one moment can change your life forever.
He could still hear Cassandra's voice, strident and as clear as the day they spoke. She had been so certain. He could not help feeling some guilt when he thought of the old woman. She had said his gifts were meant to help people and he sometimes felt as though he were neglecting…something. But a chance lightening strike had decided the course of his life for him and he had long ago accepted the verdict.
She watched him as he watched the west. It was strange how they spent so much time just talking and still things were left unsaid between them. But when she looked into his eyes, she knew she saw his soul, and it was enough.
"What are you thinking?" she asked, noting his melancholy expression. "Regrets?"
"No." He paused and smiled with all his heart. "No, this is all I want."