Here it goes. Thank you so much for the warm welcome back. Writing is a great escape from my 60 hour a week job (yes, teaching is eating my life). I want to give a bit of a shout out to some people who have given me great reviews: Valia-Elf, htbthomas, Astasia, Saavikam77, The Kiss of Death, JJ, AgiVega, and Angel452. You guys rock, and I wouldn't be writing this without you!!! And everyone else who's taking the time to read this, I hope you enjoy the story. Per request, more love in this chapter.

As always, I do not own these characters, just take inspiration from them.

An Understanding: Chapter 7

There were many benefits to growing up on the farm for Clark Kent. He was alone a great deal, no doubt, but considering his rather unique growing pains, that was a blessing. But it wasn't the space, or the crops, or the time and dirt on your hands. It was the clichés. As a writer these phrases were an eyesore and a cheat of talent. But what could Clark really say. People know clichés because they are repeated so much, and they are repeated because they're true. So what is a farm boy left to do when he needs to describe the atmosphere that fostered his existence?

He decided that he liked the animals the best. They were his friends and confidants, and Clark experienced all aspects of life and death, his parents not feeling the need to shelter their child from all parts of life. He loved the fact that a cow or a dog could sniff him or his parents and regard them as the same.

But they weren't, of course. One spring, Clark's dog had puppies for the first time. He was so excited that he stayed up all night through the labor in the barn with his mother. By morning the old girl had produced a great set of yipping balls of fur, their tiny eyes clamped shut in denial of the real world. Suddenly, the mother began to push again, her back legs straining. Mrs. Kent knew what this meant, and tried to send her son away, but Clark wouldn't move. The puppy was born in a dark sack of fluid, not writhing like the others had. Mrs. Kent broke the sack with a knife and cleaned the puppy carefully, but it was too late. She wrapped the small thing tenderly, turning away from her son, but he wouldn't let her leave, begging to see the puppy.

"I'm sorry Clark," she said with sadness, "the puppy is gone."

"No," Clark said, cradling the puppy with all ease in his hands. He unwrapped the towel and looked down at the prone body, its head off to an awkward angle. Carefully he began to rub the small thing's chest; just as he had seen his parents do over and over with other animals in the past. He rubbed and rubbed, hoping that by he could hit some kind of invisible switch and the puppy could come alive and struggle back against death between his fingers.

Mrs. Kent became concerned and placed a hand of his back. "Clark, honey, there's nothing you can do." Clark shook the tears on his face into zigzags. "Look, your dog is fine and has eight beautiful puppies that you can raise and love. But this one… there's nothing you can do."

"No," he said again, simple.

"Honey…"

"No." He was becoming fervent now, beyond intent. "No, I can do this mom. I…" his speech was broken by the sound of a small crack. Clark looked down with ragged breath. His finger was still on the puppy's chest, but now a little more depressed, and no one has to tell him that he'd broken the baby's sternum. Quietly, Mrs. Kent took the small bundle from her son.

Clark's arms dropped to his sides. "She's still warm."

"I know."

"It's not fair."

Mrs. Kent nodded as she helped her son off the straw covered floor of their barn. "No, I guess it's not. But Clark, you need to know that there's nothing you could have done about it." They began to walk toward the house.

Clark looked at the bundle cradled in his mother's arms with pain. "I don't know…"

His mother stopped suddenly in the dawn light and crouched to the eyelevel of her son. "This is important Clark. You need to understand that this isn't your fault. There are many things that in life that we can take care of, that we should take care of. But there are other things, things beyond our control, things we can't fix." She raised her son's face so his eyes couldn't stare at the buttons of her shirt. "You can't live your life feeling responsible for the world. The world is cruel and wonderful, but it's responsible for itself. All you can do is help." Clark stared at his mother for a long moment, his eyes full of hope and fear. His mother allowed her thumb to trace his cheek bone. "How did I ever get so lucky to have the chance to love you?" They smiled at one another. "Let's go inside. I'm sure your pa has cooked us up a great breakfast, and after we'll go and burry this small thing." He grabbed her hand and they walked inside.

Clark remembered that day as he watched the woman he loved go across the way to get them some hot pretzels and hot dogs. The young, pimpled teenager had obviously not gotten their order right the first time, because Clark could see Lois wag her finger at him and then place both arms crossed around her waist, tapping both feet on and off impatiently as he went back into the stand. He laughed. Missed orders were about the only thing he wanted to deal with today, a problem to be fixed. The rest of the world could wait. Humanity was surprisingly good at taking care of itself. In fact, if Lois was right, the world didn't need him to function. And indeed, when he had returned after five years, the earth was still there. But it was still difficult to ignore the cries that occasionally came to his ears.

"Clark, could you give me a hand?" This request was a little closer by, and he easily trotted over and took the sodas away from Lois' over burdened arms.

Lois gave him a cheesy smile. "My hero." They sat down at a group of tables near where a bunch of food carts had parked and dug in. Clark took a big bite of his hot dog and looked across the table at his perfect woman, who was having trouble fitting her hotdog with everything on it into her mouth.

"How can you even taste the hot dog with all that stuff on it?"

"Look Mr. I-only-like-mustard-and-ketchup, I can't help it if you are boring with food."

"Careful, if you don't stop making fun of me, I'll have to show you just how unboring I can be." He waggled his eyebrows.

"Hmmm," Lois responded, "that's a very interesting offer considering we're both eating hot dogs right now." Clark's eyes bulged a bit as Lois reached across the table, "Here, you've got some mustard on your chin." She swiped the yellow glob off with ease, but Clark grabbed her hand before she could sit down. With deliberate slowness he stuck her finger into his mouth and sucked off the offending condiment, swirling his tongue along the tip. Now it was Lois' turn to be surprised.

Clark released the digit with a pop and smiled. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Undaunted by Clark's aggressiveness,eHe decided that Lois leaned foreword and whispered, "I want you to know, if there was a table cloth here right now, my foot would already be past your knee. Remember that." With that, she sat back down and began to tear her pretzel apart.

Clark puffed out some air but grinned, "God, I love you."

"I know. So, what's next?"

Clark popped the last bit of his hotdog into his mouth and again looked at the schedule of events for the day. "Well, we have some time before the cow judging at 2, so why don't we go and see some of the other competitions. Rabbits, squash, pies, stuff like that."

"Pies! That means dessert."

"Ugg, how can you even think about more food?"

"It's easy. First I picture a pie then I picture my self, then…"

"Stop, stop, please, for the sake of my sanity."

They gathered up their food and threw it away, again linking hands. Clark looked down at Lois and smiled. "It's good to see you like this you know."

"Like what?"

"Relaxed, happy. It's nice to see you like this. It wasn't that long ago that I found you crying on your back porch blow-drying coupons."

Lois nodded in agreement, "That was pretty bad."

"You scared me that night."

"I scared myself."

"It's my fault, I know."

Lois paused before she answered, walking straight, eyes foreword. Her grip tightened on Clark's hand. "Yes. And no. Remember last night when we talked about choices? You may have chosen to leave, but I chose to stay with Richard and keep Jason." Clark looked down at Lois concerned. "Yes, I thought about ending the pregnancy. Can you blame me? But in the end I didn't, and I'd rather not talk about that."

Clark nodded. "Look, things still aren't right, but they're getting there because you're here, alright?"

They smiled at each other. "So that's what was bothering you earlier?" Clark asked.

"Not exactly."

"Then what…"

But whatever concern that Clark had died on his lips as Lois let out a little shriek. "Oh my God! That is the cutest thing I've ever seen ever." Lois ran over to a stall and stared at a small lamb tucked near its mother. Seeing the young woman it got up on shaky legs and walked over to her outstretched hand, licking it. Clark put a hand on Lois' back. "Look, it likes me."

"Yeah, I think she does."

"Hello little one," Lois cooed, stoking the lamb's head, "Oh my son would just love you to death. At least until he broke out into hives."

"Jason does seem to like animals."

Lois climbed back off the stall gate and hooked arms with Clark so they could continue walking down the row. "Animal planet saved my job. I could plunk Jason down in front of the TV and write."

"What was his first word?"

"Car." Clark looked surprised, but Lois just shrugged, "Yeah, I don't get it either."

They walked for a while stopping occasionally to look at animals and food. Once Lois got Clark to pose with a pie next to his face.

"This isn't going into submission for the paper, is it?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

They began to walk away, and Lois quickly pinched Clark's butt. "Oh, I'll think of something."

Out of no where Clark grabbed Lois' hand and made a break for a surprisingly dense outcropping of trees. She giggled with delight and tripped after him past branches and lush green leaves. Clark stopped abruptly and pressed Lois against a tree. Instantly their lips were on each others, nosed knocking against each other in a fight for dominance. Clark pulled away slightly and lightly bit and pulled on Lois' lip. She growled and ran a hand against the back of his head pulling his mouth back to hers with insistence. Soon their tongues were dueling. Lois could barely stand upright between the taste of Clark's lips and the sweet smell of his skin. Luckily Clark had now pressed her flush against the tree, one hand on her hip and another in her hair, both constantly pressing, searching.

Lois first took the time to explore his back and trace his spine. But this wasn't nearly close enough. Searching she walked her finger around to the front of his shirt, tugging slightly. His t-shirt came away easily, and she walked her hand up until her hands rested flat on warm and toned his stomach. Clark's breath stuck in his throat, and he had to break his kiss and rest his forehead on Lois'. She didn't move his hands, but gave a small smile.

"Hi."

Clark smiled, "Hi."

For a moment all they could do was breath heavily like teenagers necking in the back of a car. It's debatable who started the kiss again, but the need each felt was undeniable. Lois let her hands ever so slowly go higher, and Clark let his own digits explore the tender skin on her back, dueling who could push the other to break the moment in surprise. But just as Clark's finger tips brushed Lois' lacey bra strap, the PA announcer's voice reached their ears saying the cow competition would be starting soon. Reluctantly they broke apart.

"Too be continued?"

Lois grinned, "You better believe it!" They straightened themselves out and began to walk toward to fair again, and the rest of the afternoon.

To Be Continued…