Title: Ashamed
Part: XI
Author: Elizabeth Goode
Disclaimer: Don't sue me. I have no money.


This chapter is what I wish would have happened with Clark and Lana - they seemed closer in the China episode than they had for awhile before - this is my wishful thinking and in no way is indicative of any 'shipping on my part. They are friends, nothing more, nothing less - friends who both remember wishing they could have been more at different points. I do prefer Chloe to Lana, but if I were to ship, I'd ship Lois and Clark because that makes the most sense canonically speaking. Anyway, I digress. Read and enjoy.


Lana pulled up in front of the Kent residence, fighting the urge to turn her vehicle around and drive away again. At school, Chloe had informed her that Clark would be returning on Monday. A not-so-subtle hint that if she was going to talk to Clark before he came back, it would have to be this weekend. She had passed Lex on the road, and wondered if he had been to the Kent farm to speak with Clark as well. She opened the door and stepped out into the driveway. Why was this so difficult? It was just Clark, her friend. She was visiting a friend who was recovering from a terrible loss. An image of Clark, standing in stupefied horror at the silhouette of a hanging body, surfaced briefly, and she shuddered. What exactly did you say to a person who had so recently seen something so horrible? For that matter, what did you say to a friend who had begun to feel like a stranger?

She looked toward the house, then to the barn. If she knocked on the door of the house, she would have to make small talk with the Kents. If she checked the barn first, she might be able to avoid confrontation with the parents and just talk to Clark. Not that she disliked the Kents, because she liked them quite a bit. She just wasn't sure if they still liked her. Slowly, she made her way over to the barn, and slipped inside. She could hear music - he must have brought a CD player out to the barn. As she ascended to the loft, she felt her heart constrict at the sight of him.

Clark sat on the sofa, surrounded by textbooks and papers. His eyes were closed, and his head rested against the sofa cushions. Around his neck, he wore a girl's green scarf, and his hands played restlessly with the ends. She knew without asking that it must be Alicia's scarf, and she wanted more than anything to wrap her arms around him and tell him that things would get better, that it would be all right.

"Clark?" She found her voice, but it sounded shaky to her ears.

His eyes flew open, and he was clearly startled.

"Lana? Why are you - I mean, when did you - ?"

She pasted on a smile. "I wanted to see you. You know, before you come back to school on Monday."

"Why?"

His simple question hurt, more than she was prepared to deal with. Why? Because he was her friend, that was why. Because she had had time to process everything that had happened and realize that Clark was truly grieving. Because she liked the way he looked even in baggy jeans and an old, faded, blue sweatshirt. Why was it so easy to answer his question, but so hard to put any of it to words?

"Lots of reasons. You're my friend, Clark. Chloe hasn't said much, but what she did say stuck with me." She reached out to touch his shoulder, squeezing gently. "I don't know what's wrong with our friendship lately - it kind of feels like we're strangers, and that isn't right. I've been ... weird, I guess, with the whole Jason thing, and I sort of lost sight of you." She plucked at the green yarn of the scarf. "I'm sorry about Alicia, Clark. Truly sorry. No one deserves what happened to her, and no one deserves to find something like that less than you do, Clark."

She saw then that his jaw was clenched tightly shut and his eyes were starting to fill with tears. Without a second thought, she pulled him to her tightly in a hug. His tears soaked through the shoulder of her lavender sweater. His raw grief startled her. She simply hadn't realized that his feelings for Alicia ran this deep. It reminded her of when she'd found out that Whitney was dead.

After a few minutes, she let go of him, but kept her hand on his arm. He sniffed, trying to regain his composure.

"I'm sorry, I just - sometimes, I - " He stopped, unable to string together a coherent thought.

"Shhh. You don't have to say anything, Clark. I sort of understand how you feel. Remember when Whitney died, and you were there for me? If you can be as understanding and sweet as you were after all Whitney had done to you, there is no reason at all that I can't do the same."

Clark raised an eyebrow. "There's a difference between Whitney stringing me up as the scarecrow because he thought I was trying to steal his girlfriend, and Alicia trying to kill you because she saw you as a threat."

"Does this mean we're friends again? I mean, you came out here and - and talked to me - are we okay?"

Lana nodded. "We never stopped. Our lives got in the way of each other's there for awhile. We just needed to get back on track. That's what Chloe does best. The kick in the pants to get us moving."

"She got me moving out of the loft." Clark gave Lana a quick hug. "Thanks. At least now I know I don't have to eat lunch by myself on Monday."

"You're with me and Chloe. We'll be your bodyguards - remember, I've been trained in the arts of ass-kicking by Lex Luthor himself."

Lana felt a wave of relief wash over her when Clark smiled.

"For the record? Whitney was right. I was trying to steal his girlfriend."