She hated this feeling.

What's worse, every time she felt it, she swore it would be the last time. But inevitably, something would happen, and it would creep up again.

The feeling that her heart had been hacked by a sledgehammer.

Roughly wiping shampoo out of her eyes, Lois sighed heavily.

What was it going to take for her to get over this?

She dumped the a third palmful of shampoo into her hand. She was nothing if not an excellent procrastinator, particularly when there was an emotional landmine she didn't want to face. And if it meant her having the cleanest hair in Kansas, well, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

After she'd practically launched herself into the shower, it occurred to her that it would have been a smart move to grab the picture that had sent her back into heartache territory and take it upstairs with her.

Because now, now Clark would no doubt see it. And realize what she had been looking at. Being the smart guy he was, it wouldn't take more than a few seconds for him to connect her sudden need for a hot shower with that picture.

Of course, odds were he wouldn't want to talk about it. After all, he hadn't shown up for coffee when she had suggested they do just that.

She just didn't want to see any pity in his eyes. That he didn't feel the same way, that his heart would always belong to someone else. Lois could handle a lot of things, growing up a military brat with General Sam Lane for a father had made her pretty resilient, but she was sure seeing a look like that directed at her by Clark would pretty much kill her.

And it wasn't that she resented him for that. She wasn't angry with him. More than anything, she was disappointed that she had allowed herself to fall for someone she knew wasn't available, no matter how many signs she thought she saw to the contrary.

Signs she had clearly read wrong.

Rinsing her hair once again, she grabbed at the bottle of conditioner, wondering just how long she could stretch out this shower.

The blueberry pancakes had long since been stacked on two plates. Orange juice sat in a pitcher on the counter.

And Clark Kent sat staring. Staring at a photo of a moment that was forever ingrained in his memory, yet seeing it from the outside?

He couldn't believe it was real.

If a photograph was capable of capturing the perfection of a moment, then this one had.

Hard to believe that seconds after it was taken, everything changed.

It had snuck up on him. Well, maybe that wasn't true. He had a feeling it had always been there, since the day he met Lois. But it was buried away beneath years of longing for a love story that wasn't realistic, that didn't work, and he knew that. He'd known it for a long time before he'd actually let it go. Because it wasn't Lana, persay, it was what she represented. The girl next door, the simple life on the farm, an easy relationship. Of course, none of those things actually described the true nature of his relationship with Lana. She had long ago stopped being the girl next door, both literally and figuratively. Nothing between them had been simple, but it had been familiar, even if the familiarity was steeped in pain and heartbreak. And their relationship had certainly never been easy.

Lois, though, she was a veritable tornado that had stormed her way into his life and turned it upside down. Yet beneath the rough exterior and the constant motion that was her life, she had somehow connected to him in a way that he'd really never let anyone else.

And that without ever revealing his secret to her.

An eyebrow rose as he finally heard, after what seemed an interminable amount of time, the shower turn off.

Decision time.

How would he play this?

Confronting her?

That had its advantages. Catching Lois off guard was a rarity for him it seemed, but when he did, that was when he was able to get her to open up a bit.

On the other hand, that also might send her packing. And he'd had enough of that.

But ignoring it? That seemed a recipe for them to simply continue in the tense holding pattern they'd been in for months.

Of course, an annoying little voice in his head reminded him, this particular holding pattern was strictly on him.

And he had to decide, what was he hoping to gain?

A return to the friendship he dearly missed? Something more? To build on the feelings he'd had for longer than he'd acknowledged?

To tell her the truth about him?

Since Chloe had been bringing it up, ad nauseum it seemed since his little Legion ring do-over, he had to admit, the thought got more and more attractive.

Of course, he had the benefit of seeing how perfectly she reacted. How amazing she'd been. Not that he'd expected anything less from her.

Then again, he also had the unfortunate experience of seeing her life turned upside down as a result of him going public with his identity and revealing Clark Kent to the world as the Red Blue Blur.

But he had no intention of doing that again. And yet…it was still a risk. Not because she couldn't handle it, she clearly could.

It was the fact that he'd muddied the waters incredibly with his phone calls to her. Phone calls that had involved deeply personal conversations that led to her revealing things she probably wouldn't have willingly revealed to Clark Kent.

The whirring of the hair dryer snapped him out of his ever so confused thoughts. He tossed the now cold pancakes on a cookie sheet and threw them in the oven to warm them up for them. His eye once again caught the picture on the counter.

He picked it up, opening the utensil drawer, ready to stash it away.

But then his hand stopped.

"For once in your life," he said to himself quietly, "stop running."

And with that, he put the photo back smack in the middle of the counter, his heart pounding in his chest as he heard her thumping down the stairs.

She entered the kitchen, her half dry hair thrown up in a ponytail and her familiar outfit of t-shirt and jeans, complete with laptop bag slung over her shoulder. She caught his eye for a moment, seeming to size up the situation, before glancing around the kitchen.

"I believe I was promised pancakes," she said.

"They're in the oven. Your marathon shower cooled them to practically Arctic temperatures."

She nodded, setting her bag down and heading to the coffee pot to pour herself a fresh cup. "Right."

No snappy comeback. She was definitely distracted.

Until she whirled back toward the counter. And then stopped dead, mug in midair.

"You know what?" she said, taking a quick swig of coffee, "Any chance I can get a doggie bag for those pancakes? Gotta head to the Planet, follow up on a lead."

"On a weekend?"

"There are no weekends for reporters. Add that to my list of rules. You want to get out of the basement, you'll learn that one backwards and forwards," she said, setting the steaming cup of coffee down and heading for her laptop bag.

She was heading for the door, hand out ready to pull at the knob, when Clark realized he had had enough.

"Don't you think we should talk about it?"

She froze, but didn't turn back toward him.

"About what?"

Frustration was beginning to creep up inside of him, a hand running roughly through his hair.

"About this," he said, gesturing to a photo she couldn't see, or probably more aptly, wouldn't see. "About Chloe's wedding."

Silence.

Silence that seemed to stretch out over years, but in actuality was mere moments.

He imagined that she was probably schooling her features, she was good at that, before she turned back to him. So it was of no surprise when she finally did turn, her face was completely impassive.

"What's to talk about?" she said, managing nonchalance, though Clark, at this point, knew her well enough to know better.

"Something happened…."

"Almost happened," she quickly corrected. "Don't forget the almost."

"Regardless."

"Not really. The almost saves us here, Clark."

"Care to explain?"

"Come on Smallville, haven't you ever been to a wedding?"

"Not many."

"Clearly. Okay, let me spell it out for you. Two single people. One heavily rebounding from his Dear John video ex. One who had taken advantage of the open bar. At a wedding. With a sickeningly happy couple celebrating love and happiness. Frankly, I would have been surprised if that near miss," she gestured toward the photo, "hadn't happened."

He looked at her, silent, confused. Shaking his head slightly, as if to make sense of her words, he reached down and picked up the photo.

"And that's all that was to you?" he finally asked quietly.

"Yup," she said, her eyes darting towards her bag as she began rifling through it for…something. "And obviously you too since you wasted no time once Lana waltzed into the barn."

Her mouth snapped shut, cheeks flushing a bit – a tell Clark had learned over the years.

That little bit hadn't been meant for his years.

"Which is cool," she said, taking another sip of coffee, her eyes anywhere but on him. "I mean, it's not like it was a state secret that Clark Kent's heart belonged totally to Lana Lang. We should just be thankful she showed up when she did. The awkward between us if she hadn't wouldn't have been pretty," she rambled, snatching her keys out of her pocket and turning for the door.

"And that's really what you think? That it was a circumstance of the wedding, nothing more?"

"Don't you?" she asked, hand on the doorknob.

"No."

He had to admit, he was pretty shocked to hear that word, in his voice, come out of his mouth. But then, she'd always done that, had a way of making him face things, say things he wouldn't normally say, bringing out a side of him that he usually kept well hidden.

Her hand had frozen on the doorknob, but she had yet to face him.

Taking a deep breath, he ventured further. "And neither do you."

A moment passed before she whirled around, her eyes practically shooting sparks. "Oh really? Clark Kent is telling me what I think now? So tell me, oh wise and apparently clairvoyant farmboy, how the hell would you know?"

He took a step towards her. "Because if you truly believed that, you wouldn't have bolted from the room when you saw that picture."

Her lips tightened.

"And you wouldn't have been avoiding me for weeks, ever since you got back from Star City."

"I've been busy," she huffed.

"And," he said, knowing he was broaching an even more touchy subject, if that was humanly possible, "you were the one who wanted to meet for coffee to talk about everything that happened the night you got back. If you really believed what you just said, Lois, there would have been nothing to talk about."

Eyes narrowed, the corner of her mouth ticked up into her characteristic smirk. "If I recall correctly, you didn't show up. So you must have chalked it up to wine and contagious wedded bliss too. Which is what I would have told you if you showed up."

His eyebrow quirked. "But you weren't there either. Right?"

She stared at him for a second, eyes widening slightly at his words, realization washing over her. "Yeah, right. I meant it's what I would have told you had we both showed up," she replied, cheeks pinkening rapidly as she readjusted her bag on her shoulder. "Whatever, it's over right? So drop it, Clark. I've got work to do," she said, a bit too sharply, before turning back toward the door.

"Lois…."

"Seriously? What part of 'I've got work to do' do we not understand?" she said, frustration evident in her voice as she whipped back around towards him.

"We're not done talking."

"Wanna bet?"

"I was there."

A simple statement. The impact of a volcano erupting.

Her eyes widened. She swallowed heavily.

"I was there," he repeated quietly. "And I know you were too."

She blinked rapidly, and Clark didn't miss the unmistakable hint of wetness she tried to hide.

"You know what? It doesn't matter, Clark. Because whether or not you were there…"

"I was across the street," he interrupted, sensing her left turn onto the Avoidance Highway. "And when I got there, I had every intention of meeting you. I did."

Her face had hardened slightly, not willing to let him see an ounce of emotion from her.

"So why didn't you?"

He smiled sadly. "Because I'm not as strong as you are. Because when I watched you, sitting there, all I could think of is what I would be losing if things went wrong for us. And not of all the amazing things that I'd be gaining if they did."

She nodded slightly, almost tersely, belying the tears that were now more obviously standing in her eyes. "Not the answer I was expecting."

"What you were expecting?"

"Something to do with a petite, gorgeous brunette."

He shrugged. "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you it had nothing to do with Lana. It's just not in the way you think."

The flash of hope that raced across her face, one she clearly tried to mask, raised his hopes slightly.

Hopes that were dashed in mere seconds.

"Whatever, Clark, it doesn't matter. It clearly wasn't meant to be, whatever the reason."

With that, she once again turned back toward the door. He watched her, to his eyes as if she was moving in slow motion.

And he realized, the moment that he saw her hand grasp the doorknob, that this was it.

If she walked out, if she left now and he let her. It would be over.

For good.

And while that would certainly be easier and a hell of a lot less scary, with sudden clarity, he knew without a doubt that that wasn't what he wanted.

The smile that lit up his face threatened to break it in two. His heart felt like it was about to pound through his bulletproof chest.

With two long strides, he was behind her, pushing the door she'd barely begun to open closed. She turned quickly, eyes flashing.

"What the hell?" she barked, pressing herself back into the door, clearly surprised by his closeness.

When he didn't say anything, just continued to stare at her with a goofy, yet heart melting (not that her heart was melting, damn it) smile, she raised a fist and lightly knocked on his forehead. "Earth to Clark? Wanna tell me why you're trapping me in your kitchen while grinning like an idiot? Cuz I gotta tell you, I'm so not in the best of moods right now and this is doing nothing to help it."

He took a deep breath. "I don't want to be scared anymore."

Bemused, she tilted her head. "Ok."

He leaned toward her. "I made a mistake that night, Lois. That night at the coffee shop, not crossing the street."

Her mouth opened, no doubt to contradict him. He gently placed his forefinger over her lips, unsurprised to see the anger flash in her eyes that followed.

"But I'm not gonna make that same mistake again."

And with that, he pressed his lips to hers.