A/N: Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews. They were very encouraging. It does make my day when my writing is enjoyed and appreciated. You have no idea how much I love writing! I'd never thought there would be a day when other people would read my stories and love them as much as I love writing them. So thank you for your continued support. I would also like to thank guest reviewers, Chewbie and JHUGHES. I wish I could respond personally to JHUGES, your review really touched me and thanks for taking the time to send it.
I would also like to thank VisAVis2 for offering to beta read my stories. Though they couldn't for this chapter, due to the time differences. The downside to living on the other side of the world! And I had to upload tonight, before Monday, as my coming week is frantically busy. I tried to edit as much as I could.
The action does pick up in this story, as well as the angst.
Enjoy!
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Chapter 7.
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It really wasn't his scene, but he'd gone to the party with Lana because she had asked him to. Lana was the girl of his dreams, so he had been telling himself that these last few years. She looked amazing, as always, but something had changed.
It left him feeling disgruntled and odds with himself. When he gazed at her, he no longer had that overwhelming feeling of adoration. In fact, he really didn't even know her that well, and what little he was getting to know just didn't – appeal to him as much as it should have.
She was just another pretty face in a crowd. Maybe he'd put her on such a high pedestal that the reality wasn't what he'd thought it'd be. 'You've wanted this for so long, Clark,' he silently told himself, 'just don't over think it.'
His gaze rested on the photos that sat upon the mantle above a roaring fire. Pictures of happy family moments, capturing a slice of time. Much like the ones that dotted the mantle in his own home. It made him miss his father.
The sound of music and laughing voices faded around him. He shouldn't be here. He clutched the glass of lemonade in his hand, Lois' parting words echoing in his ears, 'make sure you pour your own drinks, Smallville.' It brought a smile to his lips.
"You seem a bit distracted," a voice spoke beside him.
He turned to Lana. What did she actually see in him? He was hardly a great conversationalist, not at all charming like Chad. He had to know.
"Do you like me?" he blurted out.
She frowned, looking puzzled. "I'd hardly go out with you if I didn't like you, Clark."
Of course, how could he even ask such a thing? Just that he couldn't let go of the nagging thought in his head. "What do you like about me?"
A hesitant smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "Well you're cute," she began, nudging him.
He smiled in return but it felt forced. Finishing his glass of lemonade, he placed in on the mantle.
"And sweet," she continued, weaving her arm through his. "You also happen to be a pretty amazing footballer."
Surprisingly. "Thanks." But the nagging thought wouldn't go away. Would she still be interested if he wasn't playing football?
Lois' words had a way of getting stuck in his head. 'When you really like someone, Clark, those things don't matter that much.'
He was about to ask something he'd probably regret. Taking a deep breath he gazed down at Lana.
"What if I didn't play football – would you have still gone out with me?"
"If you didn't play football would you ever have asked me out?"
Okay, so she returned a question with a question that was pretty astute of her and she had a point.
"I don't think I would have summoned up the courage," he admitted.
She smiled warmly. "You were always kind of shy."
And she always had a boyfriend.
"What is this all about, Clark?"
He shrugged. "Just, wondering."
"Oh," she began, then pausing, "well I guess it's my turn to ask what you like about me?"
His mind went blank.
"Um, you're pretty."
Think. Think. Think Clark. But he couldn't come up with other reasons.
"And smart," he added.
Except when it came to boys. After all she had gone out with Chad, enough said.
"Truth is I really don't know you well enough."
She smiled, tightening her hold on his arm. "I guess that is why we are dating so we can get to know each other."
He nodded. "True."
Though dating almost seemed like a forced artificiality; like he was on some kind of trial run. He'd been hanging around Lois for too long. Now her ideals were beginning to rub off on him.
"Dating – it's a bit like the football try outs," he said, "I think it would be easier just being two friends who hang out together."
Lana quirked an eyebrow. "Like you and Lois?"
How did Lois end up in this conversation? He suddenly felt put on the spot. Lana was looking up at him, an expectant expression on her face.
"You two hang out together a lot," she continued.
He ran a hand up the back of his neck. "Hard not to when we both live in the same house."
Lois was a force to be reckoned with. She had breathed life back into the house with her presence, making the gloomy shadows in the aftermath of his father's death retreat. As much as she sometimes annoyed him, she also made him laugh. He felt alive whenever she was around.
"What do you like about her?" Lana asked, much to his surprise and discomfort.
"She's bossy," he replied.
Lana raised an eyebrow. "You like that about her?" A hint of disbelief mingled with amusement in her voice.
"I-I – ah, well, she has a way of dragging me out of my shell," he mused, "kicking and screaming I might add."
At first, but not now. Now he felt relaxed around her. He could be himself. There was so much more to her. She had fronted up to school on the Monday, and held her head high, despite him knowing what it had cost for her to do that.
"She's strong." And oddly vulnerable too. Just that she never showed that side to her character. She'd erected a wall around her heart, much like himself, and didn't trust easily. And she had taken up a lot of waking thoughts this last week.
"Independent," he continued. Yet, there was a need hidden there. Beneath her brash exterior was someone who was often lonely, wanting to belong.
"Her popularity has certainly increased since she volunteered herself," Lana added.
His eyes met with hers. It was true.
"If it'd been me, I probably would have missed school and cried for a week, but she walks around as if it means nothing."
"It did mean a lot to her," he quickly spoke in her defense. "And it wasn't easy."
The smile on Lana's face didn't quite reach her eyes. He was puzzled by all these questions about Lois.
"You two sound close," she continued.
He nodded. "I guess."
Which was kind of ironic really, because Lois was the last person he thought he'd get close to. Sensing the developing awkward tension between him and Lana, he tried to think of ways he could quickly change the subject.
"Sorry about all the questions, Clark, but you can't blame me for asking when you share a house with a girl, who you're obviously good friends with that also happens to be pretty."
Yes, she was, but those things didn't matter so much to her. 'It's not the outside that counts, Smallville, but the inside.' He recalled her words from way back in the early days when she was training him. They were fond memories.
"Well, she was," Lana continued.
What? Surprised and annoyed by her words he quickly blurted out. "She still is." He pulled himself up with a start. "It's just hair. It'll grow back."
Clark couldn't rationalise this sudden protectiveness he had for Lois despite her often telling him; "I'm a big girl, Clark. I can take care of myself."
She could, but she also needed a friend. "You don't always have to do it alone, Lois."
Lana removed her arm from his. "Of course," she agreed, looking unsure and the awkwardness intensified.
The night had definitely taken a turn for the worse. He'd rather be sitting on the sofa at home watching a DVD with Lois and Chloe. He almost envied them.
"Hey Kent," Chad jeered from behind.
And the night had just gotten ten times worse. Chad; another good reason not to have come to the party. Sighing, he turned around, his jaw clenching at the sight of him. His dislike for the guy had intensified over the last week. No thanks to him giving Lois a hard time about her hair. He had the audacity to pull the beanie off her head at school, and then mock her. Clark had stood there, silently fuming and resisting the urge to punch him.
Lois, to her credit, had just taken it in her stride.
'You little school boys had your fun now? Are you all gonna steal nerdy Fred's lunch money next, make fun of scabby Abbey again.'
Chad's face had darkened. Lois, unperturbed, faced him. 'Isn't it about time you grew up?'
Her eyes rested on the beanie in Chad's hand. 'You can keep that,' she continued, a steely glint in her eyes. 'It's your colour after all, yellow.'
Clark couldn't help the smile that crossed his face at her choice of words. No one messed with Lois Lane.
'I'd watch your back, Lane,' Chad muttered in a low, menacing voice.
She shrugged. 'Tell someone who cares.' She then turned to him. 'I think we're done here, Clark.'
Lois might be able to handle Chad, but he, on the other hand wasn't so sure. Chad had still threatened Lois. He had issues with her, probably to do with that day she had shoved the muffin in his mouth. Chad wasn't the forgiving type when his ego was at state.
"Some of us guys are having a little wager," Chad continued, strutting towards him.
Just keep your cool, he silently chided.
"About your girlfriend." His eyes rested on Lana. "Not her. She doesn't count as a girlfriend. Not only that but she doesn't dish it out. She's nothing more than a tease."
Her heard Lana hiss. Clark felt his hand curl into a fist.
"Your other girlfriend, Kent. Brassy, overly bold, mouthy Lois Lane."
"Just leave it be, Chad," Lana muttered beside him.
He merely shot her a mocking look. "How cute, Lana. You defending, Kent, here. But I'm sure, Kent, is capable of defending himself, right?"
Clark's jaw clenched.
"Or maybe not. You always were gutless, Kent," Chad continued with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Getting back to Lois, maybe you want to have a little wager with us?"
Not in this lifetime, Clark silently muted. "I don't think so."
"Let's just get out of here, Clark," Lana murmured beside him, taking his hand in hers.
She had the right idea. Following her lead, he let himself be led, though he was still inwardly fuming.
"Lois is open fodder, Kent," Chad called after him. "It's only a matter of time before I bring her down."
White, hot anger overrode all of his senses. Letting go of Lana's hand, he turned around and stalked up to him.
"You stay away from her!" he threatened.
"Or what?" Chad sneered, his eyes raking over him with disdain. "What can you do?"
Clark tried hard to control the rage building within him. Just walk away, he silently chided. Don't give him the satisfaction.
"Rumours have a way of spreading like wildfire," Chad continued, lowering his voice, "Word has it, she's nothing more than a cheap slut, think that'll take off?"
Chad's smug, mocking face was the last straw. Pure rage leaked from every pore of Clark's body. Maybe he would live to regret it, but he couldn't stop himself. Raising a fist he punched Chad straight in the jaw. Chad stumbled backwards. Pain radiated through Clark's knuckles.
"Clark!" Lana exclaimed, her voice laced with shock and horror.
He stood, rooted to the one spot in disbelief. Had he just done what he thought he had? It felt good. He wanted to do it again, and again. He wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp and – He pulled himself up, shaking his head. He tried to rein in the anger simmering just beneath the surface.
Chad wiped away the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. His eyes glowered. "You'll keep, Kent."
"You won't if you don't stay away from Lois," he hissed in a fierce voice.
An almost sinister smile twisted Chad's mouth. "I see now that she means something to you."
Clark could feel Lana tugging on his arm. Why did his moment of victory feel all wrong?
"Let's get out of here," Lana muttered.
The cold night air was sobering, but he was still inwardly shaking from the anger. Shocked by his actions. It wasn't like him. But Chad had been a thorn in his side for too long. Always singling him out and roughening him up during training. He had just taken it. So why snap now? Clark came to the slow realisation that he could take it when it involved just him, but when it involved someone he cared about … that was different.
"Chad is the last person's wrong side you want to end up on," Lana spoke, breaking the silence.
He turned to face her, frowning. "He's just a jerk …"
"And a dangerous one," she interjected.
Given the serious, concerned expression on her face he inwardly shivered. "How?"
"Are you on Facebook, Clark?"
He shook his head.
"Probably just as well," she muttered.
She tipped her head up to stare at him through bleak eyes. "After I broke up with Chad, he posted pictures of me on his Facebook page."
Clark didn't like where this was going.
She took a deep breath. "Photos of me undressing."
His eyes widened in shock.
"I didn't even know he had taken them!"
His eyes flew to her distressed face. "Did you say something to him?"
She nodded. "Yes, and he told me it was payback for dumping him."
What did she ever see in him? Not that he was about to ask. The night truly had ended up a disaster along with a number of disturbing revelations; his feelings towards Lana had shifted. Chad was more than likely a sadist. In fact given what he'd said about Lois, it was a certainty.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he gazed down at Lana, feeling bad for her. "Sorry, I ruined the night."
A half smile, that wasn't even really a smile crossed her face. "It was – enlightening."
It was for him too, but how was it for her? What did she mean? Enlightening in a good or bad way?
"I'm tired," she began, pulling her car keys from her bag. "Think I'll head home."
Him and parties were not congruent, especially if they involved the likes of Chad. His knuckles still throbbed from punching him. It had felt good at the time, but he was now coming to the realisation that he shouldn't have done it. The gleam in Chad's eyes, his words 'now I see she means something to you' bothered him - A lot. Surely he wouldn't hurt Lois? Hurting girls physically wasn't Chad's thing given Lana's revelation. It offered little comfort. Chad got off on discrediting or public humiliating them. In some ways that was just as bad.
Chloe was pulling out of the driveway just as he was driving into it. They waved in passing. He felt relieved that Chloe wouldn't be there when he arrived home. She already had very strong views on the likes of Chad, would probably want to write a story on him. Lois, however, would be home. He needed to warn her to stay well clear of Chad. He couldn't see that going down well. Lois never did as she was told.
She was making herself a hot chocolate when he walked through the kitchen door.
She glanced up briefly. "Hi Clark."
Seeing her standing there was a welcoming sight. Already he felt calmer. "Lois," he returned, feeling a smile cross his face at the sight of her typical boy pyjamas, and pink bunny slippers.
He quickly averted his eyes and looked down at his swollen knuckles. Crossing the floor he opened the freezer and reached for an ice pack, not at all sure how to tell her about the disastrous night.
"How did the party ago?"
Of course it was only matter of time before she asked.
"It, ah, could have been worse." He winced when he rested the ice pack on his knuckles.
"Worse?" she began. "Uh oh. Don't tell me you hit the turps again, Smallville?"
He turned around, almost stepping on her toes. His eyes met with hers. A frown dented her forehead. "You look sober enough."
"I didn't drink any alcohol," he sighed.
Her eyes fell to his hand, then shot back up to his face. "What did you do?"
"Something sort off stupid," he muttered.
Before he had a chance to say anything more, she removed the icepack from his hand and began inspecting it. Her touch was soothing. Ignoring the sudden thudding of his heart from her simple touch, his eyes rested on her hand. It looked so delicate in comparison to his roughened, calloused hand. He breathed in her scent. She smelled of lavender soap. She smelled good. He quickly pulled his thoughts into line. Taking a deep breath, he blurted out. "I punched Chad."
She looked up. "And that's a bad thing?" she quipped, a hint of a smile on her pretty lips. "He had it coming."
"Yes he did, but …" he paused, trying to find the right words.
He could see the questions in her eyes.
"I take it you defended Lana's honour?"
He shook his head. "No."
A puzzled look crossed her face.
He swallowed. "He said bad stuff about you."
A sudden realization played out across her face. "Oh." A tinge of colour tainted her cheeks. "You don't need to defend my honour, Clark," she continued, her words tumbling out in a rush, "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."
Her typical response. She really wasn't as tough as she made out to be. He'd come to that conclusion this last week.
"Now let's patch up that hand of yours," she continued.
With her hand, still holding his, she led him over to the bench. His frustration was starting to grow. She really wasn't taking this seriously enough.
"He said he was going to spread rumours about you being a slut."
She merely shrugged before reaching up in the cupboard for the betadine. "So let him."
He looked at her exasperated. "Since having your hair shaved a week ago your popularity has increased. Other people respect you now." He felt compelled to point that out.
Raising a self-conscious hand to the back of her neck, a shyness stole over her face. "I can think of better ways to hit the popularity polls."
Despite what Lana had said tonight, Lois was still mourning the loss of her hair. He was starting to get used to it, and resisted the urge to rest his hands on her shoulders in a reassuring gesture. Inwardly cursing this strange tenderness that was rapidly developing towards her.
Lois began dabbing the betadine on his knuckles with a cotton ball. He winced, his eyes resting on her shorn hair. She had been telling him the truth when she said her natural colour was brown. He preferred it that colour. She looked so much younger. Not much more than a girl really.
"I think you look kind of cute," he murmured.
She glanced up at him, frowning. "Cute," she snorted.
"In a tomboyish way, especially wearing those pyjamas."
A hint of smile touched her lips. "You sure know how to compliment a girl, Clark, when she's having a bad hair day."
He smiled.
"Or in my case that's like every day," she continued.
"On the plus side, you spend a lot less time in the shower. The water's still hot when I get in," he lightly pointed out.
Her smile widened. "Enjoy it while it lasts, Smallville."
He nodded, his own smile increasing. "Oh, I will."
She punched him in the arm. At least he had made her smile.
"There, you're all patched up, again."
It was starting to become a recurring thing. As she went to withdraw her hand, he gently caught her fingers with his.
"Thanks Lois."
She was close, so close that if he leaned just a bit forward he could press his lips to hers and – He pulled himself up with a start. What was he thinking? These feelings for her were confusing him. He felt drawn towards her in a way that he had never felt before. When her eyes met his they reflected the same confusion. A strong feeling of tenderness towards her swamped him, again. How was it that she had managed to worm her way into his heart? Bossy, pig headed but also loyal. At times, vulnerable and warm Lois Lane. With her rash impulses and penchant for trouble. Drawing in a sharp breath, he stepped back.
She did the same. He averted his eyes from hers, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Getting back to Chad," she began.
He welcomed the change in conversation.
"What did he do after you punched him?"
"He – didn't hit back."
Surprised crossed her pretty face. "Really?"
He nodded. "He just said I'll keep."
The surprise on her face was replaced with sudden concern. "Clark, I don't think you have to worry about him hurting me," she pointed out.
He frowned.
"I'm more worried about what he'll do to you."
Her concern was touching. Despite her tendency for bossing him around, he knew deep down she cared about him as much as he cared about her.
"I'll be alright," he shrugged, "He already gives me a hard time at training. How much worse could it get?"
She didn't look convinced.
"I don't think you have to worry," he continued, "There is only one more game before we break for Christmas. There will be no more training for two weeks, and there won't be another game till after the first week in January."
She raised an eyebrow. "So, he'll plot your demise when we return to school."
Clark shook his head, bemused.
"Well, not on my watch he won't be," she continued with a hint of venom in her voice.
Warmth spread through him. She was being protective – over him. It seemed he wasn't the only one.
"Lois Lane is a force to be reckoned with," he quipped.
A small smile played on her lips. He resisted the urge to touch those lips, to touch her at all.
"But seriously, Lois. I think you should stay well away from him."
Her mouth opened and he knew what she was about to say. He'd only heard it a hundred times already. He pressed a finger against her lips. "Don't say it."
Blinking, a frown dented her forehead. She stepped back, catching his raised hand with hers.
"I've dealt with the likes of Chad before."
Here we go, he mused. She liked playing the tough girl act.
"I'm an Army brat, Clark," she continued.
"You've got the brat bit right," he couldn't help to add.
A smile hovered on her lips. Amusement danced in her hazel eyes. Her fingers were still entwined with his, and his thumb brushed against the palm of her hand.
He wasn't her type, he told himself. She wasn't his. Yet here he was, standing face to face, confused by these sudden feelings of wanting to touch her, hold her – kiss her.
Time to go to bed. Time to make a hasty retreat. He withdrew his hand from hers. Then raked the same hand through his hair.
What was happening to him? Had he lost his mind? It was Lois, just Lois.
"I should go to bed," he stammered. "I have a game tomorrow."
She nodded. "Me too. I need my beauty sleep."
He smiled. "Your already beautiful enough, Lois."
Colour spiked her cheeks, a slow smile crossing her face. Like any other girl out there, Lois really wasn't anymore immune to compliments. And he really had to get out of there before he said; did anything more that he'd later regret.
"Goodnight," he breathed.
"Night, Clark."
He quickly turned around, bumping into the pots and pans hanging above the middle bench. Just great. He shot her a quick, half embarrassed smile.
Lois ignored the warm, fussy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Did he have to be so – adorable?
"Try not to knock yourself out, Clark, on the way from the kitchen to the sofa," she quipped.
"I'll try," he returned with a wave of his hand as he made his way into the lounge room.
Forcing her legs to move, Lois climbed the stairs. Her cheeks still felt warm from being in such close proximity to him. Damn it and this effect he had over her.
She couldn't afford to let herself get attached. A bit late for that now, she silently moaned. Who was she kidding? She wasn't just attached, she was very attached to him.
'You don't risk your heart. You learned that the hard way.'
But it was Clark. And Clark was different; special. He would never hurt her. But then there was Lana. His high school crush. He was dating her. There was no way he would be looking at her, except tonight. For a moment he had leaned towards her, his eyes resting on her lips and she could almost swear he wanted to kiss her. And the way he brushed his thumb against the palm of her hand. Surely she had imagined the desire in his eyes. That had to be it, because Clark only had eyes for Lana Lang.
And what about Chloe? She could never hurt her cousin. Oh hell, it was starting to get complicated. Her feelings towards Clark were real whether she wanted to admit it or not.
Pulling the covers back from the bed she slid under the blankets.
Clark was her best friend. She'd never had a friend like him before. One of the main reasons she was able to get through the week was because of him. With him by her side, supporting her, she could get through anything.
There was no way she was risking her friendship for romantic foolish notions. Because, quite frankly, her and boys was a disastrous combination. It only ever worked when she strictly remained friends with them. And that is what she would be doing with Clark; friends only.
Lois' mood wasn't a good one when she woke up the following morning. She hadn't slept well, no thanks to Clark. She'd spent half the night convincing herself they would only ever be friends, and the other half worrying about what Chad might do to him. She had a bad feeling about it.
The hot shower did little to lighten her mood. She reached for the hair shampoo, suddenly realising she didn't need it. She still hadn't gotten used to the lack of hair. It felt strange.
Her mood only worsened when she caught her reflection in the mirror, the dark circles under her eyes.
"Beautiful," she snorted. "As if."
How did Clark see that? Why had he said it? 'And don't go there, Lois', she chided. 'He's just trying to make you feel better, because that's what he does, because he's Clark; Mr Nice Guy.'
It was a bitterly cold morning. Lois rugged up accordingly, beanie, scarf and mittens.
"You know they should hold all fundraisers in the summer months," she grumbled, helping herself to a generous amount of bacon. "You don't realise just how much warmth hair gives your head till you no longer have any," she continued, putting two friend eggs on her plate. "Right now I'm even envying your unruly mop of dark curls."
"Ah … thanks, Lois, I think."
She glanced across the table at him. He looked as tired as she felt. It seemed she wasn't the only one who'd had a bad night sleep. Though what his might have been about would no doubt be different to hers. He was probably thinking of the when, and right time to next kiss Lana Lang.
Her eyes rested on his plate, surprised by the amount of food on it. He hadn't eaten that much for breakfast in a while.
"Wow, Clark," she began, "You're going all out this morning."
"I have a game this afternoon. I need the energy for it."
"Not trying to impress Lana anymore?" she couldn't help asking.
His hand rested on the table. She was baffled by the guarded look on his face.
"I'm not trying to impress her," he mumbled and resumed eating.
Lois didn't know what to make of that.
"Trouble in paradise?"
He shook his head. Silence followed. Oh well, it looked like Clark wasn't willing to talk. Lois continued eating. A couple of minutes passed by.
"It's just that I don't feel the same way about her," he spoke, breaking the silence.
The fork, halfway to her mouth, froze. He what? She raised her eyes to his, seeing the confusion plainly written on his face.
"I think I just had her on this pedestal," he continued. "And …"
"The reality wasn't what you thought it would be," she finished for him.
He nodded. "Yeah."
That's a relief. Smallville was finally coming to his senses.
"Welcome to real life, Clark."
A hesitant smile tilted up the corners of his mouth. He was gorgeous. No two ways about it and her mouth felt dry. Damn it. To make matters worse he was even beginning to get over his infatuation with Lana. Maybe that wasn't a good thing. She liked the idea of him being unattainable, safer that way. Then another worrying thought took hold, what if one of the reasons he was losing interest in Lana was because of her?
'Don't be ridiculous, Lois,' she silently berated. But the thought wouldn't go away. She began shovelling food into her mouth, not really tasting it.
The sight of Mrs K coming down the stairs was a welcome distraction.
"I'm going to be in town all day," she began, buttoning up her coat. "I've left some lunch in the fridge for the both of you."
Clark's mom truly was the best. "Thanks Mrs K."
She smiled, and approached the table.
"Do you have a game this afternoon, Clark?"
He nodded. "At two o'clock."
Mrs K shot her a look. Lois knew that look, 'keep an eye on, Clark.' She was still worried about him, even though he hadn't had anymore dizzy spells these last two weeks.
"Don't worry. I'll be there to cheer, Clarkie, on."
Mrs K sent her a 'thank you' smile, before turning her attention to Clark. She ruffled his hair. "Be careful, Clark," she murmured, kissing the top of his head.
He waved away her concern. "I'm fine, mom."
Mrs K frowned. "You look tired."
Clark glanced up at her. Mrs K was still frowning. A silent message was sent between the two of them but Lois had no idea on what? Sometimes she felt like she was out of the loop on some important secret that they shared.
"I just didn't sleep much," Clark eventually returned.
She patted his shoulder. "Well, you two have a good day. I'll see you both later tonight."
Lois watched her exit through the back door. "Great, I'm going to spend the afternoon freezing my tits off watching your game, Smallville."
His cheeks reddened at her words. She shook her head, amused.
"You don't have to go."
"And miss you being the weekly hero," she snorted.
She shoved a forkful of bacon in her mouth. "I just hope Lana won't be singing your praises in a way that will make me throw up."
A look of discomfort crossed his face. "Yeah, me too."
Clark avoided Chad by all means when he fronted up to the pre-game discussion. He didn't even chance a glance in his direction. The last thing he needed was to be put off his game. But at times he could feel Chad's eyes boring into the back of his head.
The coach approached him. "Sam's called in sick. You'll be picking up his position as a runner back today, Kent."
He nodded. It wasn't the first time. He preferred the position to that of a line backer.
It was the last quarter. The score was even. Clark felt the responsibility of what he had to do. Read the play, get in position so the quarter back could pass to him if needed. Despite it being cold, he felt hot. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. The tiredness from having a bad night sleep was beginning to take its toll. His eyes landed on Lois, sitting in the bleachers next to Chloe. She was the reason without even knowing it. He glanced across the field to Lana, strutting her stuff as head cheer leader. And it was now clear as day. He no longer had feelings for Lana because it had all changed. Lois was the one. For a moment that thought shocked him.
"Hey Kent," the coach yelled. "Focus!"
He averted his gaze from Lana only for it to clash with Chad's hate filled glare. Clark kept his head held high. He would not allow himself to back down. He wasn't afraid of Chad. There was no way, as the Captain, he'd risk the team losing this game.
The whistle blew. Kick off commenced. Clark focused purely on the game, and what he had to do.
Five minutes in and they were two points down to the opposition. The coach was yelling, along with a sea of red, desperate faces telling him what to do, relying on him. Clark broke free of defense. The quarter back spotting him, passed the ball. He caught the ball, drawing his arm in, securing the ball tightly against his body.
The pathway was clear. He began sprinting, giving it all he had. He could do this. He could make the touch down. Adrenalin pumping, he ignored the protest of sore muscles in his legs.
Heart pounding, a sudden ringing erupted in his ears. It felt like his head was going to explode.
Focus. He had to focus.
But he was distracted. He could barely co-ordinate his limbs. They felt unattached to his body as the ringing intensified. If he didn't pass soon he was a goner. He frantically looked up for someone to pass too. His vision blurring. The pain in his head felt like a hundred shards of glass trying to get out. He stumbled.
"Kent! What the hell is wrong with you?" Another team player yelled.
Too late. It was all too late. He felt the oppositions heavy bodies crunch into him. He hit the ground hard. Pain shot through his knee and down his leg. What little breath he had was knocked out of him as one body after another landed on top of him. Panic filled him. He couldn't breathe.
It hurt. Everything hurt. Gasping for what air he could with a ton of weight crushing his chest, he tried to free himself.
It was impossible. The pain in his head, the dizziness, he couldn't fight it any longer and darkness claimed him.
Snow. There was snow as far as the eye could see. The brightness of it hurt his eyes. Was he dead? Where was he? He'd seen this place before.
'Your body is weak and fragile, Kal-el.' A voice resonated out of nowhere.
Gazing upwards, he slowly turned around, heart pounding in his chest.
'You are not human, yet you continue to act as if you are.'
He swallowed, his throat feeling like rough sand paper. He'd heard this voice before.
'You waste time with simple human pursuits filled with misplaced pride and arrogance. That is not your destiny.'
If he could, he would answer. But he didn't understand - any of this. How could he?
'I did not send my only son, the sole survivor of our race for you to squander it.'
Son, whose son? Who was the voice? Was it his father? A father he never knew, never met. He didn't know this distant voice. He didn't even want to know it.
'You have a purpose, Kal-el. You are this world's saviour. I've already told you to do what it takes to restore your powers, yet you haven't heeded my advice.'
He just wanted to be normal. Why couldn't he be? It wasn't fair. This – He didn't ask for this.
The tears that no sooner leaked out the corners of his eyes, turned to ice. Like the frozen wasteland before him. This could not be real. It wasn't real. It was a dream. Nothing more. He was nobody. He was just Clark Kent.
'From here on out your body will continue to break down if you do not fulfil your destiny. You will feel pain. It will be your constant companion. A reminder of what you failed to do. But the pain is minimal to what the world will suffer if you do not fix what has been done to you.'
'I-I … can't.'
'You must face your grief and your worst fears, Kal-el, or all hope will be lost.'
The sight of Clark's body lying there so motionless made Lois' heart jump into her throat. No. No. No. Not Clark. Not her Smallville. Her nails bit hard into the palm of her hands. She couldn't think for the blood rushing to her head.
Deadly silence had filled the stands. The pounding of her heart the only viable sound in her ears. Time stood frozen, like her heart. She watched as they lifted his body onto the stretcher and carried him off field. Then the dam broke.
He wasn't going anywhere.
She wouldn't let him.
Clark would be alright; he had to be.
Jumping over the seat in front of her, Lois sprinted across the oval in her haste to reach him. The thing that sucked most about caring too deeply is how much she chanced losing. The pain of loss – it hurt. It hurt a lot. She couldn't face that pain again. And she wouldn't.
She didn't care who was watching. She didn't care about the surprised looks upon the players face when she burst into the change room. She only cared about reaching Clark.
Her hands clasped both sides of his face. As if she could bring him back with just her will alone. His face was icy cold to touch.
"Listen to me, Clark," she muttered, her voice hoarse with raw emotion. "It's alright. You are going to be alright."
"I can't … I can't," he mumbled, faced screwed up in pain. Tears trickled down his cheeks.
It was killing her, seeing him suffer. She bit down on the insides of her cheeks. She tried to fight back the tears that threatened. What was happening to him?
"Clark!" she said more forcibly. "Clark!"
He would come back. He had too! She wasn't letting him go. He was strong. He could fight whatever it was that controlled him. It wasn't just a physical thing. No. It was something more, something other. Much like the night he was drunk.
His body shook, uncontrollably.
"Give him back," she hissed, "He's not yours."
She surely had to be going insane. That had to explain the words that came from her mouth. Words that made no earthly sense.
But then Clark was different.
He always had been.
Her hands tenderly stroked the tangled, sweat drenched hair back from his face.
"You can fight it, Smallville," she whispered in his ear. "I know you can."
Swallowing the giant sized lump in her throat, she uttered words she'd never thought to utter again. "I need you."
She ran the back of her hand across her damp face. Lois Lane was a big girl. She did not cry! Not for anyone. Not anymore. Except, obviously, simple farm boys with good intentions and a pure heart. She hated this need. Independent, feisty, bull headed Lois Lane didn't need anyone.
Need - it came with a price.
It always did.
She wanted to weep into her hands. Away from the prying eyes of the world. Cry and cry till the tears came no more. Till there was nothing but the familiar, well know emptiness inside. Like it had been with her mother.
Big girls don't cry. Big girls do what needed to be done. Big girls bottled up their feelings with a take charge, no nonsense attitude.
No one was allowed to see. What really took place deep inside; the pain, the vulnerability that could never be expressed.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, pulling herself together.
She thought – she really thought she could live without the need. But who was she kidding? Her greatest fear always had been ending up alone.
Her eyes rested on Clark's face. For the first time in a long while, he had made her believe that she really didn't have to be alone.
"Clark," she murmured in one last desperate ditch attempt. "Come back."
Not able to stand watching him tremble so, she wrapped her arms around him. If she held him long enough he would have to sense her presence. The minutes ticked by.
Feeling him take in a deep breath, she pulled back and gazed down at his face.
His eyelids fluttered against his pale cheeks. Lois held her breath. Heart beating irregularly against her shirt.
His eyes opened. Squinting against the brightness of the light, they slowly sought hers. She held her breath.
"Lois," he murmured in faint surprise. "What are you doing here?"
The sound of her name on his lips filled her with sweet relief. The tears she'd fought so hard to keep at bay now ran down her cheeks.
"I'm going to kill you, Clark." Her voice catching in her throat. "After your mom is done with killing me."
He blinked as if trying to piece together the scattered events of the last ten minutes. Raising a hand, his fingers tenderly touched her face, the tears that resided there.
"Why are you crying?"
Oh, she really was going to kill him for putting her in this state of being. For making her feel far more than she wanted too.
"I-I …" But the words stuck in her throat. "Where did you go, Clark?"
Deep shadows filtered across his face, but before he could speak the paramedic team arrived. She was pushed aside as they tended to him.
Lois could only watch on hopelessly. Seeing the confusion on his face, made her want to take him away from there. Back to the farmstead, where he belonged. Where he was safe.
Which was just crazy, because he would be perfectly safe at the hospital and that's where he should be.
He couldn't stop shivering in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. The coldness of that place had seeped into his bones. Even the warmth of the blankets covering him offered little respite.
The words from the vision had a way of haunting him. They kept playing over and over in his head. 'You will feel pain. It'll be your constant companion.'
He was in pain. His knee was nearly swollen to twice its normal size. He'd possibly and more than likely tore the anterior cruciate ligament. That was his football season over. It really didn't matter anymore. The voice, his father's voice, had control over his mind. How did that even work? Because he wasn't human; 'yet you continue to act as if you are'.
He felt wasted, scared and vulnerable.
"What happened, Clark?" Lois asked.
She had been allowed to ride in the back of the ambulance with him. In fact she had insisted. The paramedics didn't stand a chance when it came to refusing her. It was the only thing that had brought a smile to his lips.
He glanced up at her worried face. It was her voice, calling to him in that frozen place. She had sounded so desperate, so sad. He never realised just how much she cared. Her tears, tears for him - were surprising and unexpected.
"You haven't stopped shivering," she continued.
"I-I'm cold," he stuttered.
Her hazel eyes were anxiously as they raked over his face. "Damn it, Smallville."
Before he could respond, she sat down on the edge of the stretcher. Her hands began, rhythmically, rubbing either side of his arms in an attempt to warm him. He could see the concern, so evident in her eyes and nothing had looked more beautiful. He heard her draw in a deep, fortifying breath and then release is shakily. "You feel so cold, Clark."
Overwhelmed by a sudden impulse, he gripped her by the shoulders, drawing her closer and pressed his lips to the side of her head. She closed her eyes and leaned into him as he wrapped his arms around her. Her warmth filled him and the coldness began to abate as he held her.
"You ever scare me like that again, Smallville, you'll be sorry," she murmured in his ear, her warm breath tickling his neck.
He couldn't promise her anything. His future was filled with uncertainty. But he knew what he had to do, what he must do; visit the sight of his father's death and find answers. He would have to face his grief. He would have to face the pain of his past if he ever hoped to be free to fulfil his so called destiny.
'The pain is minimal to what the world will suffer if you do not fix what has been done to you.'
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A/N: Thanks for reading. Reviews are always appreciated! I love reading people's thoughts on my story so let me know what you think, what scenes you liked the most, and that sort of thing. Believe it or not but writer's really do enjoy reading it.
I apologise if I got any of the American football terminology wrong. I had to research it on the internet! You know I'm a huge Australian football fan, which is VERY different to American football. Some Australian terminology could have possibly slipped in there :) I'm not sure if the word 'turps' is used in America either? But I think you got the gist of it's usage.