Previously, on Clark's Heart:
"Superman, I just wanted to extend my personal thanks," the woman said. Her badge identified her as Major. "I didn't know it until just a few moments ago, but my sister was one of the people you pulled from the water. Thanks to you, she's going to live."
"I'm happy to hear that she'll be okay," Clark said sincerely. He gazed back at the scene for a quick second. "I wish I'd been able to do more, but I'm glad so many are safe."
"Safe because of you. Anyway, I need to get back." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the cleanup that was going on. "Thanks again, Superman."
She strode away, blonde ponytail swaying as she went. Clark turned back to the still dispersing crowd. He was about to gesture to Lois that he would happily provide a Superman statement for their article, but as he stepped forward, everything went wrong.
Pain shot through his chest and arms. Nausea washed over him and he had to fight the urge to vomit. His knees buckled beneath him, sending him crashing to the asphalt, while weakness flooded him. His first thought was that someone nearby had Kryptonite, but after a few moments of agony, he realized that whatever it was that he was feeling, it was not the same as the sickness he usually experienced when exposed to the radioactive stone. His heart sped up and it felt difficult to draw a breath.
"Superman?!?!"
It seemed everyone in the area was calling his name. He tried to answer, tried to stand, but failed on both accounts. Someone rushed to his side. The policewoman, Major, he thought it was, but it was difficult to tell. It was as if his very thoughts were swimming through pain. He was, however, very aware when Lois dropped to her knees in front of him. Miraculously, no one was pushing her away. Perhaps that was because the friendship between Lois Lane, Clark Kent, and Superman was so well known, that none of the first responders paid any mind to her presence there.
"Superman?" she asked, sheer, naked terror in her voice.
It was enough to pull Clark back from the edge of the abyss.
"Superman?" she called again, cupping his chin with her hand and forcing him to make eye contact with her. "What's wrong?"
Clark drew as deep a breath as he dared. It didn't make sense him. He'd always believed that he was completely healthy. He didn't understand how or why this was happening to him. But he knew the signs - knew it from a hundred or more rescues he'd made with people experiencing what he was currently feeling.
"I think," he gasped out, his chest tightening further with the effort of speaking. "I think I'm having a heart attack."
***
"You...what?" Lois asked, her face going stark white.
Clark could only moan softly against the pain.
"Excuse me, Lois," Henderson said, pulling her a few steps back from where Clark was still on his hands and knees. "You need to back up. Let the paramedics do their job."
"But..." she protested softly, careful not to sound like the terrified wife she was.
Clark wondered when Henderson had arrived on the scene. He'd been so busy, he hadn't noticed his friend there before. But the thought was there and gone in the blink of an eye. Instead, he tried to focus on the two paramedics who knelt by his side and began to check him over. He willingly submitted himself to whatever vital checks and tests they wanted to run, wanting only for the attack to end, for the pain to subside.
After what felt like decades but was, in actuality, less than five minutes, it finally did. Bit by bit, his pain lessened and then vanished. The weakness in his body fled. His head cleared and his chest no longer felt like it was being crushed in a Kryptonite vice. Shakily, he stood after gulping in some much needed air.
"Are you okay?" Major asked him.
"I...I think so," Clark said, his voice wavering only the slightest bit.
He sounded brave and strong, but he knew he'd never fool Lois. Looking at her, he knew he was right about that. She was attempting to master her emotions, to appear to be no more than a concerned onlooker or scared friend. Clark had the thought that she was doing a pretty great job of it, all things considered. She did not look like a woman who'd just watched her husband go through such a terrifying ordeal.
"Are you sure, Superman?" Lois managed to ask in an even tone.
"As far as I can tell."
"Superman," one of the two paramedics, a skinny, bald black man said. His uniform identified him as Washburn. "It does appear that you've had a heart attack. I'd like it if you allowed us to take you to the hospital for a more thorough check, just to be on the safe side.
"I understand," Clark said, nodding. "But there's not much that can be done for me at the hospital. I promise, I'll get checked, but I'd prefer to see my usual team of doctors."
The man hesitated, but eventually nodded slowly. "Alright. But, take it easy, please. I can't guarantee that you are one hundred percent right now."
"I promise," Clark said, giving the man a smile.
"Can we give you a lift?" Washburn asked, gesturing to the ambulances.
Clark shook his head. "No, but thanks. There're still a lot of people and things that need attention here. I'll find another way to get where I need to go."
"Lane. You're a friend of Superman's," Henderson put in. "Give him a ride?"
"I'd be happy to," Lois said.
"Great. It's settled," Clark said in the professional manner of the Superman persona.
He turned, his cape flaring out behind him a little in the warm breeze that had sprung up. It felt good, caressing his skin and drying the remaining sweat on his brow. He took a deep breath, immensely grateful to be able to breathe again, then began to walk. Lois matched him, stride for stride, keeping a respectful distance from him, though he could all but feel how much she ached to hold him. He felt the same way, felt that same urge to hold her to ensure himself that both he and Lois were okay.
"This way, Superman," she said, taking the lead and pointing to where he Jeep was parked.
As soon as the door was unlocked, Clark clamored into the passenger seat and collapsed against the backrest. Despite the fact that he was feeling better, the whole afternoon had been draining. All his joy at finding out that his son was healthy had been shoved to the back burner in the wake of the accident and his heart attack. Now though, as he allowed Lois to drive him through the city, he clung to that joy in an effort to chase away his lingering sadness over the lives lost and his fear for himself.
"Clark," Lois finally said, and he could hear the tears in her voice. "What happened back there?"
He shook his head, at a complete loss. "I'm not sure. I've never felt anything like that before. It was so different from Kryptonite sickness."
"How can you have a heart attack? I thought your body was invulnerable in every way."
"I thought so too," he said, hanging his head and resting his chin on his chest. "I don't understand it any more than you do, believe me."
"I don't think I've ever been that scared for you," Lois admitted in a near whisper as she pulled away from the curb.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I wish I could have spared you from seeing that."
"Well," she said, determination creeping back into her tone, "maybe Dr. Klein has some idea of why the healthiest man on the planet suddenly has a heart attack in the middle of the street."
"I just don't understand it," Clark said, more to himself than to Lois. "I've done things that have required far more of a physical effort than what I did today. Not that today was the easiest rescue I've ever made. But still..." He allowed his voice to trail off helplessly.
"We'll get to the bottom of it," Lois assured him, reaching over to him to take his hand in her own as they hit a relatively unoccupied stretch of road.
"I hope so. I've got much more important things to worry about. Like building my son's nursery furniture, picking out names with my wife, the works." He looked over to Lois and caught her smile, returning it with one of his own.
"First things first," Lois said, putting both hands back on the wheel as she rounded a tight corner. "Let's get you to S.T.A.R. Labs."
***
"Superman! Lois!" Dr. Klein said, standing up from his work bench and momentarily forgetting the chemicals he was mixing in glass beakers. "This is a surprise. What can I do for you?" He went to step forward, hit the desk, and nearly spilled a beaker filled with a light pink liquid.
"Dr. Klein," Clark said gravely. "I need your help."
Lois checked the hallway beyond the doctor's office and then shut the door softly, so as not to rouse suspicion. "There was an...incident."
"Incident?" Dr. Klein repeated. "What kind of incident?"
"The Metropolis Bridge collapsed," Clark said, by way of explanation.
"It did? I've been cooped up in here all day." He checked his watch. "Oh, geez, no wonder why I'm hungry. I should have eaten lunch six hours ago."
"Dr. Klein," Lois said stiffly, in an effort to jerk the man's attention back to the issue at hand.
"Huh? Oh. Sorry. Continue, please, Superman."
"Well, I did what I would normally do. Getting people off the bridge, saving those who'd fallen in the water, clearing the roadway and retrieving the dead." He gestured vaguely as he spoke. "When it was all over, I was going to fly off. But then...the strangest feeling came over me."
"Kryptonite?" Dr. Klein guessed.
"No," Clark replied, his tone serious but letting the doctor know he was not upset with the interruption. "I had a heart attack."
"What?"
"At least, I had all the symptoms. The chest tightness, shortness of breath, weakness, you name it. And the paramedics seemed to concur with that diagnosis."
"Oh, God," the man stammered, momentarily at a loss. "I mean..." he licked his lips nervously as he tried to think of something to say.
"It's okay, Doc," Clark said, crossing his arms before his chest as he leaned against the wall. "I feel fine now. Just a little shaken by what happened, that's all."
"Well, I'll run whatever tests I can," Dr. Klein assured him.
"Lois, why don't you had back to the Planet? I'm sure you need to get to work on the bridge collapse story. I'll be fine here."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"You'll be okay to fly back...to wherever it is you go?" she asked, catching herself in midsentence, though Clark guessed that Dr. Klein hadn't heard the near slip.
"I'll be fine. I appreciate you giving me a lift here. Go on. I'm sure Clark will be getting back to the Planet soon himself," he assured her.
"Okay. But if you do need me..." She left the invitation hanging in the air. "Thanks, Dr. Klein."
Clark watched her leave before turning his eyes back to his doctor. The man gestured for Clark to sit, so he grabbed the nearest stool and sat. Dr. Klein sat as well, and appeared to be deep in thought. When he didn't speak for several minutes, Clark grew too antsy to stay quiet.
"Dr. Klein?" he asked.
"Huh? Oh."
"I didn't want to say anything in front of Lois. I don't want to upset her. But I am worried about this. What can we do, as far as tests? I need to know if this was a fluke or not."
"Well," Dr. Klein said thoughtfully and fidgeting with a glass stirring stick. "There are a few simple things we can start with."
"Great. Let's get started then," Clark said, eager to get the whole episode behind him.
"The thing is, Superman, I can't guarantee results."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I can run a CAT Scan and an echocardiogram. And I will. But I can't say with any degree of certainty that the machines will be able to return any images. Your molecular structure is so much denser than a normal human's. At best, I think we can expect imperfect images of your heart. At worse, we'll see nothing."
"Isn't there anything else we can do?" Clark asked, his alarm rising.
Dr. Klein shook his head. "A blood test, but that's about it."
"Well, that doesn't sound so bad," Clark said.
"Just give me a couple of minutes to gather up what I need," Dr. Klein said, standing.
"Uh...Dr. Klein? I just want to make sure that this...whole thing...stays between just the two of us for now."
"Absolutely."
"Thanks."
Clark waited with as much patience as he could muster while Dr. Klein was gone. Still, after about a minute, he took to pacing, needing an outlet for his nervous energy. He stopped when the doctor returned, a small lead box in his hands.
"I'm sorry, Superman," the man said, looking as miserable as Clark knew he was going to feel in another minute.
"Don't be," Clark said. "It's a necessary evil."
"I'm glad you understand."
"I do."
"Are you ready?" Dr. Klein asked.
Clark rolled his sleeve up as far as the unforgiving Spandex would allow. "Ready when you are."
Dr. Klein mutely nodded and tied a tourniquet around Clark's arm. He searched for a moment, looking for an accessible vein, then swabbed Clark's arm with an alcohol wipe. He let the area air-dry for a few seconds before flipping open the lid to the lead box. Clark immediately groaned as the small fragment of Kryptonite began its savage assault on his body. Weakness and nausea took him, forcing him to clamp his eyes shut against the unpleasant sensations he was experiencing.
"This won't take more than half a minute," the doctor promised him.
Clark felt the sharp jab as the slender needle punctured his flesh and slid into his vein. Dr. Klein filled a couple of tubes with Clark's blood, untying the tourniquet when he was close to finishing. Then he was done, removing the needle and shutting the lead box. Immediately, Clark felt the microscopic puncture close up, leaving no trace of the wound behind.
"I'll run this sample myself," Dr. Klein assured him. "No one else will know about it."
"I appreciate that. If word got out that I might not be up to snuff..." He shrugged. "The crime organizations would have a field day."
"Let me get this started now. I won't have results right away, but I'm sure we can figure out some way for me to get the results to you."
"You can always call Lois or Clark. They know how to contact me."
Again, the man nodded. "I thought as much."
For several long minutes, Dr. Klein worked with the tubes of blood, prepping them and getting them in machines that Clark didn't really understand. He didn't care, so long as his results came back quickly. Once the doctor was finished, he led Clark through the halls, to a scheduled room to attempt an echocardiogram. Clark saw only one other doctor as he walked, an older man by the name of Ted Kensington. He was a good man and one who Clark trusted. He greeted Clark warmly enough, but asked no questions about what the Man of Steel was doing at S.T.A.R. Labs, for which Clark was infinitely grateful.
"This room is about as private as it gets around here," Dr. Klein said as he closed the door to the tiny procedure room. "We'll begin with a simple echocardiogram," he explained as he gathered what he needed and switched on the ultrasound machine. "I'll need you to remove the top half of your uniform, please."
Clark did as he was asked. His earlier heart attack had spooked him severely, so he opted to unzip the Spandex and pull it down to dangle around his waist at normal, human speed. His cape he hung on the back of a chair, to prevent it from creasing. Then he lay on the table and allowed Dr. Klein to conduct the ultrasound.
Only a few hours ago, Lois was the one having this procedure done, he thought to himself with a mental sigh.
Clark watched the grainy images on the ultrasound machine's screen as Dr. Klein expertly moved the wand back and forth over his chest, checking the heart, lungs, and surrounding tissues. He didn't speak and Clark couldn't tell one blob on screen from another. Instead, he lay silent but deeply worried over the man's silence.
"You can sit up and dress," Dr. Klein said after a while. He handed Clark a towel to wipe the ultrasound gel off with.
"So...?" Clark prodded, leaving the question open-ended, hopping the doctor would pick up the hint.
"It's hard to tell for sure," Dr. Klein said.
Clark could sense the unease in his voice as he spoke. Whatever he'd seen, Dr. Klein was in no rush to say. Clark knew that the man would attempt to stall for time as he tried to find a way to say what he needed to.
"Just...tell it to me straight," Clark encouraged him. "I can handle whatever it is."
"No. It's literally hard to tell," Dr. Klein said with a shake of his head. "The machine isn't powerful enough to penetrate all the way through. Your molecular mass is too thick, as I'd feared."
"Will the CAT Scan work?" Clark wondered.
"We can try."
"How soon can we do it?"
"Now, if you have the time," Dr. Klein said, shrugging. "As you know, we're one of the foremost research labs in the nation. We have one on the basement level."
Clark nodded. "Let's do it. I'd rather not wait on this."
"Nor I," Dr. Klein agreed.
Together, they travelled down the elevator together, when Clark was once more dressed fully. The basement air was slightly chillier than the rest of the building, but Clark didn't mind. It felt refreshing somehow, like he could breathe a little easier. Perhaps it was because of the echoing isolation of the unpopulated floor that set Clark's nerves ever so slightly more at ease. He was still afraid that someone might see him there and deduce that Superman was not at his best.
"I'm sorry, Superman, but I need to inject a dye into your veins," the doctor said apologetically.
"I understand."
"I'll be back in a few minutes."
Dr. Klein whisked out the door, only to return five minutes later with the box containing the Kryptonite that he'd used earlier to take Clark's blood. Again, Clark felt the debilitating effects of the stone as the box's lid was open. Dr. Klein was mercifully brief with the injection, and before long, Clark was laying in the machine, the pain from the Kryptonite exposure already forgotten. He closed his eyes against the flashing lights and tried to focus his thoughts only on Lois and their unborn son, in an effort to block out the sounds the scan made as it took images of his heart.
***
A little over an hour later, Clark left S.T.A.R. Labs, unsure what to think. He found a secluded spot and changed back into his civilian clothing, then hailed a cab. The constant and obnoxiously loud steel drum music grated on his nerves for the entire trip back to the Daily Planet, but he sat in silent reflection. When he finally reached the office and made it into the bullpen, he was in a daze. He found Lois easily enough. She was at her desk, leaving a heated message to some unknown party on the other end.
"Hi," she said, looking him over as if to assure herself that he was still in one piece. "How'd everything go with Dr. Klein?"
"Is the bridge collapse story filed yet?" he asked instead.
"Yeah. About ten minutes ago."
"Good. So we're free to go home?"
She nodded slowly, appraising him, concern in her eyes. "Clark, what is going on? You're scaring me."
"I don't..." he glanced around and grew quiet until Ralph passed them, reeking of garlic and onions from whatever he'd eaten for dinner. "I'd rather not talk about it here." It was simple and the truth, but he also mentally winced at Lois' rising look of alarm.
"Okay," she said simply, and Clark was grateful that, for once, she wasn't arguing the point with him. "Let's go."
She grabbed her purse and dug out her keys as Clark followed her back to the elevators. He was silent, contemplative. He stayed that way, all the way down to the garage, and all the way back to their townhouse. Lois was quiet as well, but he could see that it was eating her alive to hold her tongue. He had to give her credit though, for managing not to pepper him with questions.
He waited until they were safely in their living room, the door shut and locked behind them for the night. He flopped wearily onto the couch, choosing to tuck himself into the corner of it, rather than command a section more toward the middle, as he normally would. Lois saw his body language and fearfully mimicked it.
"Clark..." she began when he didn't speak. "What did Dr. Klein say?"
He swallowed hard. "Nothing good," he said softly, unable to muster any strength into his voice.
"How...how bad is it?"
"Bad."
"Clark, please. I need more than one or two word answers here," she pleaded.
Clark removed his glasses and set them aside on the coffee table. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought. The whole way back to the Planet, and then back home, he'd tried to find the words he'd need to say, and failed.
"Remember last year?" he finally asked. "Remember how I had to...give up...some of my life-force to save Jimmy?"
"Of course. I was terrified, seeing that machine suck away...whatever it was...years of your life, your life-force, however you want to word it."
"And then, about a month later?"
"Deathstroke," she immediately replied.
He nodded in affirmation. "Deathstroke."
"What does...?"
He cut her off before she could ask the question. "Dr. Klein has a theory. He thinks that those two events, especially so close together, put a strain on my body. Well, more of a strain than he suspected at the time. That strain, he believes, weakened my heart."
"And that caused the heart attack?"
"Yes. Again, as far as we can tell."
"When you say 'weakened,' what, exactly, does that mean?" she asked, panic now dripping from her words.
Clark took a breath, steeling himself before he could deliver the news.
"It means," he finally said, "that my heart has been...compromised."
"You mean, damaged," she clarified, reading between the lines.
"Yes," he said, dropping his chin to his chest for a moment.
"How bad?"
"Unless I receive a heart transplant, I'll die."
To Be Continued...
