Disclaimer: I own nothing. Whitney and Lana belong to Millar, Gough, and DC Comics. I'm just borrowing for a bit. The concept of Highlander belongs to Gregory Widen and Rysher Entertainment.

Written for The Smallville Roast.

The above graphic was created by M. Edison.

Standing in the doorway of the Talon, I wasn’t quite sure what to do. I had been away for so long and had changed so much. What if she didn’t recognize me? Sure, the hair was still blonde and the eyes were still blue, but I was a different Whitney from the one who had left Smallville at eighteen.

I took a deep breath and stepped into the busy coffee house. Zigzagging through the mesh of customers, I kept my eyes completely on her. Her smile still lit up the room as she walked from customer to customer, her dark hair swaying behind her. Finally, I reached her and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around, and the tray she was carrying crashed to the floor. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“Whitney?” she asked breathlessly.

I smiled as a feeling of relief passed over me. “Lana.”

Her green eyes widened. “They said you were dead; they couldn’t find your body.” It all came out in a rush.

“It turns out I’m a hard man to kill,” I joked. It was the truth. After waking up from the blast that came from a land mine, I had learned a lot about myself. I was even told never to go back to Smallville, but I couldn’t resist. I had to see Lana one last time.

Her look of relief was quickly interrupted by one of suspicion. “Are you sure it’s you?”

“I’m positive. Why?”

She glanced around at the customers, and then moved closer to me. “Someone posed as you a while back and had me convinced it was you.” Her eyes met mine. “Can you prove it?”

I grinned mischievously. “Remember that night by Crater Lake? Just you, me, and the stars?”

Lana’s eyes widened again, and her beautiful smile returned. “It is you.” She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I closed my eyes, breathing in her scent.

I wanted to tell her everything, let her into my new life, but I knew that I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk her getting involved. I knew I was eventually going to have to leave her for good. For now, though, I just held her and enjoyed the moment.


© 2003 Crimson Idealist