Author's Note: This was inspired by fanfic100's challenge: write 100 drabbles for a pairing or fandom. Naturally, I chose Clois, and as an added challenge for myself, I'm trying to write a coherent story out of the drabbles. And, while drabbles are traditionally 100 words, I've been lucky so far to keep everything under 1000 words.

No spoilers, takes off where Salvation ends.

.073 Light

She can't help remembering the feel of Clark's lips on her own. That last kiss, in the alley, was completely different from all their others. This one had felt like goodbye. And that scares her.

When the skies light up like it's the Fourth of July, she knows in her heart that something is wrong. She barely remembers running through the streets of Metropolis, doesn't even know where she's going until she gets there.

The light in the sky is fading as she finds him, lying in a crumpled heap in the middle of the street. She can just about feel her heart stop at the sight of the dagger protruding from his chest, and she rips her coat off, using it to staunch the blood coming from the wound without a second thought.

"Don't give up on me, Smallville," she whispers in his ear, as she drags him off the ground to lean against her chest.

She dials her cell phone one-handed, growling in frustration as she waits for Oliver to answer her call. When he doesn't pick up, she swears, slamming the phone shut and throwing it against the side of the building in a sudden surge of fury, watching it break into a dozen pieces.

"Don't look at me like that," she tells the unconscious man bleeding in her arms. "It's not like I can call 911 for you, have you go to a hospital. What would I tell them, the Blur is dying?"

A sob catches in her throat as the implications of that statement hit her, and she angrily wipes away the tears that threaten to cloud her vision.

"You are not allowed to die on me, you hear?" she snaps, glaring down at him.

But, his eyes remain stubbornly closed, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. The dagger that she'd packed her coat around is almost mocking her, seeming to glow from within with its own strange light, and before she can think about what she's doing, she grabs the dagger and pulls it out of his chest. She hurls the dagger away, watching as it's swallowed up by the darkness that surrounded them.

"You don't get to die," she repeats, pulling him in tight against her chest, even as she wonders what in the world she's going to do.

She can't take him to the hospital, and the one person who could help isn't answering his phone. She's practically helpless, sitting here in the rain watching the man she loves as he dies, and she hates that feeling more than anything in the world. She wants to scream, to break something, but she just hangs on tight, feeling his weak, unsteady heartbeat underneath her hands.

"I'm not mad that you didn't tell me earlier," she says, talking now just to fill the silence. "I mean, how could I be? It's not like I share everything about my life with you, after all."

He takes a sudden, gasping breath, and she holds her breath, anxiously. But his heart continues to beat, his chest keeps rising and falling, and she lets out her own breath in shaky relief.

"Maybe we should though, you know?" she goes on, as though nothing had interrupted her. "We said no secrets, maybe we should give it a real shot. What do you say?"

Shifting him in her arms, she peeks under the edge of her coat, checking on his stab wound. Then, slow smile spreads across her face as she watches the last bits of the wound disappear, his skin knitting itself together, seamlessly. And when his breathing hitches, again, she looks down to see his eyes opening, slowly, focusing on her.

"Welcome back," she whispers, bending down to kiss him, gently, as the rain stops and the sun breaks through the clouds.