They stand there holding each other as the minutes slowly tick by. She's sobbing, her tears soaking through his shirt. She's numb, and he can almost feel her pain seeping through into his skin. Her link to the only past she can remember now has been severed. What was before the meteor shower is only a memory, and a distant one at that. The memories of her parents fade with each passing year, a secret she divulged to me, one evening on her porch, and a sadness I sometimes see in her eyes. Searching for clues to the past, a link that would send her back, even for just a moment. With Whitney, she had her savior, a person who would protect her from the world, and from herself. Now, he's gone; she fears, dead. She didn't love him. No. But he cared about her, and saved her from the constant loneliness that plagued her ever since her parents' death. It was only recently that she'd realized that Whitney hadn't been the one to rescue her at all. She was still lonely. So she broke it off with him and found solace in her friends and in one Clark Kent, who meant more to her than anyone else in the world. He loved her no matter what, and would always love her, unconditionally. Her hands dig into my back, grasping for something in me that will help heal her. The only thing I can offer her is myself. Gasping sobs wrack her small frame, and I fear for a second that she'll forget to breathe. After a while, her crying subsides, and she tires, falling into me. I hold her tightly, supporting her as she relaxes into me. She lifts her head up and gazes at me. An expression of shy embarrassment flits over her face. Lana dries her eyes with the back of her hand and releases herself from my grasp.

"Sorry," she whispers, almost silently.

I shake my head, and slip my fingers into hers.

"You want to go inside?"

I nod, grateful that he doesn't ask me if I'm all right. I wouldn't know how to answer. He casually pulls me closer to him, his arm slipping around my waist and then dangling by my side. It's in these gestures, that I see it. The way he holds me, fiercely, as if he never wants to let me go, but gently, because he's willing to give me up when he has to. The way he rubbed by back, gently running his palm up and down, soothingly, as I cried. He makes me feel safe in a way I've never experienced before. Protected and warm, and.loved. That's when I realize that he loves me. It's unspoken, as most things are between us. I just hope that he knows I love him too.