thanks for the feedback. you know i love every bit of it!

so here's chapter 10. i'm glad so many of you are catching those parallels between the first installment of this trilogy and now. and those breadcrumbs and easter eggs are still pretty important, too!

---------------------------------------

Author: Alison

Disclaimer: Characters belong to DC, WB/CW, AlMiles, etc., etc., etc. I only own the story, so please don't take that away from me. My cat also tried to steal my "I Heart Bo Duke" tshirt when I returned from DukesFest. I told her we should race for it. She drove Rosco's police car whilst I borrowed John Schneider's own General Lee. Needless to say, I won. Bo Duke would be so proud.

------------------------------------

Chapter 10

That little dirt lane was so familiar that it sometimes found its way into her dreams. And it was gradually feeling more like home each time she remembered it.

She could feel her stomach doing flips. Was anyone even home? Mrs. Kent should've been out running errands or taking care of some political duties. And Clark…well. Who knew where he could've been?

There were no vehicles in sight as she pulled up to the bright yellow farmhouse. Good. There'd be no witnesses. This would make it much easier.

She cut the engine, stepped out of the car and walked towards the house. It was only early afternoon, so maybe they were both out for the day.

She could only hope.

The wooden steps of the old house creaked under her feet as she made her way onto the porch. She squinted through the glass into the kitchen. No lights on, so hopefully no one at home.

Grasping the door knob, she slowly turned it and quietly stepped into the house, closing the door gently behind her.

Why do people still leave their doors unlocked in this day and age? No. Strike that. Why do people in Smallville, the freak capital of the world, still leave their doors unlocked?

She shook her head even though she was grateful the Kents were still trusting enough to never lock their door.

"Now, if I was Mrs. Kent's box of family photos, where would I be?"

She stood in the kitchen, the faint light filtering in through the windows, her hands on her hips as she gently bit her lip, her eyes searching all around. She slowly walked into the living room, carefully scanning every bookshelf, every nook and cranny, every crevice. She walked in between the sofa and coffee table.

Maybe it was Mr. Kent guiding her. Maybe it was her mother, too.

But something told her to sit.

She slowly sat on the edge of the sofa. It only took a few seconds for her eyes to find it. But there it was, right where she should've known. They were right where she kept her own.

She reached for the large old shoebox on the shelf under the coffee table. Her mouth fell open and she laughed softly when she saw just what type of shoebox it was.

On the end read Tan Cowboy Work Boots, sz. 11.

Her heart sank as she took off the lid and laid it on the table.

Mrs. Kent was right. There were reminders everywhere of him.

And part of her found something right in the fact that it was his old shoebox holding the family photos.

She scooted up to the edge of the couch to get a better look inside the dusty box. Very gingerly, she reached in and picked up a handful of the photos.

The first one made her laugh. It was a picture of Mr. and Mrs. Kent when they were very young, probably fresh out of college. Mr. Kent was holding a sprig of mistletoe above her head, his eyes closed and his lips puckered as Mrs. Kent rolled her eyes and smiled.

She laid it to the side as her smile faded when she saw the next photo in her hand.

Mr. Kent held a young Clark in his arms, tickling him. The beaming Kent smile was spread across both their faces.

She sighed softly as she stared at it.

They were such a family. Such a perfect family.

She once again secretly wished she could've been a part of them.

"Lois?"

Oh, no, no, no. It couldn't be.

She quickly stood, dropping the pictures back into the box and tossing the lid back on top. She tucked her hands in the back pockets of her jeans as she turned to face him.

That's it, Lane. Just be cool. You can handle this. You can handle him.

"Hey, Smallville. What's up?"

What's up? That's the best she could do?

And Chloe wanted her to be an investigative reporter. Ha! She'd have to figure out a better way to act undercover because, so far, she sucked.

"Lois, what are you doing here?"

Stall! Stall!

"Um, I was just… Uh…well. You see, Smallville. I was going to--"

The screen door slammed as Mrs. Kent staggered in with both arms full of brown paper grocery bags. Mrs. Kent froze when she walked in. She slowly put one bag on the counter as Clark helped her set the others on the island.

"Oh, hey, Lois."

Oh crap.

And then there were two.

Lois cleared her throat and avoided all eye contact, instead choosing to look anywhere but the two of them.

"Hey…Mrs. Kent. I was just--"

"Is that part of that project you're working on, Lois?"

Project? What?

Did Chloe talk?

He looked from his mother and back to Lois.

"Project? What project?"

What was going on? What should she say?

She was usually pretty good at thinking on her feet.

But he was there. And once again he somehow managed to screw up her whole thought process.

Mrs. Kent set her keys on the counter as she spoke, then waved her hand in the air.

"Oh, just some project for uh, what was it again, Lois? A special feature about Jonathan for the Smallville Ledger?"

A what for the what?

Oh just go with it, Lane. It's better than anything you've come up with so far.

She smiled, relieved there was finally an excuse.

"Right. Yes, a project for the Ledger."

"Well, you better get to work on it, then. Don't let us keep you."

What the…?

Okay…just pick up the box and run.

"Right. Yes, I will...get to work." She turned, picked the box up off the coffee table and quickly walked towards the door, completely ignoring his questioning stare as she strolled past him. "Bye."

She briefly made eye contact with his mother as she reached the door. There was something about that woman. Something wonderful. She didn't know how she knew, but… She was grateful.

His mother winked at her as she quickly pushed open the screen door and ran down the steps to her car. She threw open the door and hopped inside, tossing the box on the passenger seat. She stuck the key in the ignition and turned it. She grasped the wheel at ten and two, pausing for a moment to catch her breath and laying her head on her hands.

When did it all become so difficult?

She got caught. She got caught by him! This was just great. Did he know? Could he tell what she was doing? And just how long had he been standing there before he said anything?

Should she even go through with it now?

She raised her head and saw the old blue tractor sitting just outside the barn. Her stream-of-consciousness connected her back to walking into the loft the day of the funeral. She saw the tractor then, too. She remembered driving up one day and seeing him and his father working on it. She then thought about how upset he was in the loft. How he threw the picture of his father. How he cried when she held him.

And how she cried, too.

That's when she knew, no matter what, she had to do it…for him.