Okay... I can't quite believe I'm doing this... 
Hi 
I've been away for quite some time as a result of RL issues and whatnot, and hence I'm not sure if anybody remembers this story, but it's been bugging the living life out of me for the past few months, and I've finally gotten it finished, so I just thought I'd bite the bullet and post the final part so I can send it to the archives and let it rest in piece in my "completed fics" folder where it belongs 
I'm not expecting comments on this at all, but if anybody wants to read the previous parts, they can be found here: WoaT TOC
Thanks 
SaraTwo days laterShe rotated her neck, grimacing as she felt the bones crack, and blinked, returning her gaze to the computer screen in front of her. The hum of the newsroom, a symphony of jangling phones and chiming elevator bells faded away as her eyes narrowed and her brain searched for the perfect line, the right combination of nouns, verbs and adjectives that would precisely and exactly carry the meaning she wanted to convey...
//I love you.//
Her head snapped up; the corners of her mouth curled into a beaming smile as their eyes collided and connected. She bit her bottom lip in pleasure as a tumult of thoughts crashed through her mind.
Suddenly they cleared, and she glared at him, doing her best to suppress her smile.
<Quit your moony-eyed daydreaming, Kent! I have a deadline to meet!>
Her only response was a grin and a salute across the newsroom - rolling her eyes in mock displeasure, she turned away.
Amazing how quickly they'd gotten used to being in each other's heads. Amazing how akin to being in her own head it now felt... how comfortable... how somehow reassuring... a constant companion, a reassuring voice in your ear... like having a talking cricket on your shoulder...
//Are you seriously comparing me to a talking cricket?//
She snorted with laughter. <Okay, maybe it wasn't the best simile in the world. I saw Pinocchio once too often as a kid. Cut me a little slack, why don't you?>
She felt, rather than heard him grumbling under his breath. Smiling, she lifted her coffee cup to her lips to take a sip. Seconds later she spluttered, choking, as the icy cold liquid soured her mouth.
<Smooth, Lane, really smooth,> she thought disgustedly as she dabbed at the spots of stray liquid on her shirt collar. <And I can hear you laughing over there, Farmboy,> she added, treating him to another glare.
Grumbling silently under her breath, she glanced quickly around, then focused her eyes on the cup, frowning intently.
And then did it again.
And again.
And stopped.
She grabbed the mug of coffee. Pushed herself back from the desk. Got up. And walked over to him.
"Clark," she said, forgetting herself in her confusion - "conference room."
A beat, and they were there. She set the mug of ice-cold fluid on the table, shut the door and pulled all the blinds closed before grabbing his tie and pulling his surprised face on a level with hers.
"I can't do the vision thingy," she hissed. "Just there. I can't do it. No heat. No steam. Not so much as a bubble!"
"Try again," he instructed her, his voice perturbed, and once again she glared with all her might at the innocuous mug of coffee.
"Zip. Zilch. Nothing," she concluded deflatedly, as it stubbornly refused to warm. She saw the confusion in his eyes, read the panic in his thoughts.
"Well... try something else then. Try to x-ray somebody here," he instructed, becoming more fearful now.
Unable to help herself, she quirked an eyebrow at him suggestively, grinning as his face flushed.
"Lois! Not *me*! And not ... like *that*! Just x-ray ... a bone or something!" he hissed, his cheeks now scarlet. She giggled.
"I'm not even going to try that. I still haven't gotten over seeing Perry in his boxers the first day I got this... vision thingy. I'll just look through the wall."
The colour had reached the tops of his ears, she noted, interested. Obviously there was something under his clothes that he wasn't comfortable with her x-raying... not like the man had anything to be ashamed of...
"Lois, just do it!" he moaned, burying his face in his hands in mortification.
This time she laughed out loud. "Sorry," she said, still giggling, and patted his arm. "Seriously, Clark, sorry. Couldn't help myself."
Still grinning, she swung around and focused intently on the door. For a few seconds, the frame seemed to wobble. Then she blinked, it was suddenly as solid as it had ever been, and she was left wondering if it hadn't been a trick of the light.
Her shoulders slumped. "Nothing," she said defeatedly.
He shook his head, obviously bewildered, then pulled out a chair for her to collapse into and sat beside her at the varnished oak table.
They stared at each other, brown eyes mirroring the thoughts which zipped back and forth through the line that connected them. Through a mutual understanding, the discussion verged back into the metaphysical - it had its disadvantages, she thought, but at the very least it afforded a level of privacy higher than that of Fort Knox.
<What does this mean?>
//I have no idea.// His eyes were dazed. //It's not like I have any past experiences to go by.//
<Could it be wearing off?> She frowned. <Could I be losing it? Could it be going away?>
//Maybe. I don't know. The efficiency of a large lightning bolt and the metal in a revolver to transmit superpowers into human beings is an area as of yet untouched by modern physics.//
He grinned at her - a beaming, cheeky, thousand watt grin with just a hint of nervousness and a slight apologetic air. Another entrant in the hall of Clark Kent's Smiles.
<As always, Kent, the depth of your humour astounds me.> Smiling, she took his hand and kissed the knuckles one by one.
Something struck her and she looked up, letting his hand fall.
<How is it we can still do this, if I'm losing all the rest of them? How is it we can still hear each other?>
He stilled, his eyes searching hers. His mouth tightened.
//I don't know. Maybe we'll lose this too, in time.//
She took his hand again, twined their fingers together.
<I don't want to lose this.>
His thumb stroking hers.
//Me either. Maybe we won't.//
Looking up.
<How?>
His eyes very tender.
//Maybe it's meant to be easy for us anyway. Maybe we could have always done this if we'd tried, and all we needed was to stop lying to each other. Maybe... maybe a lot of things, I don't know. Nobody knows what's around the corner.//
Her shoulders slumped, and her gaze left his.
<That's for damn sure...>
He cupped her cheek with his free hand, stroked the pad of his thumb directly under her eye, forcing her to look at him.
"Whatever happens," he said softly, meaningfully, "we'll face it, like we face everything."
She smiled mistily. Swallowed, nodded. And by mutual consent, they left the conference room, finished their respective stories at lightning speed, gathered their things and strolled out of the office, hand-in-hand.
Together.
~&~
(c) Sara, 2007.
