Before we get started on this little journey, I'd like to give thanks to everyone who's been waiting on me to finish We always fail destiny. Rest assured, that monster is not dead. I've just had other things on my mind, and now I'm currently revising the story but am not yet ready to commit fully to it because of this story. It's a story I've wanted to write for over a year, and since I'm wanting to jump back into writing, I figured I might as well do it with a clean story slate.

Beware. I will focus on Lana Lang. I will write Chloe Sullivan. I don't hate these characters(well, lie, sometimes Lana I do). So, if these two are dealbreakers, then goodbye. For the rest of you, let's see what's next, shall we?

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Title: This is before time wore you down to history

Chapter: 1/?

Main Characters: Clark, Lois, Clark/Lois, Lana

Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from Smallville or DC Comics

Spoilers: Goes AU after "Escape" - Season 9 & 10 spoilers as well

A/N: Clark is ready to tell Lois his secret, until the unimaginable happens that brings their relationship to a stand still.

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ONE

"It must have been so hard, being so different, having everyone judge you before they
even know you, knowing that there's some people who might never accept you."

-Chloe Sullivan, circa Pariah

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Clark Kent has a secret. It cradles him at night and hushes him in the daylight. He looks at Lois, sometimes in the morning as she's slamming her keyboard and sometimes during the evening when she chews her lip. He looks at her and his secret jumps out of his heart and heads straight to her. But he and his secret have always been afraid, especially when it comes to love.

Experience hasn't been kind to him. He thinks of Lana. He always means to learn from his mistakes, but some habits are hard to shake. Maybe he is destined to end up alone. Alone, like he has been since he crashed onto Earth.

He sees Lois. She's spinning in her chair – a slow news day. He watches her, their lunch in his hands waiting until he's soaked her up enough. She spies him and stops abruptly, her mouth shaping into a grin.

Alone.

He thinks of his parents, Chloe, Oliver, even J'onn. She does that to him. When he forgets his life, she keeps him tied to his humanity, his hope. In that moment he decides it's time she knows, tonight. Friday night.

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One week. Seven little days. All his dreams were supposed to have come true. They hadn't.

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He was going to cook her dinner and tell her he loved her and that he was the Blur. But as the night came to a close and his secret was still secret, he'd stalled. His mouth had opened to tell her and nothing rushed out.

Old habits, old fears.

She'd laughed at him, a hand on his chest, a kiss pressed to his lips.

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Saturday night in his kitchen, working on an article, she'd handed him a box. His eyebrow quirked when she'd smiled.

"What's this, Lois?"

Her shoulder had lifted, a smile caressed her features. So, he'd opened it. Out came a telescope, not like his old one, not with those heavy memories. He'd smiled, holding it in both hands. Yes, he remembered this act.

"I thought you said telescopes were for geeks and stalkers?"

She'd laughed with him, eyes aglow. She lit him up too.

"As has been proven in the past, a few times, I can misjudge people," her tongue showed.

He'd shaken his head. Only Lois.

"This is why I love you."

The words were out before he could stop them. If only his secret would learn. He'd watched her face and waited for her to flee, hoping she wouldn't. She hadn't. What happened next was slow and deliberate – she'd come to him, knees meeting his knees and eyes peering down at him.

His heart had pounded inside his steely chest. His secret seemed to be holding its breath. They'd said this before, not so direct, but if for always and forever wasn't love, nothing could be.

"I love you, Lois," his throat was rough.

Her body had found his lap, her hands his face. She'd looked at him the longest time. The secret skittered under his skin and he'd hoped she hadn't seen it. He'd been ready before. Now times were different and he'd thought one more day of these wonderful things wouldn't hurt.

They'd kissed. Her love wordless.

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The next afternoon he'd packed a picnic. They'd sat under a tree, her shoes thrown past the blanket and her hair tucked up. His arm held her shoulders and she'd leaned into him, perfect, like the sunset. Fear surrounded him. Like Lana, she might run from him. She might not understand the deception. Later. Later he would tell her.

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On Monday their story had broken open. Clark Kent was more useful than The Blur.

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Tuesday had everything planned, this time at her apartment. Somewhere between the Wii and the telling, he'd left with an excuse. The Blur wouldn't let him go tonight.

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The following day was the impact. The ground shook. He'd taken her arm. She'd steadied herself. They'd taken off in different directions.

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When Thursday came they were both tired. Her of dead ends and he of his secret. She'd sighed, hands over her face.

"Can I just…call in a rain check? I'm so tired, Clark. I'm cranky and Randall has been working me to death with this impact story and I just want to go home and take the longest shower known to man."

He'd rolled his way to grab hold of her armrest and pulled her to his chair. They'd collided, metal with metal, smile with smile, hers a little breathless when he'd leaned into her.

"Get some rest, Lois. I'll see you tomorrow."

"TGIF. Alright, I'm out of here. Any last comments or requests from the peanut gallery?"

"Drive safe, and can I get the exclusive interview when Metropolis wakes up to a hot water shortage?"

Her hand had swatted his arm before her lips kissed him goodbye.

"Of course not, Kent."

"Goodnight, Lois. Love you."

She'd winked, a sly smile covering her mouth.

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They walk through the back door giggling and whispering like Martha Kent's still the hen over the coop. His mouth finds her throat and his foot closes the door as her arms fold around his neck. She tastes like love and hope; he inhales it. He lifts her to sit on the counter. She laughs. He catches it with his lips and knows tonight is the night. Tonight. Tonight.

He lets go of her lip in his mouth. She catches her breath and pulls on the loops of his jeans.

"What's gotten into Clark Kent tonight?" she teases.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know." Her eyes search his face. "You act like you're…free."

Her face is tilted up and the moonlight shadows half of it. He's the strongest man in the world, and he feels like she could take him down to the ground with one simple rejection. It doesn't stop him.

His heart is in this, her, for good. If the consequences are against him, then so be it, but she should know. She's deserved it more than anyone.

He captures her wrist, letting his fingers whisper against the frail bone and the warm blood. His secret hovers around his lips, waiting to climb into her.

"Lois?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever wondered, where I came from?"

"What do you mean? Like your biological parents?"

"Yeah, and the place I was born."

"Well, I do have a theory." Her voice drops to a whisper and he's watching her mouth. "I think you must have fallen from the sky."

His breath stops.

"Really?"

"No."

She laughs and grabs his face gently. He seems so focused. It excites her.

"I don't know, Clark. I guess I don't care where you're from. I don't care what brought you here. I'm just grateful you are here."

His eyes close and her thumb crosses his lips. The air shifts between them and she finds herself leaning into it. Ready for it.

He feels like his secret is becoming weightless, and it's what he's wanted since he found out about space ships in storm cellars.

"I think you'd be surprised to find out you're not far from the truth," he whispers.

The seriousness in his tone closes her mouth and she frowns into his face. This is a confession – she can read that expression clear as a Smallville summer day.

"Clark?"

A crash interrupts them. They hear it pound against the front porch and he covers her body as the ground evens out.

"Stay here," he orders, already moving away from her.

Outside he sees the destruction of the porch, half of it crushed and falling into pieces, burning a little like history.

"What the hell?" Lois barks.

Of course she hadn't listened to him. She peers over his shoulder, hand on his waist for support. That's when he feels himself falling.

"Clark?"

He can feel her hands on his body but he's doubled over and all he can concentrate on is the pain in every single cell of his living form. He can't catch his breath or move his limbs. It must be kryptonite.

She's screaming at him now.

"Clark!"

"M – Mo – Mo – . Agh!"

He sucks in a breath. His body, taut with oppressing tension, relaxes like a released spring. Instant relief. No longer quivering, he meets Lois's eyes and the question inside of them.

"Clark?"

It's not her voice saying his name. No, Lois's mouth is shut with worry. He turns his head to the disaster area, his heart growing heavier as he spies the woman's dark hair and pale face rising from the debris. In an instant he's standing with Lois at his back again.

"Lana?"

She falls to her knees in the dirt, hands stretching to the jagged floorboard of the porch. His body jerks forward, but his mind stops him from moving closer, already knowing something is not all well with her any longer.

"Help me, Clark," and her tears fall when she does.