A/N: Finally the next chapter. I really enjoyed writing this one. Thanks so much for all the people who have been kind enough to leave a review, they are very treasured! Thanks also to my editor, VisAVis2, who just adds those finishing touches with proper use of commas and certain words I write out of context, making the chapter read that much better. Her help has been VERY appreciated.

That said, enjoy!

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Chapter 22.

Chloe snuggled under the blankets, ignoring the insistent pounding in her head. Jimmy had one arm flung across her waist, his face buried in her hair. She felt him stir.

"Are you going to get that?" he murmured in a sleepy voice.

"Hmmm … too tired."

The banging continued, followed by a voice calling out. "Chloe!"

She sat bolt upright, pushing her tangled hair out of her face. Clark? Why was he here? Her eyes rested on the digital clock as she hastily scrambled out of bed. Really, six in the morning?

"Doesn't the guy believe in sleep?" Jimmy grumbled, rolling over and pulling the blankets across himself.

Well, no, she silently mused. Clark didn't need to sleep like a regular person. Reaching for her dressing gown she hurried to the door, yanking it open.

A flustered Clark stood there.

Sudden relief swept over his face at the sight of her. "I was just about to break in."

"What – why?" She tightened the belt around her dressing gown.

"I've been knocking on the door for five minutes," he continued, his eyes boring into hers.

Clark was stressed. It wasn't like him.

"What have you been doing?"

"I have what's called a life."

"Lucky you."

It was on the tip of her tongue to give a quick retort when her eyes rested on the paper bag in his hands. She caught a waft of what smelled like ham and cheese. Her mouth watered.

"You brought me something to eat?"

He stammered, appearing awkward. "Um, no," he began, averting his gaze. "It's for Lois."

Feeling an amused smile turn up the corners of her mouth, she couldn't resist the urge to tease him. "Oh. Is that the same Lois you no longer care about?"

She enjoyed watching him squirm for a moment. It had been a long while since she'd last seen it. Lois has only been back for a couple of weeks, and already he was letting his emotions show.

"What are you doing on my doorstep at six in the morning?"

"I told Lois about Grant Gabriel," he answered.

As he had told her he would. Something was obviously bothering him. "And?"

"You know, Lois. She has this idea that maybe she should play along and …"

"Get friendly with Grant Gabriel?"

He nodded, his expression carefully guarded. But Chloe was adept at reading his face by now. He wasn't happy about it.

"And this couldn't have waited till later in the day?"

"You see her at work. I was hoping you could talk her out of it?"

"It's Lois here, Clark. When her mind is made up about something …"

"But this is different, Chloe. Lex is dangerous and I don't want Lois involved in it."

"Lois is involved whether you like it or not, Clark. Lex obviously has intentions to use her, and for the record I think she is right."

The disgruntled look on his face was exactly what she'd expected.

"Grant Gabriel is our only link to Lex Luthor. If Lex is using him, then why not us too? We have the added advantage of Lex not knowing that we know," she quickly continued before he had the chance to speak. "It's the only trump card we have."

She watched him work his jaw, sighing. Whenever it came to Lois he was so – overly protective.

"What's to say the only reason Lex has waited all these years is because the one person he could use against you had skipped town."

He needed to hear this whether he liked it or not, and given the displeased expression on his face, he obviously didn't like hearing it. Too bad.

"Probably just as well, too. There is no way I think you could have faced Lex at 18. It seems to me Jor-el knew what he was doing even if it hurt at the time. Lois is shrewd. She knows how to play her cards, Clark."

He flung his hand up in the air, an exasperated look on his face. "Can I possibly get a word in here?" he remarked dryly.

Folding her arms, she stood to her full height, despite Clark towering over her.

"Are you letting your feelings get in the way here, Clark?"

He scowled. "No."

"You could have fooled me.

He shook his head. "Okay, Chloe. You proved your point. I get it. You are right. Lois is a big girl. She can handle Grant Gabriel."

She grinned, feeling triumphant.

"Good. Now Lois can work at getting to know Grant, leaving you and me to investigate him."

He frowned. "I thought you already had?"

"On print, facts can be altered and I thought it might be a good idea to visit the Orphanage Grant was held at as a baby. Maybe we can find something further about him there?"

He nodded. "That – is a good idea."

She smiled widely. "Great, let's make it Saturday."

"Okay."

"Now, you go give Lois her breakfast before it goes cold and give her your supporting approval."

The apartment door swung firmly shut. Sighing in annoyance, he took the two flights of stairs to Lois' apartment. What had just happened? How had Chloe talked him around? Face it, Clark, because what she said made sense. Lois was involved. Once she had found out what and who he was, she was always going to be.

Clark stood indecisively at Lois' apartment door.

Normally he would just knock on her door and disappear before she had a chance to open it. He should do the same now, but part of him longed to see her face, the sleepy look in her eyes and her bed-tousled hair. This was ridiculous, he silently berated himself. He had just seen her last night. He would see her again tonight. It would seem he could never escape her now she'd reappeared in his life.

'Same place, same time tomorrow night, Clark.'

Those had been Lois' parting words at the tavern. He could still feel the warmth of her fingers curling with his long after she had left, like a life-line. His heart rate picked up at the thought. Slowly, the chinks in the armour he'd erected around his heart, were falling away.

'You have to remain focused,' he'd told himself countless times already.

But when it came to Lois, it was almost impossible. All of his senses were on full alert whenever she happened to be around. The scent of her shampoo, the warmth that radiated from her body when in close proximity. Her eyes often filled with questions, amusement, and sometimes indignation, warmth, outrage, everything that made up Lois Lane, and everything that made him feel more alive when he was with her.

It was about time he got out of there. Raising a hand, Clark was about to knock when the door flew open. A flustered Lois stood there, the cat in one arm. Surprise at the sight of him barely registered on her face.

She merely shoved the cat at him. "He's all yours."

Spying the paper bag, she snatched it out of his hand. "Thanks." He watched her storm back into her unit.

Feeling stunned, he just stood there, the cat dangling from his hand. It began to meow pitifully.

"What did you do to upset her?" he murmured, running his other hand over its back in an attempt to settle him.

Regaining his senses, Clark walked into her apartment.

"I don't know how Shelby will take to a cat," he began, placing the cat on the bench. "Why are you so angry at it?"

She turned to him furiously, and gestured wildly to the curtains.

"Look at what he did!" she exclaimed.

The curtains were practically ripped to shreds.

"Something must have set him off."

Ignoring Lois' glare he walked over to the window. Opening the window as far as it would go, he gazed out. There was a fire escape railing; it looked wonky.

He felt Lois beside him, caught a waft of her apple scented hair shampoo. It brought a sense of nostalgia for the old days, days he'd sworn to forget. As a means to distract himself, he used his heat vision to repair a couple of broken rails.

"What are doing?" she asked, sounding bemused.

"Fixing it."

"You happen to be a regular repairman now, Clark," she quipped. Her voice broke off there and she leaned further out the window. Her arm brushed up against his. He ignored the tingling warmth coursing through him.

"My ashtray is gone," she exclaimed.

Clark spied it lying on the cement ground, four stories below, broken in many pieces. The fine hairs rose on the back of his neck. Someone was out here, last night, watching her. He could sense it. Closely inspecting the window, he found what looked like scratch marks at the lock, as if someone had used a sharp blunt instrument to open the window.

"What is it, Clark?"

He glanced at her face, which was only inches from his. "I think someone was out here last night and tried to break in, Lois. I guess the cat saw them and …"

"Was trying to protect me?" Her face softened as the realisation took hold.

They both went to move back from the window at the same time; Clark found his body suddenly pressed against hers. His heart rate skyrocketed, and much to his growing horror, another part of his anatomy was responding.

Colour suffused her face.

"Sorry," he mumbled, hastily stepping back.

An amused smile crossed her face, a teasing glint in her hazel eyes. He waited for some witty retort; however, she walked over to the bench and picked up the cat. As he watched her stroke the cat's fur, a brief memory of the way she used to stroke his hair came to mind. He recalled how nice it had felt, and how long ago it was since anyone had last touched him in an intimate way.

He quickly swallowed, tore his gaze away from her and glanced at the window. "You should have bars on that window, Lois."

She merely snorted. "And feel a prisoner in my own place. I hate bars. I spent a month locked up in a military prison."

He blinked, recalling how she had hit an officer. He never did find out why. Didn't she tell him it had been a week initially? Now it was a whole month. His mouth went dry. There was so little he knew about her anymore. He couldn't imagine her locked away; she would have hated it. He forced his mind to focus. Why had someone tried to break into her apartment? It could be just some local druggie looking for quick cash, or it could be tied in with Lex. He wouldn't put it past Lex to hire some thug to break into Lois' apartment, and look for what exactly? And Lex had Grant Gabriel at his service. It probably was just someone looking for money to steal. Or maybe Lex had hired someone to plant a bug in her apartment? Either way it left him feeling unsettled. Using his x-ray vision he scanned her apartment, but there was no sign of any bugs secretly planted.

"I'm surprised you slept through it."

"I guess the half bottle of Bourbon I drank had a part to play in that."

He turned to her in astonishment. She drank half a bottle of Bourbon!

"Relax, Smallville. Half a bottle is nothing."

He was just about to speak when she held up a hand.

"Save the lecture. I've already heard it a million times over."

Gritting his teeth, he sat down on a nearby stool. There was no point in saying anything to her about it, but he did have one question.

"Why do it?"

Given the slightly surprised look on her face, she hadn't expected him to ask.

"It helps me sleep."

"There are sleeping tablets …" he began.

"They don't stop the nightmares." She drew a breath, and he could tell that was hard for her to confess. "And some nights I just can't face it."

He didn't need to ask; he already knew her nightmares were a result of her time in Iraq. He couldn't help worrying. What had she seen over there that was so bad? And she didn't have to face it alone; hadn't she always told him that when she had lived at the farm? She had been so strong, dragging him out of his own self-doubts and pity.

"I know of a good therapist," he began, but she held up another dismissive hand.

"Been there already, Clark. I don't need therapy."

An awkward silence followed. What did it take for her to see reason? Maybe he didn't have to look much further than the past.

"You remember when I was laid up in bed with that knee injury," he slowly began. "You gave me Lord of the Rings to read," he continued. "And then you asked me if I had learned anything from it."

Her face lit up with curiosity as her eyes met with his. She nodded.

"And I said, when you have a quest you can't do it alone."

"This isn't a quest, Clark."

He raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it? Because it seems to me quests come in different ways, and what you're going through – you don't have to do it alone, Lois."

His words were oddly moving, and trust him to use the past. She opened her mouth, about to give some glib reply, but nothing came out.

He had her there. She could feel him watching her. "I guess I have my pride." Which was fast becoming sorely dented, but part of her appreciated this open communication. How she had missed it.

"You've seen me at my worst, Lois."

And she had. It was true. She chanced a glance his way. His gaze was so open, honest and non-judging. It had been a long while since she had last seen that expression on his face. They had been so close once, just the memory of it made her heart ache heavily.

"I guess that goes both ways." Though not really; her worst had been directly after the bomb blast.

It would be so easy to tell him, lean on him for support. But Lois Lane was a tough girl, and trusting her heart never had come easily. With her feelings towards him three years ago, she had let that guard down, but she couldn't do that again, not yet. She had to tread carefully when it came to Clark. Last night's conversation had been indicative of where his thoughts and feelings lay. This was the guy who had once voiced the fear that becoming Kryptonian could mean losing his humanness, only to turn around and ask his biological father to eradicate his emotions. Sure, he might now see that emotions are necessary, but that didn't mean he was willing to risk his heart again. And that meant neither could she. She had already told him too much.

"What are you thinking?"

His voice broke her out of her musings.

She felt warmth crawl up her neck and into her cheeks under his interested gaze.

"I'm thinking that I need to start getting ready for work."

She wasn't ready to talk yet, and judging by Clark's expression, he understood that.

Standing up from the stool, he nodded in her direction. "Yeah, I have to get going."

Watching him walk towards the door, a host of conflicting emotions assailed her. She was filled with such a sudden longing for him, a longing she had to fight hard to suppress.

"Clark," she called out just as he reached the door.

Turning around, his eyes sought hers. 'Don't go,' she wanted to say. Suddenly feeling awkward and a bit embarrassed, she swallowed. "Thanks."

A slow, warm smile flickered across his face. She stood, mesmerised by it. For once Clark was smiling at her, and not as a result of patting an animal. She had put that smile of his face, and it felt good.

"You're welcome," came his reply, before he turned back around and disappeared through the door.

Lois managed to make her legs move, inwardly cursing this effect he had over her. She stumbled to the bathroom, recalling his words. You don't have to do it alone.

Her eyes met with her reflected image in the mirror. But she did. She had done it alone most of her life, except for her brief time at the farm.

During basic training she had kept to herself. It hurt too much to get close to people, only to lose them.

She had an image to maintain. No-nonsense, tough Army girl, who took no shit from anyone. She could run as fast as the men, was as physically strong. She even had the super short unfeminine hair to go with the image. It had been easy to maintain, until Iraq. It was there that she began to realize she needed people. Seeing the wistful look in Sarah's eyes when she talked about her fiancée made her feel as if a knife had been thrust in her heart. She didn't want to spend the rest of her life alone. But it was hard to change. The defensive mechanism had been so deeply ingrained in her that it became the only way she knew how to deal with things.

Lois typed up her article on Lex Luthor and his charity ball. She tried hard to remain objective, but her thoughts kept wandering. Lex Luthor wanted to know everything she knew about Clark Kent; fat chance of that happening. What was worse was that he was using Grant Gabriel to do that! Her fingers angrily pounded the keyboard.

She liked Grant. She couldn't see him as a bad guy, not totally. Lex obviously had something over him. Part of her wanted to go straight up to Grant and demand an answer. Unwise, Lois, she silently chided. Instead she smiled brightly at him when he approached her desk.

"Lois Lane," he began, "Just the person I want to see."

He all but perched himself on the edge of her desk. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and a tie hung loosely around his collar.

"How is that article coming along?"

Returning her attention to the screen, she muttered. "It's coming."

Grant leaned across the desk, his shoulder almost brushing hers. Was that deliberate? She had to admit that he was quite gorgeous in a boyish charming way, and if it weren't for Clark, she'd probably even be interested in him.

"Not quite the glowing praise I'd hoped for."

She merely snorted. "I'm sure you'll edit it to your liking."

He leaned back, a puzzled frown denting his forehead.

"Why are you so against him?"

"Why do you defend him?" She pinpointed him with a steely gaze. "It's not as if you even know him."

He ran a hand up the back of his neck, a brief flicker of hesitation flashing in his eyes.

Don't aggravate him too much Lois, she quietly warned herself. Remember to pretend she was at least partially interested in him, not to the point it would make him suspicious, just enough to make him feel confident in that he was making some progress with her.

"You know what I need," she began, "a maple doughnut and a coffee. You can shout."

A warm smile crossed his face.

"Okay, Lane."

Getting to her feet, she reached for her coat. "Who knows, maybe you can convince me of how great Lex Luthor is."

"For the record, I don't think he's great. What political leader is? But neither is there any evidence to say he's as bad as you think."

She shot him a speculative look. An interesting thing for Grant to say. Her curiosity was operating in full gear now.

She was on a mission, with or without Clark's blessing, and there was nothing like a good mission to help her focus.

Everything was perfectly fine, as she and Grant chatted amicably over coffee. He never mentioned Clark's name. They didn't discuss Lex Luthor either. Lois couldn't help being bemused by the irony of the situation; here they were both using each other. Only he had no idea. She would sooner die than tell Grant Gabriel anything about Clark Kent. Clark would be the world's saviour one day. Her other mission in life was to make sure he reached that destiny. Whether Clark wanted her to or not, he had no say in it.

Her eyes rested on Grant's handsome features. It was odd, but there was almost a certain kind of naivety about him. As if he hadn't really lived all that long. He possessed a boyish type of refreshing eagerness.

He ate with gusto, chatting in between mouthfuls about his experiences as a journalist and taking the bull by both horns. She could relate to that.

"Live life for the moment, that's what my father always used to say." His voice, those words, opened a door.

"You sound as if you were close to him."

His fork went still. "I can barely remember him. He died when I was eight."

She shot him a sympathetic look. "My Mom died when I was six. I know how much it sucks to lose a parent."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

She shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

Grant shovelled a forkful of food into his mouth.

"What about your mom?" she casually asked.

Shadows flickered in his eyes. He went strangely still for a moment. "She died at the same time. It was a car accident."

Now she felt kind of awful for him.

"I'm sorry," she began.

He waved off her concern. "Like you said, Lois. It was a long time ago. I guess it was the trigger that inspired me to become a journalist."

Her curious gaze met his.

"The other driver who ploughed into my parents' car was high on drugs. He was escaping the scene of a crime; he'd robbed some local liquor store," he continued.

Picking up a napkin, he dabbed at his lips. "I kept waiting for justice that would never come."

He flung the napkin on the table. "In the end I figured I would write it as it is."

She was impressed. "I can relate to that."

He smiled. "I know you can; that's what I like about you, Lane."

She was struggling to decipher what was truth here, and what wasn't, such was the sincerity on Grant's face.

"We probably should head back to work," he continued.

It was unusually humid outside. Lois could feel the perspiration trickle down the back of her neck as they walked along the street. Her hair felt like a heavy mop that hung in clumps around her face. Two men dressed in Arabic attire were arguing in halting English. A sudden wave of dizziness swept over her. She stumbled.

Grant placed a steadying hand to her elbow. "Are you okay, Lois?"

She nodded. "Yeah, it's hot."

Quite suddenly, the world began to spin. She felt closed in, her breathing coming in short, quick breaths. Her heart rate increased. She could feel the blood rushing to her head. No, not here, she murmured as the all too familiar feeling of panic began to take hold. Images of the busy city street swam before her eyes, replaced with another street, filled with terror and strife. Voices echoed around her, a woman screaming, children wailing. Her whole body began to shake uncontrollably.

"Lois," came Grant's insistent voice, "Lois!"

She blinked, his face coming into view. It felt like she was staring through a distorted long lens, where nothing looked real anymore.

"I'm fine."

But she wasn't. She had to get out of there. She couldn't let Grant see her like this. There was no way she could handle a flashback. Her eyes frantically searched for an escape route. They landed on a hair dressing salon, the same one she had visited just a couple of days ago.

"You know I just remembered I had booked a hair appointment," she glanced at her watch, "Oh crap, I'm already ten minutes late."

She began to back away from him and the puzzled frown on his forehead.

"I'll see you back at the office."

With that, she made a hasty retreat, straight for the hair salon. She could only hope to god that would stop the flashback from happening.

Right now she didn't care if Grant thought she was acting in an odd way. Hell, of course she was. Damn it, but there was no way she'd chance freaking out in the middle of a street, with a dozen on-lookers.

Pushing the door open she stepped into the hair salon. Her heart thumped erratically in her chest. Screwing her eyes shut, she leaned against the door for a moment, taking comfort from the blast of cold air on her flushed face. Thank god for air conditioning, she inwardly sighed. In here, cut away from the chaos of the street, her world began to steady. She took a few deep fortifying breaths.

"Can I help you?" a female voice asked.

Lois eyes sprung open. It was okay. She was in Metropolis, the world was normal and she hadn't lost it – yet.

She took in the simple décor of the hair dressing salon. A Cyndi Lauper song from the 80's was playing on a nearby radio. She glanced at the young woman with her perfectly styled hair and make-up. You wouldn't get that in Iraq.

"I don't suppose you could fit me in for a haircut?"

That would help with steadying her nerves. Distract her for a time. She had been intending to grow it out, something she had failed miserably at for the last couple of years. It would get to a length where it wasn't quite long enough to tie back, but still long enough to fall in her face and drive her crazy. Right now she couldn't wait to cut it all off.

"You're in luck," the young woman smiled in a pleasant way, "There has been a cancellation."

Great, finally some luck had fallen her way, because the last thing she felt like facing was that busy street out there.

Three hours had passed. Lois had had just about every beauty treatment she could afford. She allowed the hair stylists, Bronwyn, to talk her into having some honey blond foils in her hair, because that would kill another hour. Then there was a manicure, followed by a facial, and the she decided she might as well get her eyebrows waxed. However, she was going to have to go back out on that street sooner or later.

She peered out the window. It was still just as busy out there, everything looked normal enough, but how could she be sure. Terrorists blended in just like everyone else, anyone could have explosives strapped to their bodies, hidden by bulky coats. But she couldn't stay here forever; Bronwyn was already beginning to send strange looks her way.

Sighing, Lois pulled her phone out and called Chloe.

"Lois," she exclaimed. "Where have you been?"

"I'll explain when I see you. Right now I need a favour."

"What?"

"Can you come and pick me up?"

"Where are you?"

"At 'Amanda's Amazing Hair Salon'."

There was a brief silence at the other end before Chloe spoke, confusion in her voice. "Lois, isn't that only a block away from work?"

She clenched her jaw, damn it, but she was going to have to be honest with Chloe.

"Yes, I'll tell you all about it in the car, but right now I can't go out on that street."

Chloe pulled up to the front of the hair salon. Lois had sounded stressed, and something was wrong with her. Why couldn't she go out on the street? She watched Lois emerge from the door, dash across the footpath and climb into the car. She looked different.

"What did you do to your hair?"

"It's a choppy short bob, whatever that is," Lois shrugged. "I just liked the picture." She turned to look at her. "Does it look bad?"

Chloe's eyes skimmed over her hair. "Actually, I kind of like it, especially the colour, though it's a bit short and I thought you were going to grow it long again?"

"A change of plans at the last minute," she muttered, fumbling in her handbag. "Do you mind if I smoke in here? I'm dying for a cigarette."

"You can't wait five more minutes?"

Lois looked up, her eyes widening at the sight of the Daily Planet going by.

"Chloe, why aren't you stopping?" She exclaimed.

"We need to go somewhere and talk."

Lois slumped back in her car seat. "Okay, just make it somewhere quiet with no people around."

Chloe found a park. They walked over to the lake. Lois seemed on edge. She had waited for her to talk, but it didn't look like that was going to happen.

"Okay, what gives Lois?" she finally asked, after they had sat down on a bench.

Lois had already smoked three cigarettes, one after another.

"I had sort of like a panic attack," she blurted out, "I didn't want to become office gossip fodder or Grant Gabriel to witness so I found the first escape route I could."

"And got a make-over to boot," Chloe added.

"I even had a manicure." Lois held up her hand.

"Hmm, it takes the attention away from your yellow stained fingers," she lightly quipped.

Lois scowled at her. She knew Chloe was waiting for her to talk, which was easier said than done. She just wanted to forget the whole incident, but if she ever hoped to leave this park then she would have to give Chloe something.

"Since leaving Iraq, I sometimes suffer anxiety," she mumbled.

"I already know that, Lois."

She threw her hands up in the air. "Well then what else is there to say?"

"You've just spent three hours in a hair salon, too afraid to step out on a normal city street and you act as if that is fine. Don't you think maybe it's time you talked about what happened in Iraq?"

She vehemently shook her head. "No. I just want to forget all about it."

"Yet, you can't."

Lois took a deep pained breath. "I just need time."

Silence elapsed once again.

"It's been six months, Lois," Chloe finally spoke, a resigned sadness in her voice. "I'm concerned about you."

Lois pulled another cigarette out of the packet in her bag. "Don't be. I'm tough. I'll be fine."

"Clark's worried too."

Her hand froze for a moment. Trust Chloe to bring him into this. Feeling suddenly annoyed, she pointed a finger in her face. "Don't say anything about this to Clark. Promise me, Chloe. He already knows too much. Clark needs to remain focused on Lex Luthor, not worrying about me, though I can't figure out why he would be."

Chloe bit down on her lip. A realization began to take hold.

"Please don't tell me that you told him the real reason as to why I left?"

Chloe's silence only confirmed her worst fears.

"He needed to know, Lois," came her reply at length.

She closed her eyes, and shook her head. That explained a lot. Why he wasn't so cold towards her. She really couldn't blame Chloe for telling him. It was all water under a bridge now as it were. Truth was, Clark was like a solid foundation in her life.

She would always love him. When it came to him, she couldn't help it. Who else was she going to fall in love with?

Lois spied Clark sitting in the corner, his observant gaze taking in his surroundings. She stood quietly, watching him for a moment, drinking in the sight of him wearing ordinary workman's clothes. Memories from the morning returned. The reclusive Clark Kent still had such a warm caring heart beneath his nonchalant façade. Then her conversation with Chloe in the park also came back to mind. Clark's worried too. He was probably blaming himself for everything, as he always did.

It was only a matter of time before his gaze found hers. It had been a trying day and she really needed a drink. Walking up to the bar she ordered a pint of beer and walked over to Clark's table.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Smallville," she casually spoke as she sat down on a chair.

She watched with interest as his eyes rested on her hair. He looked at her wordlessly. Yes, well it did seem to have that effect on people. She brought a self-conscious hand up to the back of her neck, tugging on the short blunt ends of her hair.

"Did you feel like another change?" he asked.

She smiled at his words. He had a good memory.

"I guess." And Chloe better not have told him the real reason she spent the better part of the day in a beauty salon.

Picking up her glass of beer, she took a sip and raised tentative eyes to his.

"What do you think?"

He frowned. "Of what?"

She rolled her eyes. "My hair, Clark."

His expression, as always, was carefully guarded. "It's a bit short, Lois."

Oh, well at least that was something. But she couldn't help wanting to get more from him.

"Do you like it?"

He blinked, looking unsure. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

Picking up his beer, he took a long swig. She still found it hard to adjust seeing him drink beer, even if it didn't affect him.

"It's okay, I guess."

"You guess?"

"What do you want me say?"

"The truth."

"I prefer it longer."

She wanted an honest answer from him and she got it.

"Yeah," she sighed. "So do I."

He looked completely perplexed now. "Then why did you cut it?"

She shrugged. "Habit."

There really were times when he just couldn't figure her out.

"Like smoking?"

A hint of a smile tilted up the corners of her mouth. "I guess; I seem to like to do things that are bad for me."

He felt like shaking some sense into her. He had the feeling that everything bad she did was like a form of self-punishment. And why did she feel so compelled to punish herself? Was this to do with what happened to her in Iraq? His eyes rested on her hair. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen it that short before and even shorter, but for completely different reasons.

He wasn't sure on what to say next, and was saved from having to answer when her gaze seemed suddenly occupied by someone at the bar. A look of surprise crossed her face.

"Well," she began, "What do you know. Bob has finally decided to turn up."

Getting up from her chair, she gave him a quick half smile. "Time for a chat."

He watched her walk up to the bar, and sit down on the stool next to Bob. His head was still reeling. She had that effect over him, with her rash impulsive actions. He never knew what to expect next. Only when it came to Lois, expect the unexpected. But he couldn't help worrying; I seem to like to do things that are bad for me. Why? He had the sinking feeling that in part he was to blame. He should never have told her who and what he was all those years ago. That way Lex couldn't have used her, and neither could Jor-el. She only joined the Army as a means to find a way to leave him, because Jor-el had frightened her into doing so. She never would have gone to Iraq. She never would have suffered and seen whatever it was she had seen, and she wouldn't be in this current mess, smoking and drinking to deal with nightmares. He wanted to pull her into his arms, and tell her that she should get as far away as she could from him, have a life and find happiness.

But knowing Lois, she would simply tell him no. And if he was perfectly honest with himself – he didn't want her to leave him – not ever – not again. Somehow or other he had to find a way to fix all of this.

Glancing up at the bar, Lois gestured with her head for him to join her. Picking up his beer he sat in the stool next to her.

"What now, Smallville?" she whispered in his ear. "You're the detective here."

Right now thinking like a detective was the last thing on his mind. "Normally you have all of the answers, Lois."

She smiled, amused. He resisted the urge to brush his thumb across her pretty lips. And she did look exceptionally pretty tonight, though he couldn't figure out why? Despite her too-short haircut.

"You do the talking, Lois. I'll commit it to memory."

She raised a speculative eyebrow. "Because you have that super photographic memory now."

He gave her a sardonic look. "Yeah."

Clark met Chloe at the café they usually had lunch at. She bought a coffee and then drove to the Orphanage Grant Gabriel spent time in as a baby. It was a good hour's drive.

"Have you seen Lois lately?" Chloe asked as she drove.

He was gazing out the window, watching the drizzle of rain leaving tracks on the glass.

"I saw her last night at the tavern."

Chloe glanced his way, a disgruntled expression on her face. "Then you've seen her latest hair do."

"It's kind of hard to miss."

"I've spent the last fortnight trying to instill some feminity back into her, but it's like she's spent so long being around men in a man's domain that she's forgotten what it is to be a girl."

He frowned at her words, slightly bemused. "Lois has always been a tomboy."

Chloe shook her head, and Clark had the distinct impression there was something further to this that she wasn't telling him.

"Okay, maybe, but this is different and I'm worried about her," she continued.

So was he. In the last week, he'd come to the conclusion that she was a train wreck waiting to happen. Could he catch her when she fell? He hadn't slept in days, and even though he could go without sleep for a time, he was beginning to feel the effects of it. Tonight he was going running. He would run and run till he collapsed from exhaustion, and then he could sleep without a care in the world.

"I'm sure she would talk to you more than to me," he murmured, tracing the path of one single droplet.

"Don't be so sure," Chloe muttered under her breath, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "Truth is, Clark, I think other than me you've probably been closer to her than anyone."

"Yeah, and I can't help feeling I'm to fault here," he muttered bitterly.

"Don't start with that. Don't do that whole 'I'm an alien and the woes of this world are a result of it' thing."

What was with these girls? They were just so forthright. Removing his finger from the glass window, he turned in his seat to face her.

"Truth is, Clark, our world without you in it, just wouldn't be the same."

He considered her words for a moment, feeling touched. Maybe she had a point.

"But anyone who knows my secret is just collateral damage," he added.

Chloe sighed deeply and shook her head. "No and yes. Unfortunately our world happens to have its fair share of sociopaths like Lex Luthor and sometimes you have to be willing to die for what's right."

He scowled at those words. "At my expense?"

She felt like stamping her foot in frustration. "Yes, Clark, maybe so."

Didn't he get it? You are, but are not like us; you are so much more.

"I don't want to talk about it," he muttered, returning his attention to the passing scenery.

"You know, you and Lois make a fine pair," she muttered. "You are both stubborn and frustrating."

Sometimes she felt like smacking him out, not that she could.

"And for the record, Clark. I also happen to be so-called collateral damage. I have to lie to Jimmy every day of the week because I know your secret, and Lex could just as easily use me as he plans to use Lois …"

"Then it's just as well he hasn't figured that out yet," Clark abruptly butted in. "The less people who know what I am and get hurt as a result, the better."

"You can't do this alone, Clark."

Trust her to throw those words in his face. Hadn't he just used those very same words to Lois the other morning?

"You need people too."

He shook his head, feeling the bitterness return.

"You can't begin to imagine the number of times I wished to be ordinary."

"But you're not," she bluntly pointed out. "And if you're referring to Lois here, then don't. Chance and circumstance are never set in concrete. Maybe Lois might not have joined the Army, but then what is to say she wouldn't, irrespective of knowing you or not. Clark, you can't predict the decisions someone makes."

Silence lapsed. Every now and again she glanced his way, a heaviness residing in her chest. Why was it that the two people she cared so much about were suffering? She had to believe. She had to believe that it would all turn out okay.

"Just as you can't always control who you fall in love with."

She should know all about that! And as much as Clark wouldn't admit it, he loved Lois. She could see it so clearly written across his face.

"Just because you're not human, Clark, it doesn't matter. You still grew up as one of us and that makes you very much – like us."

Chloe's words continued to haunt him as she parked in the visitor's bay of the St Jerome's Orphanage. He had told Lois much the same thing – you don't have to do it alone, yet, she still did. Maybe Chloe was right? Him and Lois made a fine pair, both were stubborn, both head strong in their own way and both erecting walls around their hearts, preferring to suffer in silence.

"What is it about these places?" Chloe spoke in a hushed voice as they ascended the front stone steps. "They always seem so gloomy and depressing."

"I guess it's an institution like any. A home for lost souls."

"How poetic of you," she quipped with wry amusement.

The halls reeked of disinfectant and moth balls. Clark screwed up his nose. His sense of smell was overly acute and he almost found himself gagging.

The wooden floor boards were polished. Everything about the place was well ordered, prim and sterile, lifeless almost.

He didn't like it. What if his parent's hadn't found him the day of the meteor shower? How different his life could have been. Maybe he would have even ended up in a place like this, or even worse, a lab rat being experimented on.

They found themselves ushered into the Directors office. A well groomed lady in her late 60's sat at a wide mahogany desk, hands clasped one over the other. Her grey hair was brushed back into a bun. She looked composed and austere.

"How can I help you?"

"I only recently found out I was adopted. I've been trying to find my birth parents ever since," Chloe began.

The woman peered over her spectacles. "I'm afraid I can't reveal that information, Miss …"

"Brown," Chloe offered. "And I already know who my parents are Ma'am, but I've also learned that I apparently had a brother."

"He was sent to this Orphanage?"

Chloe nodded. "Yes ma'am."

"What was his name?"

"Grant Gabriel."

Clark had to give her credit. Chloe was good at acting the part.

"I need to find out who his adoptive parents were. I was hoping you would have that record on file here," she continued.

A carefully hooded shutter closed over the older woman's face. It puzzled him. For a moment he could almost swear she knew something.

"I'm sorry I can't help you Miss …"

"Brown."

Chloe still had that earnest expression on her face. It amazed him as to how that expression so quickly changed to one of disappointment. "Are you sure? I'm desperate here."

But the look on the woman's face was set in stone.

"I really am sorry, but I don't recall ever hearing that name. Maybe you have the wrong orphanage?"

The woman all but ushered them out of her office after that.

They stood in the empty hallway, Chloe turned to him, a determined look on her face. "She's lying."

"I know."

"We have to get to that filing cabinet, Clark. I'll distract her, and you do your thing."

He nodded.

Chloe began wailing pitifully. It echoed through the eerie corridors, making him shiver. He pulled himself up with a start.

"Someone help me!" he yelled.

Two women wearing white pinafores suddenly appeared as Chloe collapsed to the floor.

"I don't know what is wrong. Please help her."

The older woman appeared from the office, frowning.

"Quiet her down. She'll scare the children."

On hearing that, Chloe wailed even louder. "I want my brother! I can't deal with this – I want him."

She began to sob uncontrollably. Clark, taking that as his cue, super-speed out of there and into the office.

He scanned through the filing cabinet at super speed, looking at everything from the year Grant was apparently born, and the year before and after, but no matter how far he searched there was no file on Grant Gabriel. Time was against him now; his search was fruitless. Slamming the last drawer of the filing cabinet shut, he zoomed out of the office and back into the corridor.

Chloe, spying him out of the corner of her eye, immediately stopped crying. She slowly sat up. He couldn't help marvelling at how she did that.

"I-I … think I'm feeling better now."

Clark rolled his eyes. The older matron woman looked relieved. "You have caused quite the debacle here Miss …"

"Brown," Chloe finished for her, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her coat.

Clark felt it was time to intervene.

"She always does this," he offered by way of explanation. "I'm sorry. It happens at every orphanage we visit. She's so desperate to find her brother."

The elder woman turned to him. "Can you please take her out of here?"

She really was such a cold woman. Sympathy washed over him for any poor child placed in her care.

Nodding, he quickly helped Chloe to her feet.

"I'm sorry for the disturbance."

Once outside, they walked to the car. "Where is the file, Clark?" Chloe hissed. "Because my Oscar winning performance had better not have been in vain."

He took a deep breath.

"There is no file, Chloe. Are you sure you have the right orphanage?"

"Yes."

"Well, I didn't find anything."

"Are you sure?"

"Perfectly. I even checked several years before and after his supposed year of birth."

Once they were in the car, Chloe put the keys in the ignition and then stopped. She slowly turned haunted, worried eyes to his. "I don't think Grant Gabriel even exists." Her breath caught in her throat.

A cold chill swept over him.

"That – can't be."

There had to be an explanation.

"If Grant Gabriel doesn't exist, then who is he and – what is he?"

"I don't know," she murmured. "But whatever he is, Lex knows."

Lex again. It always came down to him. Lex was the provable thorn in his side. To make matters worse, he was using this mystery man to get to Lois. He swallowed, experiencing a sudden dread.

He had to get back to her. He had to warn her. She'd already been through enough. He wouldn't risk her sacrificing anything further for him. Somehow or another he had to make her see reason. Collateral damage or not, he could never live with himself if anything happened to her as a result of him being what he was, and her willing to sacrifice herself for some greater good; namely him.

You really think I could live with that on my conscience? Is what he had wanted to tell Chloe in the car on the drive to the orphanage. You just don't get it; nobody does.

They didn't understand that to be different, powerful, sought after, considered a freak, with people wanting to exploit him along with people wanting to protect him - and all the while he just wanted to live a life with some normalcy to it. They just didn't – get it. Nobody did, and in that regard, he truly was alone.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Feedback and comments are always very much appreciated. You will be happy to know I've already written a couple of thousand words on the next chapter so hopefully you won't have to wait long for the next chapter, providing the writing flow continues to flow :)

Happy New Year to all my wonderful readers!