Lana glanced sullenly at the calendar behind the counter, hung beside the

espresso machine. Alicia had put it up at the beginning of summer, jokingly to remind some of their more forgetful waitresses what day it was and when

they had to come in for work. To Lana, it was just a constant reminder of

the days that passed too quickly. Her life was on hold, waiting for one

person. Looking at it now, she saw that it was nearing the end of August.

It had been three months since she'd seen Clark. He had not called since

that first time, a month ago, and she was beginning to worry again. She

replayed their time together constantly, scenes of happier times flitting in

her mind, like a slide show film. She'd come to realize that her happy

memories of Clark were few. It seemed that with them, the bad outweighed

the good. Their relationship, as it had always been, was full of drama; she

knew she'd cried too many times over Clark. She thought sometimes that,

perhaps, the risk wasn't worth it. She always seemed to pay for it with her

heart.

Lana brushed away the bad feelings that consumed her then, and concentrated, as usual, on the Talon. The people there counted on her to be cheery and smiling when they came in. She busied herself with making a cappuccino, and before she left the comfortable safety the counter provided to face the crowd of people, Lana plastered a fake smile on her face. She looked up; someone had just walked in the door. Lana stopped dead in her tracks. The smile faded slowly from her lips, replaced with an expression that vacillated between pain and awe.

'There he is, just standing there, like normal.'

It was like she'd imagined: He would just walk in, like nothing had ever

changed and they could pretend that none of this had ever happened. It was

what she'd been hoping for all summer, but now that the moment had arrived

it hurt more than she ever thought it would. The cup of coffee she'd been

carrying slipped out of her hand, fell to the floor and shattered. Lana

barely even noticed. Alicia looked over at her strangely, but then her gaze

turned to Clark. She stared in amazement a moment and then sprung into

action, scurrying into the storage room to find a mop to clean up the mess.

He stood there, watching her from afar, the way he used to--as if she was

untouchable. All sense of logic disappeared the second she saw his face.

He looked the same. His eyes met her gaze, and her chest tightened. 'God,

he's so beautiful,' she thought. His eyes bored into her, soulful and sad.

Lana's heart beat wildly as he approached, tentatively, as if he was afraid.

Suddenly, it wasn't about what her head was telling her anymore. It was only

about her heart, and her body, which tensed as he drew near. Love and lust.

Those were the ties that bound her to this man.

'Despite everything he's done, and everything that's happened, in this one

moment...the way he's looking at me...there's nothing in the world that could make

me believe he doesn't love me as much as he says he does.'

He was hesitant at first, as he opened the door to the Talon. But as soon as he

saw her, laughing with one of the waitresses, he felt more at ease. She

looked different than when he last saw her. Older, somehow, than her sixteen

years. There were lines of worry etched in her face. He realized, guiltily,

that he was the cause of that worry, and wondered again if he made the right

choice coming back to this place. She had the stance of someone more

confident than the girl he left behind in Smallville. Someone who had

suffered, who weathered the storm and came out unscathed. But it was too

late to back out. She'd seen him, and as she lifted her eyes to meet Clark's, the breath caught in his throat. He'd forgotten how incredibly beautiful she was, and what she did to him. He'd also forgotten everything he'd wanted to say to her. His mind went blank. She was the only person in the room that he could see. Maybe in the whole world. Since he couldn't think of anything to say, he said nothing at all. She stared at him, melancholy

and unshakable, before dropping the coffee she was holding. He realized, relieved, that she was probably just as terrified as he was. Perhaps she was not quite as unscathed as he assumed. Taking a deep breath, he walked towards her.

Lana's legs propelled her forward, and suddenly she was enveloped in

Clark's arms, still warm and familiar after all this time. He touched

her, cautiously at first, his hand brushing the hair out of her eyes

lightly. He saw that she was crying, steady streams of tears that made

tracks down her face. His shoulder muffled the sound of her sobs, which

faded gradually to quiet whimpers. He pressed his cheek to hers and felt her warm

skin against his.

"It's okay," he murmured.

He held her face in his hands and gave her a sad, sort-of half smile. She

smiled back at him, through her tears, but she did not look any happier. He

stared into her eyes, desperately, as if he was searching for something; permission, perhaps. He brought his mouth to hers, tasting her tender flesh.

She closed her eyes and gave in to him, though something inside her

urged her to make him stop. Their lips crushed together almost violently as

her nails knead into his muscular arms. He held her gently, though her

body stiffened under his touch and she seemed to be more hesitant. His hand

rested on the small of her back, supporting her lightly. She was a fragile creature. He would not hurt her again. He kissed her fiercely, unapologetically, and wondered why it was he ever left in the first place. How could he have ever left this? The taste of her tongue was intoxicating. He

wanted so badly to feel her love him. She kissed him back, lustfully, but he

could feel her detachment from the whole situation. She was crying again, her

chest heaving against him, her tears wet against his skin. She was kissing

him frantically, roughly, her lips pressing into his so hard it hurt; she

seemed to be enjoying that part of it. Trying to suck the life out of him,

bruising him, hurting him. 'Something is wrong,' he thought. She stopped suddenly, as if she'd come to her senses and remembered that what she was

doing was wrong.

"No," she whispered agonizingly, and pulled away from him.

His arms dropped to his sides, and he released her. "What is it?" he

breathed, suddenly aware of all the people staring at them. She seemed not

to have noticed.

She was trembling, her eyes downcast, avoiding his gaze.

He put a warm hand lightly on her arm. She shook her head, and

painstakingly slowly, lifted it and let it fall back to his side. Then she

turned, drying her eyes with the back of her hand, and ran out of the Talon.

Clark felt all the eyes in the room on him as he stood helplessly, watching

as Lana disappeared around the corner. He was stunned, and afraid, again.

He ran his tongue over his lips, and could taste the salt in her tears.