Rated: K (P.S. I totally cheated on this one, because I didn't finish the thought in time. I put the song on repeat until I was done. Oops!)

Lois Lane didn't believe in regrets. She had them of course, though she tended to lie about it.

She always said that guilt was a waste of time, and regret was just guilt in emotional laymen's terms, and that was true. She said she'd do everything she'd done exactly the same if given the chance, which wasn't true at all. She occasionally longed for a do-over, a blank slate, a reprieve, like anybody else. To her credit though, she didn't dwell on it, or ever give herself over completely to self-pity.

It's the human condition to have moments in one's past that nag in that "what if" sort of way, the one that usually either precludes or follows bouts of drinking and/or utter exhaustion. This is one of Lois'.

She'd just been promoted from cub reporter for the Daily Planet, and basking in the exhilaration that came with no longer having to freelance her way towards a name for herself. She had her own desk, and as dorky as she'd felt, she got the biggest kick out of having her own phone extension.

She remembered every moment of that day perfectly.

She'd stopped for coffee, and thought to herself, how grand I am, with my big girl heels, and my grown up latte (no foam, no sugar, just the facts, ma'am) and my fabulous job. She'd felt on top of the world, queen of existence, the magnanimous embodiment of industry and truth. She made a vow, while filing patiently through the massive, gilded doors of the Planet. She would be a better person too, instead of just the best reporter.

This changed with a glimpse of one face -one fragile, tear-stained, familiar face.

"Lana! What are you doing here?" she tried to cover up the hostility she felt for the younger woman. The same woman, her mind felt it prudent to point out, who had broken her arm without remorse, and faked her own death, leaving a trail of destruction behind her like the wake from a sinking ship. Better person, she screamed back, mentally. Better person!

"I-I came to find Chloe. Is she here? I r-really need to talk to her about something." Her voice was breaking and there was a desperation in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Chloe's going to be out on assignment for most of the morning, as far as I know. Is something wrong?" The big sister in her had to ask, but the rest of her just didn't care and wanted to charge for the closing elevator doors and escape. Screw being a better person, she decided. She was just fine the way she was if it meant she could be out of there quicker. Lana hesitated.

"It's about- well, it's about Clark."

Lois's heart lurched, and her stomach clenched like a fist around the bagel she'd snarfed on her way.

"Is he alright?" Lois started to calculate how long it was going to take to get to Smallville, and already had her cell phone out to call in sick to the job whose foyer she was currently in. "What happened? Is Martha okay?"

Lana's eyes narrowed a bit, and her reluctance became even more pronounced. "No, no, it's nothing like that. They're both… fine, physically."

Lois gritted her teeth, stabbing the "END" button on her phone with unrestrained brutality. "Then what is wrong, Lana? Because I have a meeting with a source (and oh Lois could remember so well the thrill she'd felt, even at that moment, to speak those words and finally have them mean something) in fifteen minutes, and if I'm not sufficiently caffeinated by that time, well… I don't think grouchy Lois will be able to display sufficient professionalism when she questions him."

"It's just… Clark's decided to do something. And I think he's making a mistake." She bit her lip, and pulled something from her purse. "A big one. And it's not one that he can just come back from. It's really going to change things and I don't think he's making the right decision."

"Oh, well…" Lois floundered. She had been under the impression that Lana and Clark were in one of their relationship-jalopy's stalls. "You know Smallville. He's not that bright, but his heart is always in the right place. I'm sure he'll be fine."

Lana didn't look convinced, but she seemed unwilling to say any more. "Look, I have the feeling that he's going to stop by here later. Could you maybe give this to Chloe to give to him?" She thrust an envelope at her. "Or give it to him yourself, if you see him? I'm going to go keep looking. I-I have to go."

She turned smartly on her heel and left, without another word.

"That is one odd tomato," Lois muttered, staring bemusedly after her. "Seriously."

She studied the envelope briefly, noting Clark's name in Lana's flowing script (bet she used her best handwriting and everything, Lois had thought nastily) and shrugged, tucking it into her purse.

It had been barely an hour later when she'd encountered Clark as she was seeing her source out. He'd told her how he was leaving for a while, to get his bearings, and grow up a bit. He planned to travel the world, he'd told her, and decide what kind of man he wanted to be in it. He'd looked so strong just then, though she knew his heart was breaking over the thought of leaving his beloved Smallville, and family behind. He'd assured her that he would call Chloe and let her know that he was sorry he missed her, and told her that he didn't have any timeline for how long he'd be gone for, but that he didn't expect to return for a while. She'd correctly intuited that he was going to be incommunicado indefinitely and that there would be sporadic if any correspondence. She had never been more proud of him, and she had grasped onto that sentiment in a effort to ignore the roiling emotions queuing in her stomach. That fluttering ball of sadness, and joy, and understanding and… fondness… wouldn't do to be dwelled on just then.

He'd told her he would miss her, and that he hoped she would think of him sometimes, because he'd surely never forget about her. He'd given her that Kent smile that was like a crowbar to the knees, and stood to go.

He was almost to the elevators when she'd remembered about the letter.

"Clark!" she'd called, chasing after him, and skittering to a halt in front of him when her heels slid on the tile. He'd taken her arms to help stabilize her, and she looked up into his blue eyes for what she knew would be the last time for a long time. They already looked grander, older, more secure. They were eyes that a man should be proud of, she'd thought fuzzily. She crumpled the envelope in her fist.

"Nothing, Smallville," she'd said. She went for broke and flung her arms around him, giving him a Mad Dog Lane Bear-hug Special, and she'd thrilled at the sound of his startled bark of laughter in her ear as he'd swung her around once. She chucked him on the shoulder. "Keep your head up and your nose clean, soldier."

She hadn't pulled away immediately and neither had he. "Would it be futile of me to ask that you try and stay out of trouble too, Miss Lane?"

She cocked her head and smiled sassily, not thinking about how foolish it was to pin your heart on a man who had just outlined his plans for evacuation.

"Absolutely."

One more squeeze, a soft goodbye and he was gone, out of her life, out of orbit for the next forever of time.

Five years later, gently stroking her husband's hand where it was splayed possessively across her abdomen (her husband, who was infinity times the man he'd been when he'd left, who saved the world daily and still had that same blinding Kent smile), she explored that memory and imagined the letter moldering away somewhere in the Metropolis dump.

She smiled. She didn't regret that decision even one little bit.