Chapter 33

[A/N: Thoreau's poem is not mine obviously.]

[Potter-Lang Residence]

Lana gulped down a lukewarm mug of coffee. Normally a birthday marked celebration. Another year of life. Another year filled itself with Amor and special people. Even it meant Nell's half-hearted and half-baked card and the same bouquet of daisies (yet again) from her shop, at least she cared.

This year held so much promise. She finally understood Clark. They shared a special bond. His parents accepted her as The Girlfriend. The poetry reading represented the best birthday present ever. She even had some answers to her family's history and issues….

…if only such things didn't have strings attached…..

She considered\the hidden debris of her practice sessions. Several times at the Talon, she'd nearly exposed herself with several broken coffee mugs. Her heat vision had singed soot streaks in the alley wall. Noises increased in volume. Doors and walls turned invisible at times. A sneeze blew a barnyard door across a pasture. Hustled jogs turned to blurred marathons toward the next county.

Fortunately Clark stepped up. He coached her on the abilities. He helped to practice at his parents' farm. He answered her questions. He even raced her to Oklahoma, Missouri and Colorado. His lies and evasions ceased.

Still Doubt popped up. Was this what it was like for him? How did he manage to keep it under wraps? What will Nell do? She sighed. She emptied the rest of the mug at once. Somehow she set it on the table. What am I going to do now? What if I'm some witch? She grimaced.

A knocking came from the door.

Now who? She walked over to the door. Anxiety flared up inside of her. Before she could get there, Warmth eased her mind and heart. Clark, is that you?

Who else? Had to see if the birthday girl wanted company on the way to school.

And then there's the telepathy. She giggled and opened the door. There she spied him waiting on her doorstep. In his hands, he held a mixed bunch of violets, lilacs and a few daisies. Under his arm she spied a rolled up piece of parchment paper. She had to admit that the telepathy took some getting used to. However once they'd established guidelines, she enjoyed it. You did, did you? She kissed him on the cheek.

"I tried to get some of your favorites." He shrugged and handed them to her. "Happy Birthday!"

She sniffed deeply of the blooms. Her senses floated on Serenity's bliss. Her eyes watered. A smile spread across her face. "This is so sweet, Clark. Thanks!" She motioned toward the parchment paper. "What's that?"

He stiffened. "What's what?" He saw her point toward the paper. "Oh this? Oh yeah. It's a poem…not one I wrote or anything. Byron has had me reading Thoreau."

"And you picked something out for me?" Her heart skipped a beat. Giddiness pushed her into a little happy dance.

"Yeah. It's well…kind of nice. Figured you'd like it." He handed her the rolled paper.

She unrolled it and read it over. Her eyes twinkled. "Clark, this is really great!"

"I didn't write it. I wish I had. I…." he deflected.

"It doesn't matter. You gave this a lot of thought. You picked something out specifically for me. For me." And with that, she began to read,

"Friendship

H. D. Thoreau

I think awhile of Love, and while I think,
Love is to me a world,
Sole meat and sweetest drink,
And close connecting link
Tween heaven and earth.

I only know it is, not how or why,
My greatest happiness;
However hard I try,
Not if I were to die,
Can I explain.

I fain would ask my friend how it can be,
But when the time arrives,
Then Love is more lovely
Than anything to me,
And so I'm dumb.

For if the truth were known, Love cannot speak,
But only thinks and does;
Though surely out 'twill leak
Without the help of Greek,
Or any tongue.

A man may love the truth and practise it,
Beauty he may admire,
And goodness not omit,
As much as may befit
To reverence.

But only when these three together meet,
As they always incline,
And make one soul the seat,
And favorite retreat,
Of loveliness;

When under kindred shape, like loves and hates
And a kindred nature,
Proclaim us to be mates,
Exposed to equal fates
Eternally;

And each may other help, and service do,
Drawing Love's bands more tight,
Service he ne'er shall rue
While one and one make two,
And two are one;

In such case only doth man fully prove
Fully as man can do,
What power there is in Love
His inmost soul to move
Resistlessly.

_

Two sturdy oaks I mean, which side by side,
Withstand the winter's storm,
And spite of wind and tide,
Grow up the meadow's pride,
For both are strong

Above they barely touch, but undermined
Down to their deepest source,
Admiring you shall find
Their roots are intertwined
Insep'rably. "

Admiration glistened in her eyes. "This is the best birthday present I could have received. Thank you, Clark. To think that a couple of months ago, you were struggling with limericks. Now you picked out a truly great poem for me." She held up the paper. "This marks where we're headed. You and me growing together through everything. Loving and creating the new Kryptonian race together." She embraced him. "I love you, Clark."

"I love you." He relaxed. Relief filled him. "I didn't want to steal anyone's thunder later."

"You're making your own. Nothing wrong with that." She checked the coffee maker and appliances to make sure everything was off. "We should get going. We don't want Mr. Reynolds getting us for being late."

He rolled his eyes at his nemesis' name. "No we don't. Rain check?"e glanced again at Jor-El. Then she vanished into the light.

Be happy."or d even if you both have buried and denied it at

"Try and stop me, Clark." She squeezed his hand. "Race you!" She rushed out the door at super speed heading for town.

He shook his head. He stepped out of the house. After checking the door, he rushed off in pursuit.

Mood, it seemed, had been set properly on that day….