A/N: Okay, so... I know I've been away for a while. I really needed a break. From writing professionally, and for pleasure. I just needed a Christmas without a keyboard.

But, the festive season is over, and the hiatus is almost over. I figured I'd celebrate with a new fic.

This is Part 3 in my yet unnamed Trilogy that begain with 'We Have A Lot To Talk About' and carried on in 'Under Pale Moonlight'.

Because of that, if you're new to my stories, you will have to read those two first before reading this one. It won't make much sense otherwise.

I hope that won't be toom much of a chore - I think those yarns are okay.

Anyway, I hope this lives up to the story those set out. It's still scrambling around in my head, and from the glimpses I've caught, I think we're in for a bumpy ride...

Review are love, people! Roll on Jan 22nd!!!!

"You Can't Go Home Again"

Got on in New Haven

Last car on the train

Put my head on the seat

Wiped the tears from my eyes

I watched my life go by

Like a movie in my brain

Scenes unreeling in a seamless chain

On the window, and its silver screen of rain

And the opening titles scroll

And the score comes in and under

And I'm in the starring role

In a world of love-struck wonder

It's a tale full of promise

About two crazy kids

Falling in love

But in flashback

And then the music

That gorgeous music

And the train

Rattling down this railroad track

~Carly Simon - Film Noir~

~*~

…one…

~*~

It started, as these things do… with a girl.

As a soft, steady Spring rain clattered against the windshield, Clark found himself drifting.

Caught up in a sudden rush of images… fragments of memories, each coming as fast as a drop of rain, and passing just as swiftly.

But they formed a pattern, like the twisted trail of a tapestry – taking him back… back…

To Lana.

It all started with her.

Clark's most vivid memory of Lana happened all of sixteen years ago.

~*~*~*~*~

It was in middle school, and Clark had been sitting on the sidelines of the field, watching Pete and the rest of the kids play touch football.

He was angry, and kept ripping the grass between his fingers because he wasn't allowed to play.

"You have to be responsible Clark, you could hurt somebody," he grumbled, mimicking his father, "Don't see why," he continued, "I'm careful. I've been practising. Yesterday I picked up a cow and I didn't drop her this time. I didn't even squeeze too hard."

He focused on destroying the landscaping, still fuming. He heard a cheer from the field and looked up. Pete had just scored a touchdown. He did a crazy little dance in the end zone and gave Clark a thumbs up. Clark forced a smile and returned the gesture.

"Why aren't you playing, Clark?"

Clark nearly jumped out his skin when he heard the voice. He swung round and saw Lana standing over him. She wore a pretty floral dress and had her hair done up in pigtails. Her eyes were an iridescent green and she offered him a sweet smile.

Clark's jaw flapped uselessly for a while as he struggled for a response. Eventually he clamped his mouth shut and just stared at her, obviously uncomfortable. She giggled and sat down beside him.

This only served to make Clark even more uncomfortable, and he started fidgeting. Twisting the blades of grass, braiding them together in an effort to keep his eyes away from Lana.

She pretended not to notice and turned her attention to the kids playing the game. Clark's heart beat a crazy rhythm against his ribs and his thoughts were a confused whirl.

He wasn't concentrating and started weaving the grass at a speed that, if Lana had noticed, would have sent her screaming back home.

But she didn't notice, and when Clark finally looked down at what he'd done, he was shocked to find he'd strung a summer green crown in a complex weave.

He stared at it. Lana looked down, and gave a little gasp as she spotted his handiwork.

"Oh, Clark! That's beautiful!"

He turned and stared dumbly at her, still shocked at his actions. Then a thought pinged in his head and he held it out to her.

"For you," he mumbled.

Her lustrous eyes grew even larger as she reached out a hand and took it hesitantly. She held it flat on her palm and gaped at it, before lifting it slowly and placing it over her raven tresses.

Clark grinned. "Hold on," he said.

He got up and jogged over to the fence. At its base he bent down, and plucked a tiny yellow flower from the ground, before returning to Lana's side. He reached up, and placed the flower in her hair, just inside the circumference of the grass crown.

"There," he smiled again, "Perfect."

"Thank you Clark," she answered his smile with one of her own and Clark felt beads of sweat form on his brow.

Nervously, he wrung his hands together, returning his gaze to the ground in front of him.

"Welcome, Lana," he stammered.

She giggled again and stood up.

"I'm going to keep this forever," she told him.

Then, with a parting smile, she hurried off to join her girlfriends, who immediately began examining Clark's crude crown.

Clark forced his attention back to the game, where Pete broke through the line and scored another touchdown. This time, Clark cheered his friend with gusto, his grin so wide it could have snapped his face in two.

He'd talked to Lana.

Six whole words and he didn't mess them up.

What a great day!

~*~*~*~*~

The tiniest hint of a smile twitched at the corner of Clark's mouth as the memory flooded him. He shook his head.

So long ago.

So much had changed.

He glanced over at the woman sitting beside him in the car, her head tilted back, a contented smile on her face as she watched the rain paint the world anew.

How had he got from that day… to this?

He'd believed he would love Lana forever.

Even when it started falling apart. When all that passed between them was bitterness, and pain and the endless cycle of new regrets, he'd continued to believe…

But now…?

"What are you thinking about?" asked Lois.

Clark glanced at her again. She was frowning at him. Lois had an uncanny knack of knowing when Clark was slipping into what she called his 'loft-moods', so named because he would retreat to his loft in the barn to brood when he was upset. She always called him on it. As she was doing now.

"Just… thinking," Clark shrugged.

"Good thoughts or bad?"

"A bit of both."

"I see."

Lois turned away again, her focus transferring to the passing landscape outside.

"That's it?" Clark was surprised, "No interrogation? No demand that I snap out of it?"

"Clark, I'm tired," she said, "And stuffed. I had too many corn-dogs at the concert."

"I would have thought you'd have danced their effects away," Clark smirked.

"You're the one who decided to take me to a Whitesnake concert," she told him, "So you have no right to criticise my dance moves."

"I wasn't criticising them," said Clark, "In fact… there were one or two that I spotted that I definitely want replayed later."

Lois laughed, and lightly punched his arm. It was an affectionate gesture that she hadn't dropped, even after discovering that he was invulnerable and she could, in fact, break her hand if she punched too hard.

Clark didn't know why, but he was grateful for that.

"I was just thinking that things don't always work out the way we expect them to," Clark admitted, "If you had told me ten years ago that I'd end up here…" he just shook his head, and chuckled.

"And where exactly are you, Clark Kent?" asked Lois, uncharacteristically serious.

"Right where I want to be," he said.

Lois smiled. Reaching over, she gently took his hand, and squeezed it.

That's when the engine cut out.

~*~*~*~*~

"Can you fix it?"

Lois had salvaged one of Clark's old jackets from the cab of the truck, and was holding it over her head like a makeshift tent, trying to block out the rain. Clark had the hood open and was peering intently at the mysterious inner workings of the truck.

"Er… I think so," he said.

"You think so?" Lois pulled a face, "That doesn't sound very reassuring, Clark!"

Clark grinned and stepped back, slamming the hood in place.

"I'll need some tools," he explained, "And they're back at the house."

"So? Go get them," said Lois.

"Nah… Clark shook his head, "Let's just leave it here. We can come back for it in the morning. It's only a couple of miles back to the farm."

"Um… Okay."

"Come on," Clark held out his hand, "Let's walk."

"Walk?!" Lois gave him a look, like he'd just suggested they eat slugs, "Why can't we just… whoosh?!" She made a take-off gesture with her hand.

"Lois, what would you have done if you didn't have a boyfriend who could… whoosh?"

"Break up with him."

"I'm serious."

"So am I! It's storming out here!"

"No, it's not!" Clark spread his arms and turned his face up to catch the rain in his mouth, "It's fine Kansas Spring weather!"

"Have you lost your mind?"

"Come on, Lo! Live a little!"

"I do live!" she protested, "It's the catching my death of cold bit that I'm worried about! And don't call me Lo!"

Clark just laughed, reached up, and yanked the jacket away.

"Hey!"

Lois made a desperate grab for the jacket but Clark held it easily out of her reach. She jumped up and down for a bit, swiping at it, but it was obvious that Clark wasn't going to let her get hold of it again. So she settled for glaring at him – an effect that was ruined by her need to constantly wipe the rain water off her face. Clark found it adorable.

He tossed the jacket back in the truck, locked it, and started walking. After a few seconds, he heard Lois hurrying to catch up with him. Clark held out his right arm, and she snuggled into the crook, against his chest. He let his hand rest on her shoulder as she fell into step.

"I hate you," she murmured.

"No, you don't."

"Do!"

"Don't!"

They just walked for a while. The rain wasn't as heavy as Lois made out. It had eased to a gentle patter that sounded like a sibilant whisper as it hit the asphalt. Clark kept his left hand clutched firmly in his pocket as he watched the raindrops bounce off the surface of the road. He became mesmerised by the way they sparkled when they fell into the pool of illumination beneath the streetlights.

It seemed to Clark that each drop represented a choice in a man's life… a different possibility. They came fast, and frequently, and every now and then, if you're really lucky, you can reach out and catch one.

He stopped walking.

Lois carried on for a few steps, until she realised she wasn't sheltered by Clark's bulk anymore. She turned around.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," said Clark, with a small smile, "Absolutely nothing."

"Uh huh…" Lois cocked her head sideways, squinting at him through the rain, "Is that why you're just standing there with that stupid grin on your face?"

"Would you do something for me?"

"What?"

"Dance with me?"

Lois threw her arms up in exasperation.

"That's it!" she declared, "You have lost your mind! Clark, I'm tired, and I'm wet, and I'm cranky, and I don't want to…"

"Lois, please…" he cut in, "Just dance with me."

Lois stared at him. Clark wasn't smiling now. Instead he looked… apprehensive. Even a little frightened. It terrified her that the most powerful man on earth could still be frightened. Stepping close, she wound her arms around his neck. She felt the reassuring touch of his big, strong hands settling on her waist. She leaned her head against his chest, right by his heart, and felt the soft whisper of his kiss on her hair. They swayed to the sound of the falling rain.

"This wasn't supposed to happen, you know?" said Clark, pulling her even closer, "It wasn't supposed to work out like this."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Everything that's happened in my life… I convinced myself that I would always be alone. That who I am meant I would have to be alone. That there wouldn't be someone out there who understood… who got it. Who could…"

"Love you for you?"

She looked up at him and smiled. That smile had become the centre of Clark's whole world and he cherished it. Smiling back, he couldn't help picturing the insanity of this entire scene. On a deserted road in the Kansas night, dancing with the woman he loved in the rain.

Just insane enough to be perfect.

"Do something else for me?" he said.

"What?" asked Lois."

"Marry me?"

They stopped dancing.

Lois' arms fell to her sides like they'd just been filled with lead.

The rain went away – the world went away.

She stared at Clark.

At his honest, open face.

At his eyes… filled with compassion, and understanding, and a spark of love for her, that had spread into a flame.

She watched him drop to one knee.

She watched him reach into his left pocket.

Watched him pull out a ring box.

The diamond glinted – like fire trapped in ice.

The rain went away – the world went away.

And she said yes.

~*~*~*~*~

Clark had just opened the kitchen door when he heard it.

Lois was chattering a mile a minute, and was already on autopilot, dripping around the kitchen as she collected mugs, switched on the kettle, and dug the coffee out of the cupboard. All the while she kept up a running monologue about everything and nothing.

"Lucy's going to hate it, of course, but that's to be expected. I'm going to have to have two bridesmaids. There's no way I can choose between Chloe and Lucy. Of course, that leaves me with the problem of the dresses, because their hair colour and complexions are just so different. It's going to be a nightmare. And so is the honeymoon. You know we can't take too much time off. In our business, if you're missing for a week, you might as well…"

"Uh, Lo…" Clark cut her off, "Could you excuse me for a second?"

"Sure," said Lois, "Something wrong?"

"I just need to check on something in the barn. Why don't you start a fire so long?"

"Okay,' said Lois, "Although, it is your job to warm me up."

"I'll be right back," said Clark.

"You'd better be," said Lois, "You have no idea what kind of payback you get the night you propose to a girl."

Clark flashed her a grin and ran out into the yard. He crossed to the barn and went inside.

Clark was sure he wasn't mistaken. He'd definitely heard someone moving around in here.

As quietly as possible, he mounted the steps to the loft and crept up, until he could see into the cleared space at the top.

There… a figure silhouetted against the faint light coming through the window…

It turned around.

Clark choked.

It was – without a doubt – the absolute last person he'd ever expected to see again.

"Hello, Clark."