Clark woke up slowly, hair rumpled and body completely relaxed. It took him a moment to figure out where he was, but after sitting up in bed, Lana's bedroom came into view. Contrary to expectation, she wasn't lying next to him. She wasn't even in the room. Judging by the amount of light coming through the window, it was still late afternoon. They hadn't napped for long. Clark closed his eyes and listened. He picked up Lana's heartbeat and got up, following the sound. He found her in the kitchen.
Lana was leaning against the counter with a glass of water, staring blankly into the sink. Clark could hear her heart thumping wildly in her chest and her breath coming out in short, shaky gasps. Her grip was tight on the glass as she raised it and took a few gulps.
"What happened?" asked Clark softly, stopping a foot away from her. She looked up at him with tired eyes, wet and red above tear-stained cheeks. Her voice came out much stronger and clearer than he expected.
"Bad dream. Dad, he…" Lana took a deep breath and shook her head. "Forget it. I don't want to talk about it."
Clark nodded. Reaching out, he put a hand on her arm. Lana was wearing her Central City University t-shirt, now damp from sweat and a little water she'd spilled while drinking. She didn't seem to care much. "What do you need?"
Lana drained her glass and left it in the sink. She didn't meet his eyes. "Hold me?"
She didn't wait for him to answer. He wasn't wearing a shirt, so she clawed lightly at his sides and pulled him to her. Clark wrapped his arms around her as she did the same, but it wasn't enough for her. Lana squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the dream to go away.
"More," she whispered, squeezing him.
Clark tightened his hold on her and she nodded against him. Lana hated feeling like this, like she'd been spending all her energy running toward something only to realize she'd never actually gone anywhere. One bad dream and she was a crying, shivering mess. She'd woken up feeling trapped, suffocated by how warm Clark was. Bolting out of bed, Lana spiraled with the fresh memory of her nightmare and now guilt at needing to be away from him for a while. It had nothing to do with him, but it made her feel worse nonetheless. Had Clark been awake he would have wanted to help any way he could, and it would hurt him to realize that he couldn't.
Lana had made a beeline to the kitchen and sat on the tiled floor before folding her knees up and sobbing as quietly as she could. She didn't want to wake him. Why would she? Lana couldn't begin to explain everything that happened or anything she felt. She never told him how bad it got back home before she graduated high school. His parents had only heard anything secondhand, and the one time Clark noticed a bruise she'd made him swear on their friendship he wouldn't say a word.
It was the only time they'd ever argued. He was angry, even close to tears, but she'd made him promise. Lana wasn't even sure why. She loved that he'd had the reaction he did; Lana desperately wanted him to storm off and go through with what he'd wanted to do. But she told him not to anyway. The promise had two conditions: that he'd never tell or imply that anything was wrong to anyone, and that he wouldn't do anything about it himself. Sitting there now on the kitchen floor, she cried harder knowing he'd kept his promise.
But Lana was certain he wouldn't have promised if he'd known everything. Clark's need to keep her safe was too strong. So she hadn't told him how her father had almost killed her mother once, or how her mother had kicked her out when Lana mentioned that one of her friends identified as trans. Lana certainly hadn't mentioned the night she was locked in the storm cellar. This last one had been the template of her nightmare, mixing memory with fiction. Holding onto Clark, she steeled herself, jaw clenched in anger at her own brain for sending her spiraling in a muddle of fear and hatred. Once she'd calmed down enough, Lana actually wanted him there. Of course, that's when he showed up.
Eventually she calmed down, gradually loosening her grip on him until she felt strong enough to let go. Lana saw the conflict in Clark's eyes. Knowing him, he was worried and he wasn't sure what to do. She pulled him down and kissed him softly.
"Thank you," she murmured. Slipping her hand into his and holding tightly, Lana led him back to her room. She kissed the back of his hand and pulled him back to bed with her so she could settle in with her head on his chest. His heart was beating slowly and steadily, and she stayed silent listening to it. Clark didn't speak.
Lana thought about her father and people like him. She thought about her mother, poster woman for being both victim and oppressor. Wrongdoing could be so complicated. Lana did her best to simplify it, making her own code as easy to follow as possible. Good intentions and good actions together – anything else wasn't good enough. But it was so difficult. Sometimes you can't tell a bad action from a good one until after it's done. Sometimes the bad seems worth it as long as it produces a good outcome.
Lana considered her place in LuthorCorp. Every billion-dollar corporation she'd heard of had gotten to or stayed where it was because it exploited people on a large scale. She knew that the executives at LuthorCorp had to have done the same. Despite her disapproval, however, Lana still chose to be involved with them because of what it could do for her. Did that make her complicit, just as bad as those of whom she disapproved even if in their shoes she would have done differently? Or was she immune to blame, because she didn't have their power and therefore couldn't truly affect anything on her own? Lana wanted to be a good person, but the possibility of becoming just like those executives didn't seem too far off. The allure of power and influence was strong, and that scared her.
Lana knew she was self-centered, and why wouldn't she be? It always seemed more acceptable to the world to do things for oneself than to care about other people. So many did whatever they wanted as long as the consequences didn't affect them. Lana was a victim of such ideology, the collateral damage when people in her life couldn't be bothered to care. Why couldn't she just look out for herself and do the same?
Lana wished it would be guilt from doing wrong, but she knew better. It was because of Clark. If she acted as selfishly as she craved he would see her as less, and she couldn't entertain that possibility. The risk was too high, and so was his moral standard. The more she disregarded others the more he'd stop looking at her like she put the stars he loved so much in the sky. Nobody else looked at her like that. She would never give that up.
But Lana was afraid she was being selfish with Clark. She loved how much he valued her and worked to prove him right, and yet she knew it would take a long time for her to change into the person he already thought she was. He wore rose-colored glasses and Lana prayed he wouldn't take them off. But a part of her was terrified she'd fall complacent in her selfishness. Maybe I should break up with him, she thought. It would be better for him in the long run...
Lana knew she was improving. There was palpable evidence. But she didn't feel like a good person. Doing the right thing and feeling the right way wouldn't be so difficult if she were. Lana wished there was a way to be sure, a way to always know. She wished that it was easy. She wished she could prevent all the bad that was going to happen, for her and for everyone else. But she was just one person who had neither power nor influence. She was only human.
And that's what made her feel the worst, now lying in bed next to him. Clark, at his core, wanted what she wanted and had the power to make it happen. She thought it would be perfect, something that would bring them together, and yet she held a pit in her stomach. Lana never told him (probably because she hadn't been honest with herself), but she wasn't truly comfortable with him in the spotlight. There was something about being one of the few who knew about Clark's powers that made her feel special, and even though he was building another persona for the public, Lana knew it meant sharing him and losing that exclusivity. Every time he left to fly around felt like a step further away from her. It hurt, but she could never ask him to stop. It wouldn't be fair.
"Do you ever think about stopping people from doing the wrong thing?" Lana asked quietly, looking up at his face. "Making sure bad people don't do bad things."
Clark stared up at the ceiling. "I can't make anyone's decisions for them, Lana."
"But you have the power to protect people from other people. When you go flying around…most of the time it's natural disasters or accidents, but do you ever save people from danger, when another person is the immediate cause?" Clark sighed, hesitating. Lana prompted more. "I've never heard you talk about cases like that."
Clark closed his eyes and let his head drop back down to the pillow. Normally when flying around he looked for big forms of danger that people couldn't easily get themselves out of, but he hadn't really made an effort to help individual would-be victims on a case-by-case basis. If he stumbled upon those kinds of scenarios, he did what he could. Ignoring them would always be wrong, so he had to, but nothing beyond that.
"It happens, but not often," said Clark. "It's not something I actively look for."
Lana's voice was almost a whisper. "Why not?"
Clark took a deep breath and continued to stare at the ceiling. "The more I meddle and the more I use force, the less I'll be trusted. It's the police's business to stop victim-oriented crimes, and there's a reason people don't trust them."
"All the better reason for you to get in the middle on an individual basis," said Lana. "You won't hurt people or abuse your power. Keep helping civilians without hurting them, and they'll love you. And the fact that there's only one of you makes you more trustworthy. There'd be no wondering whether the person coming to help them is actually good or not."
In truth, fighting crime was the first thing Clark thought of when deciding to go home and start on this path. It was evident that law enforcement didn't do what they were supposed to, but still he was hesitant to take the law into his own hands on a regular basis.
"I agree, especially when it comes to immediate danger," said Clark, sitting up. "But what about those who do things that only hurt themselves, or are destructive in ways that don't hurt others? Vandalism, drug use...what do you think I should do then?"
Clark looked at Lana and could tell she was avoiding his gaze. He thought about the difference between law and morality and how their goals sometimes opposed one another. He wondered if Lana was thinking the same.
"I don't know," Lana said finally. "Your goal is to help people, right? Not uphold the law. It's not great advice, but I'd say do whatever you think is best in the moment. I know you'll always make the right call."
Clark understood why Lana had started this conversation. His goals were about people, on both an individual and collective scale. Coming from a place of personal experience, she was trying to make sure he didn't forget the former while focusing on the latter. But still he worried.
"What if it goes wrong? I don't want to insert myself too much and risk enduring the push-back. If the world doesn't respond to me with trust, they will respond to me with fear. The implications of that alone are terrifying. I'll be labeled as dangerous, and it'll give others the excuse to give that label to anyone different too. Not just other humans but possible aliens too. There's got to be others here besides me. Me being the only one seems unlikely."
Lana nodded slowly and then smirked at him. "Then...don't do anything scary or intense."
"I have, like, ten different super powers, Lana."
"Only half of them have physical effects on the environment so only those count as being able to scare people." Lana was using her science-y voice that Clark liked. She snuggled closer to him and kissed his shoulder. "You're thinking too much like an alien, babe. Just be your normal, fun, chipper self. Most of the work is already done for you."
"What do you mean?" Clark asked, brow creasing.
Lana looked up at him. "You look like any unassuming white guy. And you're fucking gorgeous. Pretty as hell. A bona fide cutie-patootie. A beautiful male specimen-"
"Okay, I get it," Clark chuckled, nudging his girlfriend.
"The whole world's basically made so you're the easiest to trust. All you have to do is not fuck it up."
Lana kissed him softly and reassumed her position at his side. The juxtaposition of her nonchalance against her recognition of the gravity of the matter did wonders to ease his mind. Not for the first time, Clark was overwhelmed with gratitude and appreciation for her place in his life. However, Lana's current attitude differed greatly from how he'd found her after waking up, and he was still worried about her. But he didn't want to ruin the mood, so he didn't push it.
"Thank you," he said softly. "I've been so preoccupied with thinking ahead, with the big picture, that I almost forgot it's all made up of small parts. The world is one thing but every single person, every single life is a little world of its own too."
Lana nodded, giving him a small smile. "We're going to need you for the big stuff, and I know you can't come out as this powerful figure bent on controlling everything, but...don't be afraid to get down on the ground with us either."
People were often too preoccupied with their own lives to notice when others needed them. Lana wanted him to be the person who noticed, listen for anyone and everyone, because he was the only one who could.
Lana knew Clark could pick up on the fact that it was personal for her, and she was grateful he didn't mention it. She sighed contentedly at the ease with which Clark had responded. The subject was heavier and she'd felt more uptight than her tone had suggested, but he addressed it with the gravity it needed. Lana hadn't expected Clark to admit his faults so quickly. People didn't normally do that. She sure as hell didn't, at least not out loud. He'd have to teach her that one day.
"I love you," she whispered, looking at his face. "You know that, right?"
Clark held an odd look. "I…do now?"
Lana laughed and kissed him twice quickly.
"I love you too, by the way," he said.
"Of course you do," Lana breathed, rolling over. She was smirking, like always, but also blushing in the golden light of the sunset streaming from the windows. Hearing the words made her feel fuzzy. She needed them. "I mean, have you met me? How could you not?"
He rolled his eyes, chuckling. "Way to cheapen the moment."
"Confidence does not cheapen anything," said Lana, swatting his arm. "In fact, it does the opposite. It…what's the opposite of 'cheapen?'"
Clark thought for a moment. "Um…bolster? Enhance? Augment? Upraise?"
Lana stretched out on the bed, taking up much more space than she needed and pushing against her boyfriend playfully. "Yeah, that."
Clark rolled over onto his side and pulled Lana to face him. They were only a few inches apart now, and he leaned forward to kiss her forehead. She snuggled in closer to him and stayed that way for a while, basking in the silence diminished only by the pang in her heart.