Clark's POV

I'm ashamed of myself. I truly am.

Scribe came and sat with me today at lunch, shooing away the others. I'll admit to being just a tiny bit smug. After all, with her new fame, private time with her is something of a social coupe.

Not that this sort of thing matters to me.

But she laid such a guilt trip on me, and I'm pretty sure that she didn't actually mean to. Not as much as she accomplished, anyway. I did a lot of it myself. I'm good at that.

Anyway, she asked how the search for a way to send her home was progressing. Well, I lost any appetite I might have had for my tuna melt right then and there. Because there was no search for a way to send her home. Not officially, anyway. Well, not unofficially, either, at least on my part.

Truth was, it hadn't occurred to me. Not for a long time, anyway. The first couple of days I had wracked my brain. I'm not stupid, I'm sure I exhausted any good possibilities that I knew of. I had a vague notion that Mixedpickles *why was I thinking of him by that name? Oh, yeah, that was Scribe's name for him* would show up eventually, and something would be worked out.

Looking at the wistful expression on her face, I began to realize that I had been behaving cavalierly. And, perhaps, selfishly.

Okay, no perhaps about it. The fact of the matter is...

I really don't want her to go. I like her. A lot. And it isn't just the fact that she climbed on top of me wearing nothing but a sheet and drove me out of my mind. Or the fact that I'd really, really like a repeat performance (or maybe more). I'll admit that's a big part. of it, but not all of it.

She's very sweet to the people she cares about. She's brave, although I think she'd snicker at that. Anyone who can come through all the manure she has and not just end up gibbering and drooling in the corner is braver and stronger than most people I know.

I guess most importantly, she knows who I am. Not just the secret identity. She seems to have grasped the whole Clark Kent/Kal El/Superman thing, and isn't confused, impressed, or put off. I mentioned it once, and she said that if she could accept the Holy Trinity on faith, she supposed she could handle me. She's the only person I've ever known who can see me and deal with me on all levels. It's such a relief that, when I'm with her, I don't have to worry about being one or the other. I can just...be. So, I really wish she'd just settle down and quit worrying about it.

But there she sat, with that almost hurt look on her face, and she said, "Do you know what I sang at Lavender's Green last night, Clark? 'Five Hundred Miles Away From Home', 'Take Me Home, Country Roads', 'You're My Home', 'I Wish I Was Goin' Home', 'Sloop John B...' Okay, I have to explain that one. Chorus goes, 'Let me go home. Why dontcha let me go home? This is the worst trip I've ever been on.' Do you sense a connecting theme here?"

I cleared my throat. "I'm keeping my feelers out in the scientific community." I looked at the other staffers seated nearby. "Superman has gone over all obvious possibilities."

She frowned. "So that's it? You two are going to just let it ride?" She took a breath, and turned melting eyes on me. I started to melt a little myself. "After all we've meant to each other?"

"Scribe... I... we... you..." I paused. "Are you trying to make me feel guilty?"

"Is it working?"

I shook my head, but said, "Yes, it is. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

"No. Anyway, I shouldn't have to make you feel guilty. Should I?"

And she was right. As Superman, it's my job to set things like this right. As Clark, well, she generously gave me one of the most gratifying experiences of my life. If we aren't lovers, I'd say we're close. And as Kal El, I feel indebted by our shared sorrows. We've both lost our homes, our people, our families. The difference is, there is a small chance that she could get hers back. Shouldn't I do all I can to insure that? I should. I will.

*sigh*

But I'll be awful sad to see her go.