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Lana Lang slowly lowered the paintbrush, stepping back to admire her work so far. She grimaced as she felt another kick coming on.
"Another one, honey?" her husbands voice rang out from behind her.
Without turning away from the easel, she replied, "Yeah. Your super baby really knows how to keep me up at night." Lana reached back for her chair and gingerly sat down, rubbing her active stomach.
"I thought I was the one who kept you up all night," her husband commented. Lana could just imagine a playful grin on his face on his boyish face. She finally turned around as he bent down and placed a kiss on the center of her head.
A smile grazed her lips as she though back to the past eight years. So much had changed since then. After Clark had left to travel the world for himself, Lana had fallen into a state of depression. Nothing too serious, just constant heartache for the man that she treasured above all others in her life. Though, her heartache was alleviated once letters began to pour in from Clark. She never replied to any of them—she couldn't. Clark had been always on the move from one country to the next.
After a long, bleak year, Lana had decided to apply to Metropolis University where she got accepted into their Scholars for the Arts program. With all expenses paid, she attended the university for four years, working hard to earn her degree in the arts. After her graduation, she returned to Smallville to care and tend for the widow of Jonathon Kent and the mother of her first love, Martha Kent.
Of all her twenty-seven years of life, Lana would have to say that that year—post college—was probably the hardest, excluding the year after Clark's departure. Not only was she struggling with memories of her childhood plagued by a familiar farm boy, but she was overcome with bills. She managed to pull through it all with a generous payment by a private collector of the arts.
At age twenty-seven, I'm doing pretty well, Lana thought to herself. With a gorgeous husband that she loved with all of her heart and a baby due in three months, life couldn't get any better for her.
"You sure kept me up last night," Lana teased as her husband picked her up and carried her away from the balcony to the bed.
"How about I keep you up all day and night?" Her husband's grin infectious, as he kissed her on her head, her cheeks, and nose.
"Little Isobel Martha Kent might have a problem with that, but I certainly don't," she replied as his lips connected with hers.
When he pulled away, Lana whispered, "I love you, Clark."
"I love you, too, Lana," Clark replied softly, lifting his head up to gaze into her eyes filled with love for him.
Lana played with the dark curls at the back of his head, perfectly content to spend the rest of the day in bed with him.
Unfortunately, the citizens of Metropolis had other plans.
Clark turned toward the open balcony doors, concentrating on something. If she strained, Lana, too, could hear police sirens.
Lana sighed, knowing that he had to go. "Looks like Superman is needed again."
Clark got off the bed quickly. In a blur of red and blue, he was dressed, ready to face the dangers ahead. Lana sat up, rubbing her stomach tenderly.
"You going to be okay?" Clark asked as he kissed her on the lips.
"I'll be fine. Go get them." She gave him a reassuring smile, watching him take off through the balcony doors.
She had let him go before, eight years ago. And now, she had done the same today, though, this time with the firm knowledge that he would, indeed, come back to her.