by Karen Colohan

Hot summer day, white canvas billowing, the mansion's gardens full of guests - the sense of deja vu makes Clark's stomach flip queasily. Tugging on the hem of his jacket he tries to pay attention... apparently fails.

"Clark, the ring!"

The low voice grounds him and he looks up into concerned blue eyes.

"Sorry," he mutters, pulling the plush box from his pocket. Opening it, he offers it to Lex.

Long fingers reach for the gold band glinting against dark velvet. Surreptitiously, they stretch beyond it, curving around Clark's hand, squeezing gently. They linger a moment, holding on, then slowly withdraw.

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