The Other Side of the Fence
A Smallville Mini –Fic
Spoilers: Mild for Season 5
Summary: Lana writes a letter. Lana is definitely not my favorite character, but she might be if she did something like this.
Acknowledgements: WB and DC own all. I don't' wanna own 'em. I just want to write them. For money. But for feedback works too.
Lana looked down at the expensive lavender stationery that Lex had given her and sighed. Things were never as clear as they should be, and it was hard to write what was going on. Lex is different. She wanted to write that, but couldn't bring her hand to make the words on the paper. Clark lied. She wanted to write that too, even though she felt in her heart of hearts it was a lie. My life is a mess. Nodding, Lana wrote those four words underneath the greeting. It's not enough that I have everything I ever wanted. I don't want more. I want different. I want to be happy. I want to know who I am. Those she couldn't write. She could barely think them.
She sighed, and crumbled the paper in her hands, making a perfect paper snowball with it. Would complaining to a newspaper columnist make her feel any better? No. There was no one she could talk to about any of it. Chloe, would side with Clark, she always did. Lois? Lois had moved up in the world, chief of staff to Martha Kent and was in Wichita most of the time now. Aunt Nell was over the moon with Lana's relationship with Lex, so she was about as useful as a two legged stool.
Fresh paper. Lana smoothed the lavender rectangle, loving the velvety feel of the paper under her hand. Felt like Lex's skin, smooth and cool. She picked up the pen again, and in her precise, feminine handwriting, she looped the words in blue on the page again.
I'm miserable. I've always been what everyone expected, wanted, desired. I have no idea what I want for myself. I need someone to tell me what to do, how to live, what to be. I know what I want, but I don't know how to put it into words that won't hurt someone's feelings. Lately, I've seen pain in the face of someone under any other circumstances I'd never have hurt purposely in the world. I love a man who is not himself. He's not who he was, and I know I've felt that way before but this time it's definitely true. She put the pen down with a heavy thud. The page was blank except for the date and the greeting, again. "You can do this." Lana whispered to herself, picking up the silver pen again. "This can only be a good thing."
I'm hoping you understand what I'm going through because I don't think you are really "you" anymore, either. I need a place to call my own, a life to call my own. The Talon was my mother's, my official bed is in the dorm at MetU, but I've been sleeping with a billionaire instead. If you can call it sleeping, I guess. Nothing is what I thought it would be. And on the surface, I have it all. But nothing in my life is ever what it seems. Lana didn't read the words as she wrote this time, she barely thought about them. They spilled out, her hand moving across the lavender paper instinctually. She stopped. And read. The paper was snatched up and another lavender paper snowball graced the marble hearth. She looked around. Nothing here in Lex's study was hers. There was no item that betokened her place in his life, except the pretty little lap desk she was using, filled with pastel paper and the elegant silver pen Lex had given her. The gift, he said, his mother had told him before her death that every young woman would treasure. And Lana did treasure the rosewood case, the deep violet cushion that padded her legs from it's bulk. But it was portable – it could go where ever she wanted. She slid another sheet of paper out of the desk and smiled. Pink. The letter she had to write was there, there already on the blank paper. Lana could feel it.
I've had a strange year. And I feel lost. I want to make a change, but I don't know where to start. I doubt you'll be able to tell me, because I think I already know.
They say the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, but I should have known better. My grass is greener, but I think I'm up to my neck in the reason why.
I don't need advice. I need a quiet place to think and figure myself out. Because I still don't know who that is, but I think I'm ready to find out. Away from all of this life I've gotten myself into. That scares me.
Very truly yours,'
Lost no more in Smallville."
Lana folded the letter, making the creases sharp and straight. She found an envelope in the little desk and put the letter in, writing the Dear Abby address on the front, the stamp perfectly aligned in the corner of the envelope. Then, Lana took out another sheet of paper, a blue one this time, and began to write, another letter, one that the recipient would find after she'd gone. It was the first thing she was truly sure of in months, and the cold feeling she felt was fear that was mixed with a small measure of justification. And it felt good. The blue ink flowed on the blue paper, and Lana smiled at the effect. It was harmonious, serene and perfect. It was right.