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The winter of our discontent
Count myself a king of infinite space
All that is Left (Clark/Lana fic) 
2nd-Mar-2009 05:15 pm
hhr benath surfaces

Title: All That is Left
Characters: Lana, Clark,
Disclaimer: If I had superpowers, I'd own it all. But I don't.
Summary:   She hopes he doesn’t find her here, but knows he will anyway.
Notes:  I had actually written this during season 7. It was meant to be set in the future. I took much of it from a scene from another tv show and Clana-fied it. 


She sits in the barn watching the stars alone. She hopes he doesn’t find her here, but knows he will anyway.

She feels him near, she can always tell because of the heavenly aura he brings to her sorrow.

She looks up and he is standing on the stairs, afraid to come close but not enough to ever leave her.

“That night I told you ‘I don’t love you’ it wasn’t true.”

She doesn’t know why; if he is bring out the past, why that?

She gives a small forgiving smile. “I know Clark. You told me last year, when I came back from China and we were together. I knew with Lex you must have lied.”

He nods, recalling their conversation about this before. “I still remember the first time I saw you. Me, Pete, and Mrs. Ross went into your Aunt’s flower shop. You and Molly Simes were playing dolls... This Earth was a very new sight to see for me. The sky, the cars, the flowers. But you- you were the most breathtaking thing I had ever seen.”

She had heard him tell her this once, but it still nearly had her in tears. She blinked them away.

He took a step closer. “It was hard letting you go. Every time…It was hard seeing you again. Still really hard.”

“Do you wish I never came back?”

“No. I never wish you would go.” He quivers.

She takes a deep breath and if he is on the subject of nostalgia she can be too. She has already told him when they were together of her never-ending dreams of him saving her and of their day of Reckoning. But there is one she keeps to herself and she wants to come out with it now. His eyes are even pleading for her to do so.

“When I sleep, I have this dream where we are here,” she gestures to the loft, “and you propose to me. And every single time I say ‘yes’.”

He looks guilty. “It’s just a dream…right?”

A tear escapes the corners of her eye. Her voice shakes. “It’s my dream.” And it always will be. 


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