Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. Whether or not that goal can be reached, we'll see... This is The 365 Project, 26 January.

This and the next couple of 365 Project stories may be of lesser quality, my computer is down with OS problems - Windows, what'dya expect? - and I'm having to work on the house spare.

Disclaimer: "Smallville" is the property of Warner Brothers Entertainment and DC Comics and is used for entertainment purposes without permission or intent to profit. "Superman (It's Not Easy)" is performed by Five For Fighting and also used without permission or intent to profit.

"It's Not Easy"
By J.T. Magnus

It was a dream, Clark was sure. It had to be a dream because she was dead, she had died because he had allowed himself to be swayed by the opinions of others, a stone around his neck that he would always carry. She was dead, but she was there, that's how he was sure it was a dream. The field was just one of many around Smallville, it could even have been one on his adoptive parents' own farm, and there was just the two of them there; the alien and the meta. Except it wasn't a dream, Clark remembered, she was dead and he was dying, dying after being stabbed with a blue Kryptonite knife by Zod, this was the afterlife. She was there, maybe it was even Heaven.

"It's not easy to be me," Clark commented off-handedly.

"Life's not easy, Clark," she rolled her eyes, "If it was easy, anyone could do it."

She looked up at the sky and smiled that smile that could convince him to do almost anything, he hated himself because the one time she really needed him to do something, he had refused and that was why she was dead.

"You ever wonder what it would be like to fly?" She asked, "Not teleport or run real fast, but really fly - up there among the birds and the clouds? "

"I don't think I could stand it," Clark shook his head, "I'm not that naive. I'm just out to find the better part of me."

She groaned and pushed a lock of hair back across her shoulder, "That 'better part' is already there, Clark, you're more than some pretty face running beside a train, you just have to let go sometimes and let it happen instead of always worrying about what it may bring with it. You can't keep doubting and second-guessing yourself or you'll start questioning yourself until it costs you something dear."

Clark reached out a hand and brushed it against her cheek, "It already has cost me... I wish that I could cry, fall upon my knees... Find a way to lie about a home I'll never see; you, me, a family... a home."

She sighed in frustration, "Clark, why won't you concede even heroes have the right to dream?"

"I'm not a hero," he answered sadly, "Heroes aren't the cause of everyones' problems."

"Only in the movies," she retorted, "In real life, things happen. People die, Clark, there are natural disasters, crime, war. Bad things happen to good people and you can't change that... but you can try and you can inspire others to try with you. That's a hero, Clark, a symbol, something that helps people. Not a Kansas farmboy so busy feeling sorry for himself because he made a mistake five years ago and a dozen more besides that one that he'll let himself die out of some warped kind of penance. You know what, Clark? Maybe you should listen to what I'm about to tell you..."

With that, Alica looked him in the eyes and slowly enunciated each word; "I forgive you."

Those three words, delivered softly but firmly, had enough power behind them to rock Clark back.

After a moment, he finally managed to gasp out, "What?"

"I forgive you," Alicia repeated, "You could've revealed yourself and it might not have changed a thing, but I could've went to the sheriff and Tom would never have been able to get to me and kill me. We both let what everyone was saying affect us and it drove us apart when we were stronger together, that was our mistake. Not yours, not mine, our mistake... and I forgive you, Clark, so maybe its time for you to forgive yourself."

"It may sound absurd, but don't be naive, even heroes have the right to bleed," Alica told him, "The catch is you have to know when to let yourself bleed and when you just need to put a band-aid on it and move on... you've bled long enough, Clark... put on the band-aid... Unless you want me to kiss it better?"

This last was delivered with the same devilish grin that she had worn the night she had shown up in his bedroom wearing nothing but her nightclothes. Clark had been embarrassed and a little angry with his father for catching them that night. Maybe if something had happened, he had wondered for a while after Alica was sent to Belle Reve, it would have given her an anchor so she wouldn't have gone after Lana like she had. He had been a lot more embarrassed that night than he was now, though one wouldn't be able to tell by looking at the blush on his face.

"Uh..." Clark wasn't sure what to say in response.

"I'm sorry," Alicia shook her head, "I know - you're with Lois now. She's good for you, better than Lana was, anyway."

Now Clark had his answer, he turned to the blonde and cupped her cheeks in his hands, "Alicia, she's alive and we're dead... shut up and kiss me already."

Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.