Real Love, a smallville fanfic

(Post Exodus fic)

Real Love

Part 1

All my little plans and schemes,
lost like some forgotten dreams,
seems that all I really was doing
was waiting for you.

Just like little girls and boys,
playing with their little toys.
Seems like all they really were doing
was waiting for love.

Clark leaned against the brick wall of a building. His eyes tired, slopping down to his nose, he couldn't pay attention, he was so tired. It had been three months since he left Smallville. Since in a selfish act he left his only love, because he couldn't take the pain, so pathetic he was. Now he could never go back, he could never show his face. He rubbed his cheek with his hand feeling his slight beard. His clothes were tattered; his hair was long and unclean. He was sad and dirty. He hadn't eaten, he didn't need to. He didn't need anything. He'd been sitting on the same street against the same building for over a week without moving. He didn't have it in him to move. He was finally thinking clearly, well not clearly but unmotivated. The ring had been gone for over a month now. When you sleep on the streets it's not long till someone robs you of a ring in the big city. That is when the depression really started to set in, when he realized it was all gone, everything that he had worked for, for so long was gone. All the attention he had given her, all the trust he built with his parents, gone. All because he tried to run from a destiny, if only he saw then what he saw now. Destinies aren't made to be escaped from, they're made from accomplishments. The only thing had had managed to accomplish was for the love of his life to hate him and his parents to disown him. He sighed picking the dirt out of his fingernails, but it was all for none, because it would just get jammed under another.

Lana cried again that night in her makeshift bed. Her life was a constant circle of abandonment. Her parents, Whitney, Clark, everyone that she ever got close to left her in one way or another. It was her curse. Yet, life had made her such a tender creature, sure she was strong but at the same time she was so sensitive, so keen in others emotions and yet not her own. It was others that brought out her own fears and pains, she could never hurt herself emotionally, and it was the thought of others that caused the many weeping nights.

There was a knock at her door, "Come in," she said after a breath and an attempt to compose herself. She gave a small fake smile to Chloe as she entered, not fake as it wasn't genuine but fake in the sense she couldn't give a real hopeful, happy smile.

Chloe gave a sympathetic frown and walked over towards Lana. She sat down next to her and placed her hand on the sobbing woman's back, "It's not worth it Lana."

Lana just nodded, but didn't believe it, "It's just everyone I ever got close to leaves me."

Chloe sighed, "Listen Lana it's like what they say about butterflies, if you let one go and it comes back. Then it was meant to be, but if it doesn't, than," she didn't finish, she didn't need to.

"It's just that…," the words Lana was about to say were going to hurt Chloe, and she didn't want to do that, but at the same time she couldn't deny her true feelings. "Just that, I was finally beginning to fall for him, to love him, I'm sorry Chloe, but I love him."

Chloe sighed, but she had came to that realization of Clark and Lana's relationship for a long time, and she couldn't take another restless night from her friend, "You know Lana," she watched her friend's face look over at hers, "If I loved something, I'd do whatever in my power to obtain and keep it," Chloe got up and made her way to the door. "If your tears are just going to show you puddles of despair, maybe it's time to bring out the sun," and with that Chloe gave a small smile and left.

Lana stared at the floor, left with the thing that scared her the most, her thoughts. Three months and nothing had been accomplished with her weeping alone every night. Did she want to go after Clark? She had said that she didn't want to give up on him, that she believed in him. But what was the point if he didn't believe in himself? Did he believe in her? She only wondered. Was it worth looking into? Where was Clark? What was he thinking, feeling? Was he okay? She remembered the distraught look upon his face when leaving the crater that was his farm. At that moment she was afraid that he would hurt himself, or someone. He wasn't himself, and again when leaving on the motorcycle he wasn't himself. Something else was controlling him, that wasn't the Clark she had fallen for. That wasn't the person whose eyes gave her hope and comfort, that wasn't him. She imagined Clark hurt, lost somewhere in the city. She never thought of him with another, or with someone else. No, he wouldn't do that, he didn't leave to find happiness; he left to run away from his troubles.

She went under the bed and pulled out a yearbook. She already had it opened to Clark's picture and she stared at it, but it was no longer comforting. It wasn't the same; her wounds could no longer be aided by a picture. She needed his warmth, his touch, she longed so desperately for him. It hurt, it hurt so much. He wasn't there to save her, she needed to be saved and yet he wasn't there, why? Because he needed to be saved more than she did, Lana placed the yearbook back under the bed. She lied down the ceiling glossy from the tears within her eyes. Tomorrow she promised herself, tomorrow she would go over to the Kent farm and try to get some answers; there was a puzzle there within itself. Why had the Kents not gone to look for Clark? It was as though Clark didn't exist to them. Why? There was no stronger family in all of Smallville than the Kents and yet they had become distant. What happened to Clark? What did she not understand?

She lied there and pulled the covers up on herself, she was so cold. She moved her knees up near her stomach, tucking herself in for warmth, from the cold that bore itself upon her heart, or from it. The vast loneliness from inside of it unleashing its chilling pain out to wards the rest of her body. She clenched any left over cover as much as she could, grasping, grasping for something…

"Clark,

If you left for a pain

That I couldn't feel

I saw it in your face

So cold, so real

Are you in pain like me

Unable to get up

Unable to see

Wanting to know

If our love is to ever be

Are you in the same lonesome night

With no one to hold you tight

Left with only your tears and fright

Will you sleep this night

If you need to be saved

I will soon be there

Don't wonder too long

Please…

Take care

We'll be together soon

My love

Even if I have to go through an eternity

Of sobbing nights

I'll reach you Clark

My salvation

My light

I'll reach for you

Just don't go dim tonight"

She cried the words into her pillow till sleep finally caught up to her. It tangled her into its ageless wonder and fought her no longer, left her with only her dreams, fears, and hopes….

-end of part 1

Part 2

"Don't need to be alone,
no need to be alone.
It's real love, it's real.
Yes it's real love, it's real."

Comfort is a hard thing to gain in life. There are very few things that offer us, security, contentment, hope. If you find something that gives you comfort it should never change. It should never wear a mask and scare you, never come unexpected but you should come to it, and it should be there…, always with open arms. Not long ago the Kent home became such a place. Clark introduced her to it, but it was always there, just not as a place of comfort. And it wasn't always Clark that made it such a place. It was generally warm, inviting, forgiving. Yet, now it seemed so alien. So many questions stirred in her mind as she faced the house. She didn't know what to expect when she knocked at that door. Caring parents? Scared parents? Changed parents? Lana Lang etched her way closer to the house and the new questions that poured into her mind were starting to fade the true questions, why weren't they looking for their son?

What had Clark done to lose all faith with his parents? Why did they not care about him anymore? Did they not care about him? It wasn't his fault that Martha lost the child…, was it? Even so, still there must be some remorse boiling within them. This was the all American household surely there was something there that asked for forgiveness. Unless there truly was something horribly wrong with Clark. Maybe Clark had a secret that even his parents over time couldn't handle. Maybe they had enough of him…, maybe Clark isn't worth the effort. No, she couldn't believe that. She knew Clark Kent, she knew him for who he really was, the most caring person she had ever known in her whole life. Clark went out of the way to help other people, anytime anything ever went wrong was an accident, he didn't purposely try to hurt people, but his actions sometimes caused such events. Lana remembered the way he left her. Dressed in black, not the dreamt white knight who comes and brisk you away, no he was hiding behind leather trying to hide the fact that he was scared. Something died in Clark that day, Lana knew, she knew it because something died in her as well.

She knocked on the Kent front door.

Lex Luthor powered his wheelchair around the pool table, as he attempted to make shots. It was difficult, but not impossible. As he slide the stick through his thumb and watched with success as the balls knocked off and sunk with precision. But he didn't pay much attention to the success that was happening in-front of him, no all he concerned himself with was the globe. He stared at the ocean water. How? How did he live? There was no reasoning behind it, it was the second time he escaped death in his life and beside the physical implications had he really changed? How could his father manipulate him in such a way, how could his wife…. He should've kept with his instincts that she was working for his father, but no, he had to reach out for that stupid thing called hope, that thing that supposedly led to all the riches in life, how foolish everything is, just a fancy frolic with shells of beings that hold no matter.

He remembered being thrown from the plane, he didn't remember the pain. Just the ringing concussion within his head, that damn concussion sound, he heard it all the time but it didn't excite it, no it chilled him. He thought more and remembered grabbing a piece of wreckage that brought him up above the water and then…. Then there was just a hospital room, and an apology letter from his father. Oh, the grin on Lex's face when he spat on it and tore it into a thousand pieces, once he got the strength to do so.

They say hope comes from the toughest situations; no it's the situations that made it fade away.

Clark watched the people as they walked briskly down the street, briskly as so not to spend too much time passing him. Afraid that he was going to ask for their money or worst, such a destiny he had. He sighed and looked down. They shouldn't be afraid of him, when he was afraid of everything. Especially his feelings, which he kept hidden, like a bank account number. He hid a lot of things in his life and he wasn't positive why. I guess when trying to hide yourself from the world for so long all that can grow from it is fear. He was supposed to grow to love, not fear, but no, when he loved he ran. He watched a little girl fall in-front of him, he quickly went to help her out but her mother tore her away and quickly ran down the street. Clark sat back down to his lonely existence. The girl who was just torn from his arms was Lana Lang. Torn from his arms, mind, and finally his heart, Clark sat there in the dirty street, torn and beaten and cried for what was not.

-end of part 2

Part 3

Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.

It was a lovely house, a beautiful house. The shingles were painted tan and shadows danced across the plush lawn. The sun brought out onto the stage by the brick chimney. Elegant flowers painted their way up the walkway to the front door. Out in the middle of the lush green yard upon the shadow's stage laid a light blue blanket stretched out as though applying a brilliant blush upon the lawn's face. There laid a knitted brown basket in the corner of the blanket. Two amazing beings sat upon the blush, statues as though they were built with the strongest of materials. Constructed with the thought of greatness in mind and even though they seem eternal, there's something fragile and innocent about them, they don't seem so much hardened as endearing. The two beautiful women were very different in size but similar in most everything else. The smaller ones hair was curled more especially at the ends. It was evident on what they were doing. As they began taking sandwiches and juices from the basket, they were having a picnic. Clark watched them; he admired it as though it was a Rockwell picture.

"Hunny, go get your father," the taller said sweetly to the younger child.

The little girl hurried over to her father. She moved as quickly as her little legs would carry her. Her small hand wrapped itself around her father's thumb. Clark looked down to see the little girl excitably express the words, "Come on!"

Clark glanced over at the taller girl who gave him only a smile and a wink, Lana Lang. But the wink was all he saw.

Clark awoke gasping for air, coughing from the foul putrid stench that brought itself from the city streets. It poured deep into his nose, strangling all his nerves tight. He coughed and choked for several minutes until he was able to gain his composure and his sense of smell decided to admit defeat. He wiped the sweat from his head, the cold nightmarish after sweat of knowing a utopian life of dreams is to never be. The dirt sealed itself into his pours stinging his forehead as he brought his forearm over to wipe it. He sighed and looked up towards the sky. It was cloudy.

"Lana," Martha Kent said quickly perking up smile, "Well, this is unexpected," she opened the door wider, "Come in. Come in," she motioned.

Lana simply shook her head, "I'd rather not."

Martha awkwardly stood there between the doorway, "Well then what can I do for you?"

"Where is he?" Lana said, not explaining any further.

"Who?" Martha said innocently.

Lana narrowed her eyes, "Where is he?" she repeated, she knew where he went. Yet, she wanted to see what she could get from the Kent's. What were they hiding? What were there motives? What happened that day?

Martha sighed, "Lana don't you think if I knew that I'd be going and searching for him myself."

"Why haven't you? He's your son," Lana voiced.

Suddenly Jonathan came behind Martha and placed his hand on the door, "I'm sorry Miss Lang, but we're not going to talk about this. Have a good day," and with that he brushed Martha inside and closed the door.

Lana walked down the few porch steps and took a glance at the yellow house. She turned her body slightly and looked up to the loft and realized that she probably would never see another sunset from there again. She wiped her eyes remembering how great those moments were. The sun was any different that day, the colors were any brighter or different it was just the warm feeling that incited around her when she there…, with Clark.

She kicked the rocks down the road. Why? It was human nature, it didn't require any thought. You just know that you've been kicking the same rock since you were a child and when you're old you'll still be kicking the same rock. Kicking it down the road to see how many times it'll tumble and roll. Thinking in your naïve mind that if you kick it hard enough it'll never stop and you'll have to make some joyous journey, running with all your might in an attempt to finally catch up to your accomplishment. But it's never like that; no we kick the same rock all the time. We tell each other the same lies; hide behind the same set of excuses. Yet, we generally look for something pure as we look behind the same set of eyes, as human beings we search for something more hoping, believing, wishing, and needing to know if we're right. If the search is worth it, if there is a need for a search? That's the reason she stayed up so many nights contemplating with herself that his secret wasn't worth it. That she knew who was behind that exterior, she knew the real Clark Kent, it was him, he was fooling himself, hiding himself from the rest of the world. Just like he knew that she was doing the same thing. Oh, the pain of being vulnerable, being human.

She felt the cold win wrap itself around her face. Telling her to turn back, warning her not to go forward. Lana didn't stop. She didn't even contemplate it, she was tired of being scared, tired of waiting things for things to happen. It wasn't a warning, she made it up in her mind it was a test. It had to be! Or else all that looking and searching would be in vain! She felt the chilling air strangle at her lungs but she pressed onward. She wasn't cold. She was numb. She had been cold every day, every second since Clark had left. There was no sense of cold to her anymore, no, the only thing that proved her human were the warm tears that streamed from her eyes, creating themselves from her burning, desiring heart. She remembered herself looking in the yearbook, no, she shook her head. Pictures aren't worth anything anymore, you must not be content with that, she kept telling herself. It wasn't a far travel to where she was going, in-fact it was very short. But it wasn't the physical element that made the journey hard, it was trying to catch up to everything that was running in her mind.

Trying to catch up to that rock….

She looked up and saw it was cloudy.

-end of part 3

Part 4

Clark felt the strong pinch of a spider strike the back of his neck. He quickly plucked it from his neck smashing and dismembering it as he threw what was left of it back towards the ground. And for the first time in the longest time he got up. He looked around, looked at himself. This wasn't who he wanted to be. What was he going to do stay there all his life? Did it hurt? Of course but loneliness hurts more than fear, and he realized that, he just was hoping that maybe there was something beyond loneliness, something that didn't hurt. There is and it's death. But that's no answer only solution. So he began to walk, placing his grimy, dirty hands into his tattered pockets, he walked to the only thing that symbolized his emotions.

Lana withstanding all the punches and fight entered into the room too see an all too sad Lex Luthor stare back at her, almost pathetically as he sat there in the wheelchair. He was so powerful she had always though, graceful with each stride and now. His eyes were hardened, his body shadowed, his will heightened. She didn't know whether he seemed weaker or scarier. She came closer in hopes to see some good still in him, and she did, hanging on, stretching, reaching, but it was there. Yet here she was with all her troubles and they seemed almost small compared to what Lex has gone through. But then again everyone else thought she was strong, just like everyone else thought Lex was a crook.

"No," Lex said bluntly to her, his hands clasp within themselves, holding up his chin. He peered at her for another second and nodded, "Definetly no," he reiterated.

Lana looked at him perplexed, "What do you mean no."

"I mean no, I'm not going to give you a way to go look for him. And no you shouldn't be looking for him." Lex grinned.

Lana stood there stunned, "but, I…, I …, how?" She blinked.

Lex chuckled though Lana didn't find any of this amusing. "You're not going to find yourself out there." He simply stated.

"I'm not finding myself!" She exclaimed, "I'm going to go look for Clark!"

"You're searching for him all wrong," Lex looked down and closed his eyes.

"How do you know?" Lana pleaded, "How? How do you know!? Where is he?" She came closer towards him.

Lex stood up leaning against the wood on his desk, and then he let it go. Lana was about to hurry over to him to catch him, but he didn't need it. He slowly, gingerly, painfully, weakly walked towards Lana, grimacing with each step. "Love isn't about the destination Lana," He finally reached her and looked carefully into her eyes, "It's about the journey. You've been on the journey for a long time and will continue to do so. If you press you'll lose the journey forever and then and only then will you reach the destination. Don't reach the destination Lana, keep on the journey," He began to make his way back to his chair.

Lana watched him. She wasn't sure what it all meant but she knew that somehow she had to figure it out. That Lex knew something she didn't, but she didn't question further. She waited till he sat there and started inhaling deeply trying to regain his strength, "Lex."

Lex turned up and looked at her, "Take care, love comes in more forms than one," she turned and exited out of the estate.

Lana entered into the graveyard sighing to the night air. Her jacket was pressed tight and her knees were weak. She was headed to see her parents, the only one real thing that was constant in her life, their death. She found that to be truly depressing and morbid yet true, truth was always painful. That's why one keeps things hidden. She didn't know why she was going to see them. She figured she had talked to everyone else already and yet was left with more questions than answers, just this time the questions were within herself. She started to wonder if maybe she'd ever see Clark again. He may never come back and even if she went to search, who knows where he could be. He could even be dead and she wouldn't even know. She looked at the frighten trees as their limbs cringed to the night's chill. She rubbed her eyes, stinging them slightly and then took a few glances over to what appeared to be someone praying. She got closer. Clark? The leather was ripped and torn; his face was darkened from a slight beard, his hair curled into its own forest. He sat there, and she moved in closer, silently as though not to disturb him from his actions. She finally reached the point to where she could hear him, she listened as closely as she could to what Clark was saying.

I deliver thee from the sky

To be different in others eyes

I deliver thee from the sky

No salutation, only goodbyes

And he shall tremor from our questions

That bore itself upon his trip

Hither to the motion of answer

With no knowledge within equipped

We'll haunt him with secrets

And disguise them like gifts

We'll hope only for happiness

But make him steel

So his heart cannot lift…

She watched as the strongest person she ever knew in her whole life. A person that was always there for her and believed in her, she watched as that person sobbed as though he had been fighting hope his entire life. She made her way closer and created a rustling sound. She looked as Clark peered over at her. She gulped not knowing what to expect. She wanted to run and lunge at him, smother him so he could never escape her, yet she couldn't move. She watched as he hid his face almost ashamed, "Clark," she gasped. She knew that to him he thought of his appearance as anything but pleasing. "Clark what happened?"

He shook his head, "Can I tell you a secret?"

All of this was too familiar to her. Even more so in what she was about to say. It was weird how the past always seems to repeat yet it's never the same the next time around. It's a refreshing habit unless your past is full of tragedy and upon that thought Lana cringed, "I am the Fort Knox of secrets".

-End of part 4

Part 5

"How do you tell ever know if love will be enough to lead to acceptance?" Clark asked still looking away, looking strictly at the ground.

Lana started to approach him slowly again and kneeled down behind him. She placed her hand lightly onto his shoulder. His smell was awful, what had happened to him? Why did he put himself through this? What was he trying to prove? "I guess you just have to tell them the truth and hope it's enough".

Clark looked up but still didn't face her, "And if it's not?"

She snuck around to the front of him. She looked sorrowfully in his eyes. His eyes seemed pale. He looked so fearful, so tender. As though a slight breeze would break him into a thousand pieces, yet deep inside she pondered if he was made of steel. Sometimes it only seemed that nothing could ever hurt him, but here he was in desperate need of affection. "Clark, you have to let your heart speak. If your heart tells you it's okay than you must trust it. You can't be afraid forever, if you are, than you'll never get anything out of life." She watched as his lonesome eyes peered up at her. They held her there, held her still, all the emotion and pain she saw within them overwhelmed her. She was breathless; she felt his melancholy head rest itself against her shoulder. Her body instinctively wrapped her arms around him, rubbed his back told him it would be okay. She had broken him down. Melted him, into what she wasn't sure, time would tell.

After what seemed like an eternity yet not long enough he finally pushed himself away from her and started to stare up at the sky, "Remember when you were young Lana and," he paused as though he wasn't sure of his verbiage like he wasn't sure on whether to continue talking or just go back to holding her.

She took his hand, "It's okay Clark, I remember." He hadn't even told her what she needed to remember but it didn't matter. She was just trying to be supportive. A quality that lacked in most people, something that was beyond almost any description of beauty, to be lovely is one thing, to see the pain in others is something much more. "Remember when you used to believe in something that you know were beyond being real," he took a second to think of an example, "Like the tooth-fairy or a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Something that at that age and being so naïve you could almost believe in but knew that it was just fantasy, yet you still felt and reacted as though it were true."

Lana nodded, "Often," she glanced over in the direction of her parent's grave, "I would hear children praise their parents as though they could do anything. As though they could lift a building, or melt steel, but I knew better. I knew it wasn't true, but" she looked down. "I wondered if my parents were alive if I wouldn't think of them like that, if maybe fantasy isn't so hard to believe."

Clark took a deep breath and rubbed her hand. "You can only hope," he simply stated. She looked up into his eyes and realized that he was speaking for himself. That he hoped too that if he knew his real parents that he would think that about them.

"Remember the tornado and how you thought you saw me. I was there and that I protected you," Clark took her hand with both of his and held it tight, "You weren't seeing things. That was me," he stated taking a deep breath.

"But how?" Lana breathed. Her face impossible to figure out, her lip curled slightly, her eyes holding confusion.

"You didn't believe that Clark Kent was just some handsome farm-boy did ya?" He tried to joke and lighten the mood but it didn't work.

"I…I knew you…, you were up there, but" Her words were scattered like a little kid's toys across a floor, "You told me it would be okay. You told me, I believed you. I believed."

"Do you still believe?" He asked her tempted to kiss her, tempted to ravish her. His heart and soul burned for her, he needed her to believe. He needed this to be easier on him, on her, on both of them.

"Always, but how?" She wiped her eyes on her upper arm.

"I'm not like everyone else Lana. I'm different. I have certain abilities, certain gifts." He gulped about to tell her everything his heart would let him tell.

-end of part 5

Part 6

There are certain times in life when things don't seem real. They're things that you're not sure if you'll remember forever, or will get lost in the haze of time. You just leave with the impression that you want to remember and to remember, but sometimes emotions fog out impressions, our promises. Like seeing the beach for the first time in your life, you tell yourself to remember this moment for ever, exactly how it was. Anymore after that you can barely remember the smell of the salty air and the sound of the orchestrating waves. This seemed like one of those moments. Where the wind sounded like a violin somewhere off in the distance, and the harder you tried to listen the more room it left for everything else to pass you by.

Clark had often wondered what he would say. What it would feel like to know longer have to hide. Would his character change without his ongoing questioning of letting his secret out, would it make him more open? Maybe Clark's niceness was a product of him always questioning. Maybe his depression and loneliness was because of questioning as well.

"I was in that tornado with you. I made you sure you made it back safe; I'll always make sure you're safe. Even if I wasn't like who I am, I would risk my life again and again to make sure there would be another day where I or anyone could look into you lovely eyes. It brings hope, and that's one thing even I cannot do."

Lana wiped her eyes, "Clark what are you saying?"

Clark took several moments and looked around on the ground till he found a very sharp stick. One that would tear someone's skin in an instant leaving them with a huge gash, but he just simply held it high over his arm and then struck it down into him will all his might.

"Clark!" Lana screamed.

Clark proceeded to pick up another sharp stick and rolled up his shirt sleeve, in doing so he tore the fragile dirt written fabric. He held his arm out and proceeded to drive the stick into it in a drill like motion, but then stopped after seeing the horrific look on Lana's face. He removed the wood, "I'm alright," he smiled, "See not even a scratch."

She took her hand and brushed it over where he should have a wound. "How?" She asked.

He looked down and shrugged, "I don't know really. I'm just indestructible really. I also have tremendous strength far beyond any normal person, or any person for that matter."

She shook her head, "I've seen you at times weak. Times when you've been beaten," she took a moment and thought, "What about the time Whitney hung you out in the field, if you're so mighty then why did you let him do it?" She asked.

He grinned slightly, "I know you believe me because you said why instead of how," he reached over and with his finger left a trail of touches around her neck. "Your necklace, you see the meteor rocks make me weak. He had placed it around my neck and that made me pretty much," he sighed.

The more she became scared the more inquisitive she became, "When did all of this began to happen?" she asked.

Clark took a moment, "Well they come one by one and seem to develop more as I get older."

"They?" she repeated.

Clark nodded and sighed, "Remember that fire at the Talon," he didn't wait for her to answer because he knew she did. "Well I did that, but not on purpose," he pleaded.

"Clark!" She yelled.

"I didn't know how to control it! I, I, when I find out something new about myself I get scared. I wonder if I'll ever know how to handle it and each time it gets harder and harder, but I didn't mean to cause all the havoc I caused. I trust you I can control it now. I can control all my abilities."

She was almost afraid to ask if there was anything else but she did anyway.

He simply nodded, "I can move at super speeds faster than well I've out-ran bullets before," he gulped, "I can also kinda see through things like x-rays kinda."

She raised her brow, "What do you mean kinda?"

He put his hands up in surrender like fashion, "Trust me I've never once used them on you or anyone else for my own pleasure or anything like that. I only use it when absolutely necessary to help someone or save their life. You have to trust me."

She nodded, "I trust you. Is that everything?" she asked.

He nodded, looking down, "That's the horrible truth," though he left out the spaceship and the whole alien story. He'd tell her eventually but he wasn't sure if she could handle this much. Really now thinking back he wished that he would've just said maybe one power instead of all of them. He just looked up at her sadly, "Do you still love me? Do you still want to be with me?" He couldn't see her. His vision was clouded by the tears in his eyes. All he was going on was her words pleading that they were a yes.

She looked away sorrowfully, and took a deep breath. "I still believe in you."

That was all she said as Clark heard her footsteps leave him. Now he knew how it felt. How it felt to be abandoned. He grabbed his chest in pain as all his emotions seemed to be crushing him. He cried out in agony and pounded the ground. He felt more like a monster than a man. Yet only a man could feel this heartbroken. Quickly the pounding stopped and his hands sunk slowly into the dirt. Then his forehead struck the cold ground. He couldn't leave his hunched position, any movement would tear his emotions anymore and kill him, and he could feel it. His heart was shredding, he compressed his body more to try and keep it in place and yet the cruel thought of it all, the horrible curse was… he didn't hate her. In-fact he loved and longed for her more now than ever and the only thing that ran through his mind were lovely images of her smiling, and those eyes…. Those eyes….

-end of part 6

Part 7

When Clark arrived home there was a long pause at an open door. Then there was acceptance as the Kents opened their arms and allowed him in. There's only so long someone can stay mad at someone. There's only so long that one can stay anger, especially towards people they love. After awhile faults fade away into forgiveness and if forgiveness never comes, then it melts over into a sea of tears. No words were spoken. They looked at each other paused as though it were a dream and then continued as though it were a good dream. The Kents had wished their son home, wished for his safety, wished it could all be put in the past. They knew that Clark was just running from a fear, and they all at one point of another could be blamed for the same fault. Though such a huge consequence was because of his actions without Clark's ship who knows if a pregnancy would be even possible, let alone how it wasn't natural and maybe it was just a sign of something to not be, a test to their love for their son.

Clark was clean for the first time. His sins washed from his skin. His hair was light, his face was clean, and his eyes were open but searching as they looked out from the loft. Clark looked onward at the desperate night that sang its quiet melody to the darken ground below. Clark lightly tapped the telescope sending it twirling around in a circle as though it were a ballerina, the femininity of it all caught itself in his throat. It brought back the visions of her, him, them, knowing looking at each other as though the world was just a game they had conquered.

Clark looked out at the stars and wondered what it would take to reach one. Would it burn? Would he be destroyed if he got close enough to one? What would that sense of pain be like? Was it warmer then…. Those eyes….

He stared and stared until finally succumbing to the one thing he could never defeat, sleep.

All my little plans and schemes,
lost like some forgotten dreams,
seems that all I really was doing
was waiting for you.

Lana looked out her bedroom window, pondering, wondering, thinking, wishing, for things that seemed not possible. How could one be so different? How could she fall for someone who deceived her so? It was all to her luck, her curse that such an occurrence has happened. Yet, she didn't hate him. No, how could she? Every image of him seemed so innocent, so child-like as though he were too naïve to know of the impact of his own presence. Still it was her that drove such a painful secret out of him, but it was still her right to know. It wasn't his fault. There was nothing wrong with him, was there? He was so different…. So alien….

There was a sudden knock at Lana's door, "Come in," she said, quickly turning her head towards the door. Chloe walked in looking around as though she had never entered Lana's room before. She sat on the other side of the room in a chair that was tucked underneath a desk. "You've been rather absent lately," Chloe commented.

Lana grinned, "Like you to keep track of details," she paused thinking about her comment, "sorry".

"Something wrong?" Chloe asked though with Lana they'll always be a deep knowing that something will always remain wrong in one way or another.

"What would you do if something you thought for so long was what you wanted for and then at the last moment that thing totally changed?" Lana asked.

Chloe blinked, "For once it doesn't sound like we're talking about Clark."

Lana nodded, though truly they were. "No we're not."

Chloe thought for a second, "Whenever something different comes into out lives it's our first notion to be afraid and scared of it. We aren't sure what will come from it. We don't know if it can hurt us or harm us in someway. Yet, more often than not it can be the total opposite. We shouldn't think of the harm that new things or different things can make in our lives but the joy and happiness they can bring to it. I guess it would all depend on how you see it," Chloe yawned. "But that's enough philosophy for me," she smiled, "I gotta' get the bed. Goodnight."

"Night," Lana said, and then right before Chloe left she told her thanks.

Lana rested her eyes back towards the night sky. She was right to be afraid. Yet, how afraid was Clark? How scared would she be if she had such powers? He even told her that it was scary and that sometimes he'd get new powers and not know how to control them, gifts he called them. Gifts are something you are proud to get, something that someone else gives you. They don't seem so much like gifts. Then again, how many times was she saved by Clark probably because of his abilities? How many times have others been saved because of him? Maybe they were gifts. She didn't know, she felt so confused, so frustrated.

It didn't matter though. It didn't matter what Clark could do or how many times he could leave her grasp. The real and only question was, did she love him? She tried then to find a star out in the sky but it seemed to be too cloudy.

Just like little girls and boys,
playing with their little toys.
Seems like all they really were doing
was waiting for love.

-end of part 7

Last Part – Part 8

They met at the Talon, fate had called it. Though whether fate had called them to spend the rest of their lives together? The verdict was still out. Clark entered his head low, his hands deep in his pockets, looking like a man who had already lost. Lana turned away her simple sweater and blue jeans, comparable to the simplicity of Clark's flannel and slacks. They looked like summer and winter trying to meet. He couldn't look at her. He couldn't face her. Any sight of her would grab his heart and tear his mind. She was all too beautiful for his own hope to hold. And she didn't look at him. She couldn't, because she still didn't know on whether she was mad or just upset at him. He finally broke the silence, "So is this it?"

Lana let out a long sigh, "I don't know."

"I can't control your emotions Lana, I can only tell you how I feel," Clark moved himself over into a chair, his hands still in his pockets his head still low, he wished he wouldn't leave the same way he entered but something deep down told him he would. It wasn't his fault nor was it hers. But if you look at a painting long enough and believe a beautiful artist brushed it, and there's heart and soul behind it. Then turn around and say it was created by some spilled paint, it's logical for there to be an outcry of anger and self-hatred. For one never likes to think of themselves as gullible and vulnerable and as soon as they are portrayed that way, they feel as the world they trusted in his destroyed.

Trust is a dangerous thing. Most things in life are dangerous, but trust is something that can hardly ever be gained back once it's lost. It's something that must be fought for and then almost without ease can fade away. And it fights almost every single fiber of human nature to stay honest. For every story and fable tale we've ever heard was due to dishonesty, due to the truth being stretched or lack there of the truth. Why? Mostly because we like things to be more exciting, we like things to be different from time to time. The known pattern of our daily hum-drum life was something that many didn't thrive for. Yet, for others it was everything they ever wanted. It was the classic battle between the dreamers and the realist.

Of course Clark's dishonesty fell to him like Atlas's punishment to have to hold the world upon his shoulders. Many times Clark felt like Atlas, for it isn't uncommon for one to hear the phrase, "With great power comes great responsibility." Something that Clark had all the time yet could never balance. You were supposed to be able to use your great power to balance out the responsibility but Clark never understood the equation or at least struggled to abide to it. Yet his strive to do so was more honorable than Marc Antony's speech for his befallen general.

And here he was with maybe the only thing he had ever hoped for in life, tugging at him like a thin thread and every passing second the thread became more and more fragile, losing its composure. Yet could he ever be upset with her? No. Dissapointed? Yes but only in himself. Though not his fault he must learn to endure the hardships that came with him, "With great power comes great responsibility." Yet through all these thoughts none was killing him more than the prediction of what she would say and how he should react. Yet mysteries are life's drugs.

Lana finally looked at him. She didn't want to take piety on him, but she couldn't help it. She wanted to be mad at him. She wanted to yell every curse word she could think of. She wanted to let him know how angry she was for him lying to her for so long, yet none of those things came to heart. No, instead every loving memory of theirs passed through her heart and aroused the embedded images that were dug deep within her mind.

Then she remembered the day he left her. She remembered the pain he brought to her. And she also remembered something she said to herself after he left, something that stuck with her every restless night. Every tossing turning night as she stared at the dark opaque ceiling she recited it to herself in her head, over and over it ran through her head. "I'll believe in Clark Kent, no matter what."

Could she turn back now? She looked at him more, did she still believe in him? Was it wrong to stop believing in him. She got closer to him. She walked up and sat across from him, she ducked her head and looked into his eyes. He didn't move but he didn't need to. She saw it. Somewhere in that mixed head of struggle and power, where his abilities would make the most impossible of task seem simple, somewhere deep in there she saw fear. With everything he had, he still possessed fear. Something that was sustained in every person's life, something that always needed to be eased by another, and she was the only person who saw it in Clark Kent.

From this moment on I know
exactly where my life will go.
Seems that all I really was doing
was waiting for love.

Don't need to be afraid,
no need to be afraid.
It's real love, it's real.
Yes it's real love, it's real.

Clark felt her warm hand grab his arm and drag his hand out of his pocket. He then felt that same touch spread across his fingers and enwrapped around them, it was the loveliest lace he ever felt. He looked up to her but he didn't see a smile just a face of acceptance, then she uttered, "Come we'll have many other nights in which to be upset."

And then he stood up with her and with his hand still holding hers, they left the Talon and entered the cold – cloudless night.

- The End