Daniel could see when his daughter was suffering. She had returned for Spring Break. She had resented coming home, but her parents had forced her. She told them that she had to stay in her room and study. She needed to revise for the end of year exams.
Ellie and Daniel had heard how their daughter was struggling. Apparently she seemed distracted. Even James had phoned them, obviously worried about his girlfriend. She hadn't been the same for a while. She hadn't been herself since one morning when he went to see her. She had sat on her bed, holding a letter to her hand, refusing to let it go.
He knew that he needed to do something. He needed to do something to save her from a path of self destruction.
That was how he found himself at the Kent residence, knocking on the front door. He was well aware that his wife would have disapproved of him going there. It took a few moments before Mrs Kent walked out, looking at Daniel with an arched brow. She folded her arms across her chest in a defensive manner, clearly not wanting the man to be on her porch.
"What do you want?" she snapped at him. "Clark isn't here."
"Lizzie knows," Daniel said simply. "She knows what we did. She knows that we hid the letters from her."
"And how is that my issue?" Martha wondered. "You kept them from her."
"We did it to protect her."
"So you say," Martha replied. "The girl deserved to know that my son hadn't forgotten her. She's a lovely young lady. She deserves the truth."
"And she has it now," Daniel said, shaking his head back and forth before looking to the sky. He couldn't believe he was doing this. "She wrote to Clark. He hasn't replied to her...she's worried about him."
Martha's brow furrowed as she took a few moments to think. How did she get Clark's address? She must have found it in the letters. But that wasn't the same address which he now used. He'd moved on, deciding to spend some time travelling and finding work on the way. Even she didn't have a permanent address for him. He phoned her sometimes, calling from payphones. He'd been working as a waiter, but had decided to quit after he dropped a beer on the floor and received another telling off.
"I don't have an address for him at the moment. Clark has gone travelling," Martha admitted to Daniel. "I'll send you it as soon as I find it out."
"Thank you," Daniel said. He was grateful for that at least.
"How is she?" Martha wondered.
Daniel shook his head then, burying his hands in his trouser pockets as he thought about the question. How was she?
"Not good," he admitted bluntly. "She was doing well until she found an old letter in her pigeonhole at college. She was angry with us, but now she won't talk to us. Her mother keeps telling her to grow up...tells her that Clark meant nothing to her."
"And what do you tell her?"
Daniel took a moment to think. "I told her the same thing to start off, and then her grades began to slip. Her boyfriend called us out of worry. Now...if Clark was a futile crush then she wouldn't have responded like this, would she?"
Martha agreed with a small grunt. "I know. Tell her that I will talk to him. She needs to get her degree; Gods know she's smart enough to do that."
"We know it," Daniel spoke. "We just need her to know it."
...
It was another week before Clark phoned his mother again. He had found another job in a restaurant somewhere, serving food as a waiter. She had told him everything that had happened. She told him how Lizzie had found his letters and written back to him.
"So you've basically missed each other because of those hidden letters," Martha clarified. "She's back at home; the poor thing is struggling on her course because of all of this. She wrote to you, and you never wrote back. She thought that you hated her for going years without replying. She still doesn't know what to think, Clark. The poor girl...with parents like that then she has to be messed up..."
"What should I do?" Clark wondered from his mother. "I can't go back to her. I can't drop everything here to go back to her, can I? I'm still travelling. She does need to know that I am...well...I'm coping. I need her to do the same."
"Write to her whilst she is at home," Martha urged her son. "Tell her that you're safe. She'll appreciate it, I'm sure of it."
"I don't doubt that," Clark replied. "Will a letter ease her?"
"Hopefully."
That wasn't the confident answer which Clark had wanted to hear from his mother. He shook his head and ran his hand over his temple, thinking about what he could do. He needed Lizzie to be fine. He needed her to continue on with her life. How could he urge her to do that in a letter?
"I've got to go, mom. You take care of yourself."
"You too, honey. Call again soon, okay?"
"Of course. Love you."
"I love you too, Clark."
Clark hung up and checked into the nearest motel, leaving his bag there for the night before deciding what he had to do for the best.
...
Standing outside her house after three years was the strangest thing which Clark had done. He looked up to her window, the light glaring out. He doubted it had changed at all. He assumed that it would all be the same. And she was in there. She was sat in there, probably working knowing her. What did he say to her when he went in? What did he tell her?
He didn't know, but he knew that standing in her back garden was achieving nothing. Clark bit down on his tongue and pushed himself from the ground to hover outside her window. The side pane was wide open, allowing the fresh air into her room.
She was stood there, wrapped in a towel with her hair hanging past her shoulders and down her back. He could have sworn that it had been shorter last time. Clark didn't dwell on it, deciding it for the best to land on her sill. He stood there, watching her for a few moments before he announced himself.
"Lizzie."
She yelled then, screaming as loud as possible as she turned around to the window, her pulse racing and her face reddening. Clark continued to watch her for a few moments, wondering what was happening as she jumped back, clutching the towel to her chest.
And then she saw who it was. She looked at his strong jaw and his beard covered chin. He looked rugged, dressed in only a white t-shirt and an open blue shirt covering him, along with his jeans. He didn't look like the clean cut boy Lizzie had grown up with. Her mouth was agape as Clark slowly moved to stand on the floor of her room. He used his hearing to sense that there was no one in the house. Her parents must be on another meeting.
"Clark," she spoke back to him. "Is that really you?"
"Yeah," Clark said.
The two of them said nothing more, simply content with their stares for a while. Clark allowed his eyes to roam over her form. She looked thinner than she had done the last time he had seen her in New York. Her face was paler and there was no smile on her lips.
Lizzie couldn't believe what she was seeing anymore. If anything, it looked as if Clark was more muscular than before. She was shocked at the sight of him. Never before did she consider seeing him in her room again.
"Oh God," Lizzie suddenly called out. "I'm in a towel."
"You are," Clark agreed, running a hand down the back of his neck as he nodded.
He turned his head to the side, giving her some privacy whilst she went to grab a bathrobe. She shrugged into it, dropping the towel to the floor and kicking it to the side. Clark kept silent until she had tied the robe around her body.
"I wrote to you," Elizabeth suddenly blurted out to him, her gaze focused intently on the floor as she spoke. "I wrote to you. My parents hid the letters you sent. They kept them from me...I wrote as soon as I found out. You never replied to them."
"I know," Clark agreed.
He could hear Lizzie's breathing sharpen at that, her eyes moving up to look into his as she felt a whole new wave of emotions wash through her.
"I had moved on when you sent them. I've been travelling for the past few months. I never got them, Lizzie," Clark explained. "I came back here last year. I came back...your parents told me what they had done."
"They had no right," Lizzie said, shaking her head back and forth with haste. She still struggled to believe what they had done. Who did they think they were to hide her mail from her? Lizzie didn't know. She knew that it still disgusted her. "I would have wrote, Clark. I would have, you know that, don't you?"
"I know," Clark promised her. "I know, Lizzie. Honestly, I do."
"Okay," Lizzie said; a moment of relief washing over her as she folded her arms over her waist and shifted from one foot to the other nervously. She didn't know what to say to him. What could she say to make everything fine between them after three years?
"You look well," Clark suddenly spoke, unable to take the silence between them.
She peered up at him through her lashes, eyeing him with the beard.
"You look a mess," she replied and he chuckled. There was the Lizzie who he knew.
"I thought that," Clark admitted to her. "I maybe need a shave."
"Maybe," she weakly agreed with his analysis before sobering. "Why are you here, Clark? It has been three years. Why did you come tonight?"
Running a hand down his arm, Clark tried to keep calm in front of her. "Your father went to see my mother."
That seemed to shock her. Clark regarded her with caution as she looked around the room, obviously unable to believe what her father had done.
"He asked for my address. He said that you needed to talk to me. He said that you weren't the same Lizzie who I knew...and he's right, isn't he?"
She couldn't admit to that. She didn't want Clark to think that she was weak and pathetic, even though she felt it. She felt numb when he didn't reply to her. She felt as if he had taken a part of her. It sounded melodramatic, she knew that much.
"I was coping," Elizabeth admitted. "I managed the first two years at university fine, and then I found the letter. I found that and guilt washed over me instantly."
"It shouldn't have," Clark told her. "You have nothing to be guilty for."
"I felt it," she replied with a snort. "I wrote and you never replied. I begged for you to let me know that you didn't hate me. I didn't know what to do, Clark. I thought that I'd hurt you because I never replied...even though I didn't get the letters..."
"Exactly," Clark said to her, daring to take a step closer to her. She ran a shaking hand through her drying blonde hair, looking anywhere but into his eyes. "You have nothing to feel guilty for. Everything is fine now...we know what happened. We know that there was a misunderstanding."
"What my parents did was not a misunderstanding," Lizzie snapped back, her anger coming back to them. She wondered if she could ever forgive them for it.
"They wanted the best for you," Clark said, not too sure why he was defending them. "Don't spend the rest of your time hating them for what they did, Liz."
She felt tears prickle in her eyes. "I don't hate them." She admitted. "They're my parents. I can't hate them."
"They stopped you from spending your time moping after me. They didn't want that, and I didn't want that for you. I wanted you to go to university and carry on. They said that you managed to do that."
Clark didn't mention how he knew of her boyfriend by going to see her that day. He didn't need her to know that. He didn't want to relieve it.
"But knowing that you were safe would have been something," Elizabeth replied.
"I'm a big boy," Clark smirked at her, trying to make her feel better. "I can take care of myself."
"I don't doubt it," she promised him. "I just wanted to know for myself that nothing had happened. And now you're here. You're stood in my room again with a beard. The last time you were here you told me that you were leaving."
"I remember," Clark said to her. "I remember all too well."
"Me too," she admitted.
And she did recall it nearly every single day that passed.
Clark could say no more as he watched her move towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself closer to him. That was when the tears flowed freely. It was when they moved down her cheek and landed on his shirt, dampening it. She could do nothing else but hold him. He cautiously placed his own arms around her waist, pressing her tighter to him.
He continued to run his hands up and down her back, trying to soothe her. He gulped loudly, knowing that he couldn't spend too long with her. He knew that if he did then he would never want to leave her again. Clark was stuck in a genuine dilemma.
"I miss you," Elizabeth whispered.
"I miss you too," Clark said. "Every single day."
She pulled back from him after a second, her hands still holding his shoulders. She couldn't believe how muscular his arms felt. It was almost too scary for her to comprehend.
"You're not staying for long, are you?" Lizzie said to him.
"How do you know?" He wondered back. She shrugged nonchalantly.
"Because you haven't said anything about finding out who you are," she replied. "That would have been the first discussion point, wouldn't it? It's the reason why you left."
Clark shook his head, his large hands moving to cup her waist. He could hear her pulse quicken at his contact, but he kept quiet. It was hardly the time to say anything about it to her.
"I came as soon as I heard that you're grades were slipping and you'd become...well...not yourself...I couldn't put it in a letter. I needed to come and make sure that you would move on from this. You know that you have to, don't you?" he checked with her.
"You're here to give me a pep talk?" she wondered, a hint of amusement in her voice and on her arched brow. She finally stepped out of Clark's hold, walking around her room to find her hairbrush. She kept herself busy, dragging the brush through her hair as she perched on the edge of her bed.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing," Lizzie replied. "It just used to be me who gave you the pep talks. I never thought that I would be getting one from you."
"Well, you should prepare to," Clark warned her, sitting beside her on the bed. "The thing is, Lizzie, I don't know how long I will be gone for. I don't know if I will be coming back to Smallville...or the States...I honestly have no idea."
"I know that," Lizzie whispered. "I've known it for a long time. I just need to be sure that you're safe, Clark."
"And I will write to you now," Clark said. "I'll even call you."
Lizzie said nothing, allowing him to continue talking to her.
"The thing is, Liz, that night...the night I left...and we...well..."
"I know," she replied, remembering the kiss.
"I thought that you would be able to carry on. And then your dad told me what Whitney Fordman did to you-"
"-He's not anyone's concern anymore, Clark. Whitney always was a bastard."
"I never thought he would hit you," Clark replied. "I never thought that he would hurt you because of me. I thought it was just taunts."
"I coped," Lizzie promised. She didn't want him to beat himself up because of it. "It was nothing, Clark."
"That's not the point, Lizzie. People have been hurt because of me...you...my dad...my mom hears the whispers...and it is all my fault-"
"-No-
"-Don't interrupt," Clark begged her, daring to envelope both of her hands into one of his large ones. He held them tightly, looking down at the floor as he perched on the very edge of the bed. "It's true, Lizzie. Your parents did the right thing. You may not see it like that, but I do understand."
Clark's thumb moved over her cheek, pushing the tears away from it and smiling at her with a lame smile. He could hardly be enthusiastic about what he was about to tell her. He was sure it would hurt himself as much as it hurt her.
"Your dad told me how you were top of the class. He told me how you had become social again...how you...you even met someone..." he choked the last bit out.
That was when Lizzie looked at him, her eyes wide as she tried to read his hidden face. And then she looked down. What could she say? She couldn't lie to Clark. James meant a lot to her. He'd been a rock to her during the past two years. He'd been with her for so long.
"I spent the first year waiting," Elizabeth admitted. "He kept asking me to go on dates with him...but...I said no..."
"No," Clark said. "I don't want you to wait for me, Lizzie. I don't want you to stop living your life because of me. If he is the one who you want, then...you should go for it."
"How can you say that?" Lizzie asked. "Clark, I care for you as much as I do James."
"But he is here," Clark said. "He is here, and I can't be. I made a promise to myself, Liz. I need to stick by that promise."
"It still hurts, Clark," she murmured. "I think of that night. I think of what it felt like...and...I wondered what we could have had...what we could have...if...you don't know how guilty I feel. Whenever I kiss James...I can't help but think of what you would think. I can't help but think of some part of you, and it rips me up, Clark. It hurts me."
"No," Clark told her, wrapping his arm around her waist and cradling her against his side. She rested her head under his chin, his beard nuzzling the top of her head as he did so. She felt the wave of tears open up then. She couldn't control herself.
"I don't expect you to wait for me," Clark promised her. "That is not what I want you to do."
"But what if you come back?" Lizzie wondered against his shirt. "What if you find out and come back? What happens then?"
"Nothing," Clark replied softly. "You build your own life, Lizzie. You stay with James. Only you can know what you want. I know that I don't want you to stop and wait for me. That is no life, and you deserve so much more."
"So do you," she replied. "Clark, I don't know what I want. I don't know what to do...I'm so lost...I thought you'd forgotten me...I thought you hated me...and I thought you hated me...because of James."
He pulled back and wiped the tears from her eyes, resting his forehead against hers as she closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing again. Clark smiled gently at her then, his head shaking back and forth as he continued to hold her.
"I will never hate you," Clark said. "You're an amazing girl, Lizzie. Anyone would be lucky to have you, do you understand? He's a lucky guy, and...and he better treat you well."
She didn't want to nod. She didn't want to upset Clark anymore.
"Don't go," Lizzie suddenly gurgled to him. "Don't leave me again."
"I have to," he said. "I will stay in touch. I promise you that. But you need to look after yourself. You still have to become the first female President."
She snorted a laugh at that, her warm breath hitting Clark's cheeks as he moved his hands down to her neck, holding her softly against him.
"Okay?" Clark checked after a moment as she tried to control her breathing. "You're going to be fine, Liz. I know it. You just have to remember me when you make your inauguration speech."
She laughed at that, her eyes closing as Clark smiled back at her. She moved her own hands to rake through his hair and down his beard.
"Of course I'll mention you. You are the world's first superman, after all."
"Good," Clark replied. "Because you may need my help with the heavy lifting."
"Probably," Lizzie agreed with him, unknowingly moving her lips closer to his. Clark knew what she was doing, and he didn't feel guilty. He knew that she had a boyfriend, but Clark didn't care. He closed the gap between them, pressing his lips against hers and moving her backwards. Lizzie allowed him to take control, lying on her back as he propped himself on his side and continued to kiss her. The feeling of his beard scraping against her chin made her squirm for a moment, but she grew accustomed to it.
Clark pulled his lips from hers after a few moments, knowing full well that he had to control himself. He didn't want to push her too far. He didn't want her to feel guilty at what she had just done.
"Will you stay the night?" Lizzie whispered to him. "Please, don't go yet."
"You're home alone, aren't you?" Clark grinned, remembering her fear.
She smiled at him after that. "Old phobia."
"I'll stay," Clark promised her. "Get some rest, Lizzie. You look terrible."
"Thanks very much," Lizzie replied, turning onto her side and nestling herself against Clark. He said nothing as he draped an arm over her waist and she closed her eyes, her breathing becoming slow.
"Well done for not groping my ass."
Clark chuckled, his body shaking against hers then. "The teenage hormones have settled down." He lied to her.
She hit him on the chest before keeping quiet, slowly falling to sleep in Clark's arms again. Clark said nothing, holding her until the break of the dawn before moving.
He looked down at her sleeping form, doing his best not to disturb her from the peaceful state she found herself in. He wanted to wake her. He stood there and debated what to do. He knew that waking her would prompt another conversation between both of them. She would cry again, and Clark couldn't stand to see that. He couldn't make her sadder than she already was.
He wrote a letter, leaving it on her desk before kissing her on the top of her head, brushing her hair from her face. He moved back to her window, making sure that the sun was still on the way up before he left her behind again.
...
A/N: Another chapter today! I know it is pretty sad at the moment, but it will all get better. I promise you that! Thanks for reading and do review.