Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I can’t believe we are going camping in the middle of winter.” Jimmy huffed. “How did I let you convince me to go camping in the middle of winter? It’s 13 degrees out here!”

“Because you were curious?” Lois blew on her hands as she set another pile of logs down for Clark to split later. “And besides, this is way better than how I did it with—“ Lois glanced at Clark, who was busy figuring out how to anchor the tent when the ground was frozen solid and covered in 15 inches of snow. “When I was growing up.”

It hadn’t been that, exactly. It had been the way Lois looked so lost still sometimes, how she remembered her father with a sense of fractured betrayal, unable to decide if he was still a threat to Clark and unable to reckon with the damage he had caused, the unspeakable thing that made Clark yell more nights than not. Made him stiff, his skin steely and unyielding, when they relaxed around him, because he was too afraid of falling asleep and loosing control to ever really relax himself. It was a messy, horrible ball of guilt by proxy— she had done nothing wrong, but still somehow felt responsible; always one half step behind her father with an apology on her lips because it’s been that way since she was a child.

But she was in therapy and they were working on it. They were always working on it. But there was a difference in knowing, technically, and knowing deep within. A difference between saying someone could be good sometimes, and could have been trying their best and could have caused near irreparable harm. That both the love and the betrayal were true and it was okay. 

But it had been almost two months, and they had, for the most part, found their footing. Now it was just a matter of hiking back up to where they’d fallen from.  

So when Lois had spoken with fondness about winter camping with her dad, Jimmy and Clark had simply looked at each other and silently decided they would go. Simply because it might make her happy, and maybe bring her a little more peace. 

And besides, Jimmy might have gotten a little bit excited about all the fancy camping gear he could now afford for the three of them and they needed to test it all somehow. 

Just maybe not in an ‘arctic blast’. 

But they had already taken the time off, and, despite Perry’s offer (more of a concerned suggestion) to push said time off (and therefore the camping trip) back a week or a few months to when it was a little warmer, and the three of them had decided to just go for it anyway, because Lois was excited and Clark was invulnerable and Jimmy thought he was well-prepared. They’d picked a place close enough for Clark to still hear any calls for help (though he had agreed to take a small step back and only interfere in things only he could do) and had spent the day hiking in with all their stuff. 

In the cold. And the above-the-knee deep snow. 

And yeah, they had Clark to break the trail, but there was still a level of difficulty Jimmy hadn’t expected. By the time they actually reached the campsite he was more than ready to settle in for the night. 

Lois, as unstoppable as always, cut open the bale of straw Clark had carried all the way from Kansas before they set out and spread the flakes out over the tent spot as Clark used his heat vision with one squinted eye to melt just enough frost he could stick the tent pin where it should go. His first attempt had been to stab the pin into the ice, but between the rock solid ground and Clark’s steely strength it had resulted in a hilariously crumpled tent pin. Jimmy had been barely able to stop laughing about it and the confused puppy look on Clark’s face long enough to take a picture of him with.

“How did you set up when you camped like this, Lois?” Clark asked gently, one hand on the tent and the other effortlessly holding their bags up and away from the snow. Jimmy grabbed his and started to look for the puffer coat tent he’d bought for insulation. 

“Well, we didn’t have anything fancy, just a little 3 person tent and a bale of hay—straw.” She corrected. “I know the difference, Clark, I swear. And our zero degree bags. Some wool blankets.” She shrugged, and sighed. We just kind of hung out, some hiking, card games, the usual stuff.” 

Jimmy, having learned ‘the usual stuff’ included learning to set broken bones, was just about to carefully ask what exactly she meant by that, but Clark stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. Jimmy looked up and stepped closer— her shoulders were slumped, and he couldn’t see her face, but…

“I’m fine. Nostalgia is a good thing, remember?” She waved them both off, and they obediently ignored the way she scrubbed a little at her eyes. 

Bits of straw ended up everywhere after all. And Lois was still dealing with a reckoning of her own, something she’d tell them when she was ready, when she found some peace. 

The outer tent was set up with practiced ease, it was the same tent Jimmy had since freshman year and between Lois’ experience growing up and Clark and Jimmy’s 2-4 camping trips a year (or more, the summer after graduation had been a celebration after all) they had it set up in minutes. 

The inner tent, however, was brand new. It seemed simple, but was made sort of like a puffer coat. The challenge would either be in putting it together inside the big tent (but the poles didn’t fit in a way they could maneuver well), or putting it together outside the big tent and somehow getting it inside (it was bigger than the door when fully set up). The trio glanced at each other skeptically for just a moment, before Jimmy and Clark turned to Lois. 

“I know just as much as you do!” She sputtered, but then frowned sharply. “Maybe we stick the poles in out here but wait to fasten them until we get it inside?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Clark nodded cheerily. 

“What was your plan?” Lois asked. 

“I was going to cut the tent open along the bottom and weld it back together again.” Clark admitted with a shrug. 

Lois blinked at him for a long, long moment. “That’s… direct.”

“Well, Lois, remember when I listed the things I admired about you and mentioned you were smart twice?” Clark grinned at her with a sheepish half-laugh.

“Yeah, but you’re smart too!” Lois huffed in fond exasperation. 

Jimmy laughed. He’d long since given up on bridging the disconnect between how clever Clark could be, and how often he simply took the most direct approach possible in a way no one would ever have thought of because no one was capable of doing what he did. If he dropped his pen under a desk he was more likely to simply pick the entire desk up with one hand and grab the pen than crawl under to get it, with almost no thought to what level of lifting stuff might be considered ‘normal’.

Jimmy would know. Jimmy had the exasperation of covering for him on multiple occasions. Thank the stars he’d seen Pa Kent do the same sort of thing to various smaller bits of furniture and equipment, and could honestly tell bystanders that yes, the Kent family runs a little different, but hey they’re just as friendly as they are buff. Just routine farm boy strength. No, he doesn’t look like Superman with glasses, he needs those glasses, one time he forgot them and tried to use a stapler for a computer mouse. (Actually Clark had just been very distracted by Lois as she sorted out a case in fifteen minutes, but he had forgotten his glasses that day.)

Thankfully Clark was a little more careful now.

They followed Lois’ directions, and soon had the little inside tent tucked neatly into the outside tent, which left them with enough room to put their shoes and snowy outer clothes in between the doors; safe from excess snow, but not where they’d melt everywhere and make their sleeping gear and fresh clothes wet. 

In tandem the three of them started to set up their sleeping areas, and it would be fine, if they were all settled in. But.

“Clark, I love you, but this is the fifth time I’ve bumped into you in two minutes.” Lois said, as she rolled between his arms and gave him a quick kiss, “How about you set up the fire and Jimmy and I get the beds ready?”

Clark nodded, and leaned down to kiss her before he shuffled out of the tent. 

Jimmy, now that he didn’t have to duck around Clark’s shoulders, rolled out one of the thick wool pads, “It’s actually kinda warm in here, I mean, its not toasty, but it’s not as cold as it is out there.”

“Mhm.” Lois rolled Clark’s pad out between her’s and Jimmy’s. He wouldn’t stay there, too afraid of lashing out to sleep so near, but Lois, like Jimmy, wasn’t giving up on him. “Oh, remember to put tomorrow’s clothes in your bag with you.”

“Why?”

“It’s 13 degrees outside, Jimmy.” 

Clark liked chopping wood. It was a little like stacking hay, or bringing in the harvest; focused but familiar. Rhythmic, like Ma’s knitting, or the presses in the lower room of the Planet, the keys on Jimmy’s keyboard clicking late at night, or Mr. Gurky’s spinning wheel as he told old stories to drown out late summer storms. There was just something safe about it. A heartbeat, warm and friendly and somehow reassuring in a way ticking clocks were not. He measured a safe distance for the fire and started it quietly. It was already almost 4, the darkness just beginning to settle in, still a few hours off, but the sun had sunk below the tree line a long time ago. 

Clark set the tripod up and dumped the bag of frozen soup cubes into their little cauldron and settled into a camp chair next to it to sort out the cookery; dark green for Lois, dusty pink for Clark, and dark blue for Jimmy. And then black for all the things set in or around the fire, since they looked nicer longer. 

A bold young squirrel crept up to him, their tail flicking curiously. Clark offered it a peanut from a baggy of bird food in his pocket, and pet it gently as it climbed right into his lap. Then there were the birds, chickadees at first, and juncos and a cardinal who grabbed seeds just to fed them directly to his mate, Clark was just about to tell him he needed to eat too, but was distracted by the clicking of a camera. 

Jimmy grinned brightly from behind the lens. 

“I started dinner.” Clark said. 

“I see that.”

“I made some friends?” Clark gently pet the squirrel, who had curled up on his leg.

“I see that too.” Jimmy laughed quietly. “We got the beds set up. Is there anything we can help you with out here?”

Clark gestured to the chairs around him, “Help me feed the birds?”

“You got it buddy.”

The birds and squirrel ran off as Lois and Jimmy settled into their chairs, but stayed close, watched as they pulled out some birdseed and carefully held it in their hand, careful to avoid dropping any and attracting some of the less friendly critters. And they waited. 

Clark was the first to be swarmed, and Lois seemed just about to give up when the cardinal fluttered over to her and started eating from her palm ravenously. Jimmy ended up with a blue jay and one stray robin who had either gotten lost or decided to brave the cold this year. And the little squirrel climbed back on Clark, took a peanut, and resumed their little nap. 

And it was peaceful. 

By the time the soup was boiling the birds, and even the squirrel, had enjoyed their fill and moved on to rest elsewhere. Clark had started some rolls halfway through in little pie makers and they dipped them in their soup while some cinnamon rolls baked and water boiled for tea. 

“Clark, hold still.” Lois swiped a grain of rice from his chin and licked it off her finger. Clark just gave her a gooey sort of look, his heart too swollen with affection too put into words. 

And it wasn’t the rice. 

It was just this. Just the quiet, and the snow just starting to fall ever so gently in big flakes around them, the way the fire cracked softly as embers shifted and fell, the slow, but steady acceptance the wildlife had of his friends. The warmth of them all together. 

“I love you.” He looked between Lois and Jimmy, “I love you both.”

“We love you too, big guy.” Jimmy threw his arm around Clark’s shoulder. 

Clark laid in the dark for a long time, exhausted, but he had to force himself to stay awake. He couldn’t control his movements when he slept, and his friends couldn’t get to safety in time if they were asleep, but he couldn’t leave when they were awake. So he squinted at the ceiling of the tent, and through it to the stars above, named the constellations as he waited for Jimmy and Lois to fall too deeply asleep to notice him sneaking out. 

He knew it hurt them. He knew they just wanted be close, and he wanted to be close to them, but there were just some risks he was wasn’t willing to take. 

So, like every night since the nightmares started, he listened to their heartbeats, listened hard for the movements of their eyes that would signal to him they would probably not wake up and try to reassure him. Let them lay pressed close to his sides while he was awake enough to enjoy it. But it seemed to take them forever to relax and settle in, the time between dozing off and truly sleeping took much longer than he expected it to, even counting their new surroundings. They were alert, and had been for a while, in a way that was starting to worry him. But, after Clark had almost dozed off and woken up with his heart racing too many times to count, they finally fell into their REM cycles. 

He eased his arm from under Lois, and his leg from under Jimmy’s feet and slowly, carefully let his body float, still tucked into his sleeping bag. He reached for the mattress pad and eased it off the floor. Carefully. Gently eased his pillow into the empty space, for his friends to lean into so maybe they wouldn’t sense his absence until morning.  He spotted Jimmy’s spaceship pillow abandoned on the other side of the tent and ever so quietly set it closer to Jimmy, in the center. Jimmy liked to snuggle into soft things, and woke up easily when whatever he was holding was disturbed. Lois on the other hand, usually slept like a rock regardless, but tended to lock him (and on some unfortunate occasions, Jimmy) into a death-grip so tight it would bruise a normal human. But her arms were tucked safely inside her sleeping bag for the time being. 

They seemed comfortable, at least. Neither of them shivered. Lois sniffled a little, but it sounded like allergies, rather than anything he should try to wake her from. Jimmy had tucked himself into a little more of a ball, now that he had the space to without Clark there. And they were both still asleep.

Clark slowly unzipped the doors, First one, and then the other, and zipped them back just as cautiously as the unyielding cold pressed in around him. He could hear someone moving, it sounded like Jimmy, searching in his sleep for something to curl up against, his heartbeat just shy of waking. But he fell quiet quickly, so Clark, still doing his best to be quiet and not wake either of them the rest of the way, shuffled out of his sleeping bag and set his mattress pad just out of arm’s reach of the tent. 

It was fine. 

He liked sleeping under stars, it was like when he was a kid and Ma and Pa had taken him out to a lake with a little peninsula to watch the eclipse. They had spent the day napping and making moon-themed snacks and spent the night sprawled out under a brilliant night sky, eyes fixed on the moon as the earth passed between it and the sun. Clark had asked his questions and Ma and Pa had done their best to answer them, wrote down the ones they didn’t know to look up later. Clark had fallen asleep between them knowing he was loved, and woken in his bed, late in the day, still holding that warmth. 

So this was fine. He didn’t mind it. He did this because he loved his friends, because he didn’t want to hurt them. He did this out of love, and that provided enough warmth for him. 

He’d be fine. He focused on the soft song of the forest at night, let it wash over him. 

He did not register the sound of the tents unzipping. 

“Clark, get the hell in here, man.” Jimmy hissed. Clark jumped a few feet in the air like a severely startled cat and froze, on his knees in the snow, one hand on the wool mattress and the other holding his crumpled sleeping bag. It was burning cold, and Jimmy’s hands stung where they made contact with the snow outside the little straw welcome mat. Maybe Clark couldn’t feel the cold air pressing into his lungs and against his skin all that much, but Jimmy certainly could. And he knew there was more than one way to feel cold. 

“I’m okay, Jimmy.” Clark pasted on a smile, but his gums were showing. 

“No. You’re. Not. Get in here or I will drag you in here.” Jimmy growled. 

“Jimmy—“ Clark tilted his head, just a little, a sad, fond expression signaled the next words out his mouth would be full of some self-sacrificing reassurance Jimmy was tired of hearing and Clark didn’t even realize was harmful. But he abandoned whatever he was going to say next, his face suddenly bright and awed, “Jimmy look at the stars!”

Jimmy didn’t want to. He wanted Clark to go back to having confidence in a lifetime of learning to control his powers so he didn’t ever cause harm with them. He wanted his best friend to lay between him and Lois, all warm and safe like back in September, in the Before. He wanted Clark to overnight at Lois’ apartment sometimes, on purpose, not because he just happened to pass out there after a three am, the-city-is-safe-for-now date. He wanted his late night movie nights, when he and Clark sprawled out on the couch without a concern in the world, back. Hell, at this point he’d even take the painful balancing act he had to perform before Clark finally told him he was Superman back. He was tired, and he was angry about how much had been stolen from the three of them, of how much he would never get back like it was, if they ever got it back at all. All because of one man’s fear. And he was angry that Clark had let that one man’s fear shake him so deeply.

Maybe Lois wasn’t the only sad nostalgic. 

But he looked at the stars anyways, because his best friend was so excited about them. Because maybe there was a direction waiting for him to find up there he couldn’t find otherwise.

He gasped and scrambled back across the empty space where Clark should have been to shake Lois awake. “Lois, Lois! Come outside.”

“Mph.” Lois reached up and batted at Jimmy’s arms. He shook her again. 

“Lois, c’mon, wake up!” 

Lois jolted awake, “What?” She looked up at Jimmy, and over to where Clark should be, “Where’s Clark?”

“He’s outside, c’mon and look at the sky!” Jimmy tossed her her gloves and coat, put his own on, and scrambled back outside. 

There above them were the brightest stars Jimmy had ever seen in his life, he could even pick out the gentle hues of the milky way arched high overhead, and there were so many, even more than there were on the Kent farm. All across the horizon beams of light shot up to the sky in blues and oranges and teals, like northern lights had kissed the earth and froze time itself. 

“Whoa.” Lois breathed.

“The sky got like that on the farm sometimes, when it was very cold.” Clark whispered. “Ma called them ‘crystal pillars’.” 

“Dad called them light pillars.” Lois said. “They were my favorite thing about winter camping.”

Clark smiled his sappy, fond, tired smile, and reached for her hand.

“My parents called them UFO beams.” Jimmy said with a shrug and half a laugh. Lois and Clark stared at him for a moment, barely holding back grins themselves. He’d been young, only 4 or 5, and full of so many questions his parents could not keep up with him, though they did their best. And it was very rare, but he liked the idea of crystal pillars better than the idea of UFO beams; it sounded like the poetry he saw all around him, at least in this moment. 

And so they sat in silence, curled together on Clark’s mattress pad, the fire rekindled and a big blanket across their shoulders, their eyes turned to the sky in wonder. 

“Sleep with us.” Jimmy said, after a while, almost entirely out of the blue.

“And I thought I was the bold one.” Lois choked back a laugh, Clark burst out laughing so hard it thundered across the clearing. Jimmy couldn’t help chuckling too, despite his blush.

But Clark sobered all too quickly. 

“What if I hurt you?” Clark sighed. “We’ve been over this, and this is the safest way.”

“You decided this was the safest way.” Jimmy said, quietly, bitterly. “We said you’ve never thrashed in all the times you’ve had nightmares, yelled, sure. But even when we wake you up you just startle a bit.”

Lois nodded, “The most you have ever moved was just sitting up, as long as we are’t leaning over you, and we don’t, it’s fine. We got this, you know, you just gotta trust us a little.”

“You’re not a danger to us, man. We miss you. We miss having you with us.” Jimmy hugged Clark around the shoulders. Looked out at the vast sky, the crystal pillars that lined the horizon and pointed them home. “Just, try it, once.”

“It only takes once.” Clark hunched in on himself, instinctively shielding a vulnerability they all knew wasn’t there. But there was no shielding his heart. “I wish—“ Clark cut himself off abruptly. 

But Jimmy knew what he would have said, and, judging by the sad, lost look Lois shot him, she knew too. 

And there was nothing to say. No reminders of all the people he’d saved could ever comfort him from that. Because he knew, and he wouldn’t trade those lives for all the normalcy in the world. So Jimmy and Lois just did what they could; leaned in and hugged their friend. Told him he was loved, anyway, just as he was.

“I understand being afraid.” Lois started, quietly. “I can’t imagine how terrifying it is to know you could hurt someone on accident.”

“Lois!” Jimmy hissed. She glared him into silence.

“But you’re hurting too.”

“That doesn’t change anything.” Clark sighed again, tense, if Jimmy didn’t know him better he’d say Clark was two seconds from flying away and one second from an argument. 

“No.” Lois shrugged, “And maybe there isn’t a ‘right answer’ but can we just try? Please?”

Clark closed his eyes, avoided her gaze the same what he had in the clubhouse when they’d finally gotten him back, and she, just as she had back then, reached over and grabbed his face, forced him to look at her. Because Clark would almost always cave when he looked into her eyes. 

“I love you, and I know you can heal from this. Jimmy and I both do.” She said, sending a small, hopeful smile at Jimmy, and he nodded. “And maybe we can’t fix this, but we can try, can’t we? We can take it one day at a time, because you’re gonna figure it out, and it won’t always be like it is now, I promise.”

“Yeah. I told you before, when you decide to save people you gotta be willing to let them save you too.” Jimmy put a hand on Clark’s shoulder. “You’ve got nothing but hope and determination for a better future for the world, you just gotta apply it to yourself too.”

Clark turned to look at Jimmy, his check squished into Lois’ hand, Jimmy offered him his best ‘things are gonna be okay’ smile. And just like that Clark sighed, all the tension ran out of his body and left him slumped in their arms. And maybe he was just giving in for now because he was tired and Lois and Jimmy were getting cold, but Clark wasn’t the only hopeless optimist among them, and Clark wasn’t the only one capable of holding the smallest sliver of hope for the future. 

“Okay.” Clark nodded, “Okay, I’ll try, but the first sign of trouble you get out of the way, don’t try to wake me, just go.”

“We will.” Jimmy hugged Clark tightly, as though that alone could reassure him. Lois piled in on his other side, her grip just a tight, just as reassuring. It was the three of them under the stars with all the answers they contained. 

Jimmy started to shiver. Clark took off his flannel and tucked it and his sleeping bag around Jimmy. The fire staved off the worst of the cold, but it was still at least 10 below, with how bright the crystal pillars were, it was most likely even colder than that. 

“We should go in soon.” Clark said, his breath fogging. 

“I’m okay.” Jimmy and Lois assured him, reluctant to miss a second of the beauty above them. So they stayed out, stared at the sky for a while longer, transfixed.

When they did finally turn in, they zipped their bags together into a giant one. Partly because Lois and Jimmy were still shivering a little, but mostly because they just needed to stay together, with all these steps taken it felt impossible to allow another barrier. Clark stretched out on his back, Lois sidled up against his chest and grabbed onto his arm as tightly as she could, Jimmy tucked himself up into a ball against Clark’s other side. 

Lois grabbed his hand, and wove her fingers between his, she looked at him pleadingly, “You promise you’ll stay?”

“As long as I can.” Clark whispered, and for once in what felt like forever, he truly meant it. 

Clark was, if he were fully honest with himself, terrified. But he had agreed to try, at least once. And it had always been frightening, even before everything, it had been scary from the very start when his powers first appeared. But he’d been brave before, for the people he loved, and he would be brave now. 

For the people he loved.

He stared through the tent to the stars above, even though all the answers he needed were already right beside him. Slowly he drifted to sleep. 

And for once, finally, he did not dream. 

“Good morning, my precious, wonderful, dearest love.” Clark all but cooed the moment Lois woke up enough to be spoken to, his face close to hers, all soft and warm and gentle. Jimmy pretended to roll his eyes despite his grin. The lovebirds were cute, perhaps a little too sweet this early in the morning, but with all the time and effort he’d spent getting them together he couldn’t really complain. 

However Jimmy could not hold back his laugh at Lois’ grumbled, but fond, “Too fricken early, Clark.” Which was complete with a half-hearted hand pressed against Clark’s forehead. And Clark just grinned and let her steer his head back to his pillow, kissed what he could reach of her forearm ever so tenderly. “Go back to sleep.”

“I have to make breakfast.” Clark said softly, though he didn’t exactly seem keen on getting up. “I can hear your stomachs growling.”

Jimmy was finally warm, and while he was a little hungry, he was rather reluctant to move from his spot plastered to Clark’s side. Lois seemed to be of the same mindset, she burrowed further under his arm, closer to him. 

“Are you hungry?” Lois asked.

“Not yet.” Clark hedged. 

“Then it can wait.” Jimmy said, and flopped comfortably back onto his shoulder, the sleeping bag pulled up to his ears.   

Clark just smiled, finally, truly warm for what felt like the first time in years. 

“They’re like hockey pucks.” Jimmy tapped two of the frozen pancakes together. They made a satisfying clacking noise that echoed off the surrounding trees. “Or hardtack.”

Clark huffed a laugh and set some butter in the pan to melt, just as Jimmy bit down on one with a startling crunch. 

Lois raised her eyebrows, and Jimmy offered her the other frozen pancake puck, but even Clark couldn’t tell if it was for the sake of chaos or out of genuine enjoyment of his frozen snack.

“Well,” Lois broke a piece off with her hands and mushed it around in her mouth as it melted, her face wrinkled, “This is an experience.”

“I can heat them up for you.” Clark offered, doing his best not to laugh. 

“Nah, its a challenge now.” Jimmy crunched, loudly, on his ice-cake, his face scrunched up as he chewed. Lois nodded seriously as she huffed at hers to warm it up just a little.

“We can’t be bested by frozen pancakes, y’know. We’re friends with Superman.” She smirked.

Clark chuckled softly, and shook his head. He set the coffee pot on the rack above the fire, but, worried about Lois and Jimmy’s temperature dropping, poured some water into their little tin mugs and heated it with his vision. He scooped what he considered an appropriate amount of latte mix into his mug and offered the mix to Jimmy and Lois, who accepted it, copied what he’d done and dunked their frozen pancakes in it like the world’s most disappointing, cold, ever-so -slightly-soggy, cookies.  

“Hiking today?” Lois asked, she drank some coffee. “Oh! Clark what is this?”

“Cinnamon orange.” Clark said with a shrug. “My parents always had it when we went camping. I wouldn’t mind hiking.”

“I’m game as long as we take the scenic route.” Jimmy grinned, “I got us smoked fish for lunch.”

“Like a whole smoked fish?” Lois asked. 

“Three whole smoked fish!” Jimmy corrected cheerily, he opened his bag and showed her three sizable parcels wrapped in white paper. “From Fishtown. We can have a fancy picnic!” 

Lois grinned. “Theres an overlook a couple miles from here.” She pointed to it on the map she’d laminated at the Planet. “It has a picnic spot. Might not be up since it’s winter, but we can just bring Clark’s snow mattress with us just in case.”

“And I’ll heat up some more orange coffee before we go.” Clark held up a thermos that looked like it had been dropped down an entire mountain range and ran over by one of those snowplows that only showed up after a major storm, and then mildly set on fire. There were hardly any flecks of paint, and what little there was were chipped beyond recognition. 

“Clark, that thing needs a retirement party.”Jimmy pulled the new one from his bag. It was the exact same model, in the exact same color as what Jimmy thought the paint once had been. “I got you a new one.”

Clark held his thermos to his chest protectively, dramatic in a way so over-the-top he was clearly mostly joking. “It still works. But we can use that one too.”

“What happened to it?” Lois asked. 

“I dropped it a few times.” Clark shrugged and mumbled, “from the upper atmosphere.” As if he was embarrassed about it and hoped they wouldn’t hear. He perked up to declare: “And I ran it over with a tractor a couple times.”

“And it still works?” Lois reached for it when Clark nodded.

“Not perfectly but—“

“Can I see it?”

Clark handed it to her, “It’s been my camping buddy since I was 8.”

Lois shook it and listened to it rattle as though it had small rocks inside it rather than insulating layers. Probably a side effect of falling from space and being ran over by a tractor. Given Clark’s treatment it was a miracle it wasn’t dust. 

She traced her fingers along a weld on it’s side. “I have one like this from when I was little too, but I don’t take it anywhere.” 

It was from her mother, for camping as a family back when they still hoped they could, and she never used it, the same color and the the same type as Clark’s. Jimmy had gotten the color of the replacement wrong, dark blue when it was meant to be a burned green. 

He was looking at her again, in that quiet, sensitive way of his. She smiled back and shrugged. 

She was a little pained, but somehow, genuinely happy, something small had clicked into place and mended, something she didn’t think there were words to explain. She handed the thermos back to Clark, still grinning.

“It does need a retirement party, Smallville.” 

Clark cuddled the worn thermos, playfully scandalized.

And to Jimmy at least, it felt like they’d finally found all the pieces they needed. He’d been wrong about their trail, definitely. They’d never reach the ledge they fell from, but they’d found a new trail that led them on, led them home.

The hike was peaceful. The snow clung to the trees and made them look like lace, which reflected the blueish pink tones of the sky as it brightened throughout the afternoon. The pine trees were all weighed down, their boughs skirted around them into little shelters for small critters and birds. 

Ice crystals in the air danced and gleamed in the golden sunlight, they swirled with the wind and vanished in the shadows of the skeletal trees all around them. 

The arrived at the overlook in only a couple of hours and settled onto the bench provided. Clark poured out some coffee while Jimmy pulled out the trout he’d gotten at the pier before they left. 

“They’re frozen solid.” Jimmy smacked the fish on the table a few times, and looked pleadingly at Clark.

Clark laughed quietly and pulled the fish into the center of the table. The sound of his heat vision bounced off the trees until the fish started to steam. “They should be heated through now.”

The three of them grabbed the nearest fish before it could start to get cold again, tore the packages open as their stomachs growled. 

Clark stared at his fish for a long, long time, it stared back. “It has eyeballs, Jimmy.”

Jimmy cut the head off and put it in the bag, Clark followed his movements and stared at the bag for a long, lingering moment, still mildly distressed. 

Lois on the other hand, snatched the head out of the bag and ripped it’s face open, “You two are missing the good bits.” She carved out some of the face meat and offered it to Clark, who looked at her with his usual expression of love, and awe. But all the love in the world could not erase the half-hidden skepticism on his face as he let her pop it into his mouth. Lois dug out the other cheek and offered it to Jimmy. 

“Just try it!” Lois held her hand out more instantly. Jimmy looked over at her first victim, and Clark nodded in happy encouragement. Jimmy sighed and let her hand it to him. Tentatively tried it. 

It was good, actually. Not exactly something he would go to any great lengths to get, but not something he’d reject. Lois was already ripping open another head, with Clark watching on in what could only be described as profoundly affectionate and mildly afraid. 

And Jimmy didn’t blame him. He was once again very, very, very glad Lois was their friend, on their side. She joked all too often about how she was only good in an apocalypse, but the truth was that she was simply all-around unstoppable, not because of her survival skills (which rivaled everyone Jimmy knew) but because of her absolute ferocity. And her outright, unabashed passion for justice in the world around her.

Jimmy and Clark were lucky to be her friends. 

They ate their fish with quiet chatter about plans for stories and rumors to investigate, which quickly faded to questions about childhood and all their wild answers. 

Like Lois once had the coast guard called for her because she built her pretend pirate ship well enough to float but neglected to include a means of steering. Her father had, instead of punishing her for it, enrolled her in a sailing class, even though she had been too short to reach the wheel properly. He’d also spent a few precious weeks helping her build a little ship of her own. He was good sometimes, and that was the problem. 

But maybe it was a problem she didn’t need to solve to be happy as herself. 

Clark hadn’t been allowed to do any kind of farm work until he was 12, and that had been limited and only came about because Pa slipped on ice and broke his arm. He’d been able to lift the tractor long before he had been taught to drive it, and most of his ‘helping’ was just keeping Ma and Pa company as they worked. He was to be a child first, and to follow his own dreams whatever they might be, and then a farmer’s son. He was to be boundless, as was any child’s right.

And Jimmy had stolen one of his uncle’s disposable cameras when he was almost 2 and had taken the sorts of pictures only a toddler could. But he’d gotten so attached to the camera his parents had begged the photography technician to return it to them with the pictures. He still had the camera, dinged and dented and cracked with the print mostly worn away because he’d slept with it every night until he was 10 and his other uncle made him a plushie version, he kept the old camera in the cabinet with the teapot with legs and the plushie in bed. His family close, even though they were sprawled across thousands of miles. 

By the time the rose gold sun sank into the trees the fish were nothing but bones and scales, and they were full of each other’s stories. 

And happy. 

Jimmy made an excuse going to look for springtails to test his microscopic lens with so they’d have some time alone. He filled an entire memory card on mosses and the delicate shape of snow on pine needles while Lois and Clark talked quietly pressed up against each other. 

They were, despite or perhaps because of their constant displays of affection for each other, not the sort of couple who made out all of the time. Or even filled the moments Jimmy wandered off for their privacy with anything intense (near death situations aside). Most of the time they just held hands, smooched each other’s palms and cheeks and hair. Stared at each other like an old couple who had been in love forever, and if Jimmy let himself think too much about the universe and all it’s dimensions, maybe they had. 

And maybe it was just because they saved all that for real dates, safely alone in Lois’ apartment, but Jimmy still wanted to give them some time alone to be unabashedly, horrendously sweet to each other. To scar the eyes of the forest with their blindingly fluffy type of romance rather than his own. 

He slipped the full card into it’s case and put in the new one as he started back up the hill. Lois and Clark were exactly as he had left them; side by side, leaned against each other. Clark had one arm around her shoulder, his head turned towards her, and a gooey, lovestruck look on his face. Her arm was folded up to where his hung over her shoulder, her hand wrapped around a few fingers. The sun framed them in gold, glittering ice mist provided a backdrop of almost heartbreaking beauty as it filtered through the valley behind them.

Jimmy snapped a couple pictures before he called to them. He didn’t dare use up his battery showing them the pictures— he didn’t waste battery on looking at any of his photos when they went camping. He knew they’d go through them all when they got home anyways and it was easy enough to set the camera up to not show him in order to save batteries. There was nothing worse than finding the perfect picture and not being able to do anything because he had no charge. 

And if he were entirely honest with himself he liked the old film rules, when there was no way to know if something turned out well or not until it was printed. Plus there was something inherently peaceful about working in a dark room late at night, when everything was quiet and dim. 

The three of them made their way down the trail, to their home for one last night. Past the snowy trees and the wild shelters they made, as a vibrant sky lit their way.

Lois was quiet again, but it was a different quiet. A brighter one, her hand slipped into Clark’s just as it should be. 

“Hey actually, can you two do something cute?” Jimmy stopped, one hand on his camera again, glove off, inspiration burning in his veins. “This lighting is perfect.”

Clark stared at his best friend with wide eyes, and then at Lois with the same lost deer in the headlights expression. It was as if all the things he did instinctively to and for Lois had suddenly escaped him and he had no idea what the term ‘cute’ even meant. 

Lois stood on her toes and tried her best to kiss some sense back into him. It seemed to work because seconds later they were soaring. Not high, just a little above the snow, but perfectly dyed in the light of golden hour. 

Clark reached for Jimmy, one arm tight around Lois’ waist, “You too, c’mon Jimmy, its beautiful up here.”

And with that Jimmy was soaring, high above the pastel painted forest, he snapped some pictures of the ground, and then some of the three of them up in the air. Happy and safe, their faces brightened by the cold, golden sunlight reflected in their smiles. 

The three of them settled in the way they usually did. Clark crosslegged in the center, his hands tucked around a cozy romance novel, Lois leaned against his elbow, her arms and back braced on his leg, a mystery novel in hand, and Jimmy, almost laid down with his head rested on Clark’s knee, with a quirky fiction anthology. The lantern above them flickered a little in the cold, but they were warm all tucked under blankets in the pocket of their mega-sleeping bag, Clark between them like a radiator. 

“We smell like smoked trout.” Lois sniffed her hands, her book on her chest.

“It’s because of all the fishy business we’ve been up to. Out here in the wilderness, all alone.” Jimmy quipped as he turned a page. “No wonder Perry was so concerned.”

“I mean we really have scaled a lot of challenges.” Clark added. 

“Are you two finished.” Lois smirked.

“I’m sure we cod be.” Jimmy laughed, and then laughed harder when he realized Lois had made a pun too. Clark was shaking, but trying so hard to laugh without disturbing either of them. 

It wasn’t working, and that alone made them laugh harder, fueled by that strange, tired energy only the last night of a camping trip could contain. 

“We should sleep soon.” Jimmy said with a yawn, though he was too engaged in the story to follow through (it was about Bigfoot. How could he possibly resist a story about Bigfoot?)

“Probably.” Lois and Clark said at the exact same time, and turned a page in tandem. They kept reading until their lantern started to flicker, on the last set of batteries they’d brought with them. 

They settled into their combined sleeping bag and tried to stay awake just a little longer to enjoy each other’s company like this for just a little more time. 

Clark was the first to sleep, a what if question left unasked behind his teeth. It didn’t matter, not really, because he knew in his heart the answer would be one of unyielding love. 

But he found himself in the cornfield again, his heart rate quickened. Again he watched the ship attack, paralyzed and helpless in a ray of painful green light, and again he watched his family evaporate in the flames one by one as he called their names. 

“We’re fine.” Jimmy said, his voice floated through the fire. Something soft pressed against his arm but when he turned to look there was nothing there

“But the fire.” Clark murmured, “I can’t save you.”

“It’s just a campfire, remember?” Lois said, softly. Her hands on his like ice, though he couldn’t see her, “You don’t need to save anyone from a campfire.” 

The fire tamed at her suggestion. Flickered against snow and then stone as it changed to a hearth. The sound of gunfire to Ma’s knitting in the background, the sound of metal crashing into the earth to Pa’s pan scraping on the stove as popcorn popped. The inescapable ray of agonizing green faded quietly and seamlessly into the warmth and softness of a weighted blanket and his friends, his family, safely rested against his sides. As though it was always this way. 

Clark sighed. 

“I love you.”

“We love you too.”

“Go back to sleep, Clark.”

Morning came all too soon. Left them to quietly pack up their camp, careful to leave behind only the packed down snow and the barest remnants of their fire. Clark carried the heaviest of their stuff home at light speed, and returned to hike back with them to the bus stop. 

They had to keep up appearances after all, and if Superman flew Lois and Jimmy back home, but not Clark Kent, they’d face far more questions than they wanted to answer. 

Besides, the hike was fun. Since they were heading home and no longer needed to avoid getting wet they could let loose a little more. 

Lois launched a snowball at Clark, who turned around just in time to see it whiz by his shoulder and buzz Jimmy’s hair. 

Lois grinned and bent to get more snow. Jimmy and Clark split and darted into the trees. Jimmy popped out and tossed a snowball at Lois with abysmal aim, and got a shoulder full of snow for his trouble. Clark dodged nimbly as he did his best to make a snowball, the first was too fluffy and dissipated into wintery puff when he tried to throw it, which drifted back into his face. The second was a ball of ice, which he dropped after testing. The third held together but Clark was to afraid of throwing too hard and Lois watched it arc gracefully through the air to land all of 10 feet in front of her.  She packed the snowball in her hand even tighter with a truly maniacal grin, sharp, calculating eyes locked on Clark who was too in love with her to move away.

This of course left both of them wide open for Jimmy to fling snowballs at the both of them. And both hit. 

They turned to look at Jimmy in tandem and Jimmy ran, laughing, behind a big pine tree. 

Clark couldn’t throw a snowball to save his life, but Lois was formidable. They chased each other through the forest, looping around through the trail they were supposed to be on with absolute glee. But then Jimmy felt himself slip, too close to the cliffs edge in one stomach sinking drop. 

Clark was next to him in an instant and steadied him before he even finished slipping. 

“Thanks Clark.”

“You okay?” Lois asked, as she ran down the hill. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Clark stop x-raying me, I didn’t even fall.” Jimmy put his hand over Clark’s eyes for a second, only partially serious. “That was fun.”

His friends stayed close as they made their way uphill, they stopped only when they were high up on the hill on a level area near the trail Jimmy was almost certain was for picnics in fairer weather. The cliff offered a picturesque view of the city. 

“Wait! One more thing, this spot is perfect.” Lois said, she shrugged off her bag and stood next to a snowdrift, her arms spread wide and a big mischievous grin on her face.

She let herself flop into the snow with a happy sigh. It was soft and cradled her body like a perfect mattress. She opened her eyes to find Clark kneeling over her with concern. 

“Lois?”

“C’mon Clark.” She patted the snow beside her, she sat up a little, she could see Jimmy with his camera out and ready. “And Jimmy! You have to try this.”

“No thanks.” Jimmy waved, slightly amused, but also almost entirely certain his friends had finally lost it. “That looks cold.”

Clark flopped over beside her in a big puff of snow, he sighed and snuggled in like a bird settling their feathers at night.

“It’s so comfy, right?” Lois asked, eagerly. She’d always loved to lay in the snowdrifts, it, along with the spectacular views of the stars, was one of her favorite parts of winter. She loved staring up at the bright blue sky and all it’s clouds, tucked safely into her little fortress of snow. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah.” Clark smiled at her, rolled over just long enough to press a kiss to her cheek. 

They were just at the edge of the park, nearly to the trailhead and just barely in view of the city. From where they stood, it seemed to rise right out of the ocean, hazy shapes that faded into each other and out into the gentle blue grey of the vast water beyond. If Clark squinted just right he could see the people as they wandered the streets, the birds as they rested in the cracks of buildings. Tux the cat in the tree again, but finally learning how to find his own way down, where his human waited for him with wide open arms.

“Thanks for doing this.” Lois reached around Jimmy and Clark’s shoulders and hugged them close. 

“I gotta admit it was actually pretty fun.” Jimmy grinned. 

Clark nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of Lois’ head. “We should go again soon.”

“Says the man who doesn’t get cold.” Jimmy huffed as he playfully pushed on Clark’s shoulder. 

“Clark, I love you but I’ve had my fill of winter camping for a while.” Lois said, as she stood on the tips of her toes and gave him a kiss, “But maybe we can make a it a yearly trip?”

“I like the idea of a yearly trip.” Jimmy agreed, and Clark nodded with a bright smile. 

“Something we can look forward to every season.” Clark put his arms around his friends and pulled them close, into his warmth. The sun set and dyed the snow pink against the blue shadows of Metropolis’s sturdy edges, the windows all lined with gold. There was snow coming, dark clouds gathered far, far away, but it wasn’t there yet. 

They all needed something to come back to, after all. A promise, spoken or unspoken set out to the future that needed to be kept, something to remind them, on the hardest of days, that there were plans to be kept and people to live for. 

Someone waiting at the foot of the tree with wide open arms.