Previously, on Clark's Heart:
"Wonder?" Clark echoed, feeling a cold knot of dread begin to form in his stomach.
"About Superman. I mean, where is he? One day he's at every accident and emergency situation there is. Then, suddenly, bam! he's gone without a trace. I don't mean to be harsh. I consider him a friend, and I know the two of you are close and all. But, the world could really use him."
"Believe me, Jimmy, he's got his reasons, I'm sure of that. And I know it's got to be killing him to have to step back from his duties."
"He's coming back, right?" The slight anger in Jimmy's voice turned to worry.
"He's hoping he'll be back in action as soon as possible," Clark said with as much conviction as he could muster. He lightly clapped his friend on the shoulder.
Jimmy nodded, appeased. "Tell him that I hope whatever's keeping him away clears up soon."
"I will."
"Oh, I, uh, had a question for you about the research you wanted me to run on..."
Clark didn't hear the rest of what Jimmy was saying. His chest suddenly tightened and pain began to radiate in his arms. He went to sit down in his desk chair, missed the seat, and collapsed on the floor, his head smacking the tile with a heavy thud. Nausea rolled over him in a perfect copy of his first heart attack.
"CK? CK?" Jimmy called, panicked.
Clark tried to respond, but found himself unable.
"Lois!" Jimmy screamed when Clark didn't respond. "Someone! Help!"
Clark heard Lois come running, her heels clicking loudly against the floor as the newsroom came to an almost never before seen hush, like a movie placed on pause. She dropped to her knees and cradled his head against her, holding him when his pulse skyrocketed.
"Clark? Clark? Can you hear me?"
"I'll call 911," Jimmy said, finally coming around to rational thinking.
"No. I'll drive him to the hospital," Lois said, to Clark's great relief. Neither one wanted paramedics to work on Clark and potentially discover his secret. "Call Dr. Klein. Tell him to meet me at Metropolis General."
"Dr. Klein? But he's not..." Jimmy began to argue.
"I know," Lois snapped in fear and impatience. "Just do it, Jimmy."
"Lois," Clark called softly, as the pain began to recede.
"Hey," she said, soothing him, running a hand along his jaw line. "Are you okay?"
"No," he said, still in pain, but now less so than a minute before. "We need to get to the hospital. Now."
***
Dr. Klein's face was grim as he stepped into the small hospital room where Clark had been ushered upon his arrival at Metropolis General. Clark was in the bed, dressed in nothing more than the hospital issued gowns he'd been handed by a particularly gruff nurse. The bed was at an incline, and flat, almost hard pillows cushioned Clark's back and head. He was, at least, feeling better, now that his second heart attack was over.
On the ride to the hospital, he'd been in so much pain that his chest had felt ready to burst from the pressure. His pulse had skyrocketed and his vision had swum so badly that he hadn't been able to bear keeping his eyes open. He'd thought, more than once, that the end had come for him - that his seriously damaged heart was finally going to give out on him and that death would take him to whatever awaited in the great beyond.
Once at the hospital, he'd been whisked away, straight to Dr. Klein, who'd, thankfully, gotten there before Lois and Clark had arrived. By then, Clark's pain had begun to lessen. But Dr. Klein hadn't wasted a second. He'd summoned a nurse to get Clark a room and some gowns, then had run a battery of tests on him. Some, Clark had undergone before. Some were new. Again, blood had needed to be drawn, so Clark had gritted his teeth and submitted himself to the ravaging effects of the small piece of Kryptonite that the doctor had smuggled out of the vaults at S.T.A.R. Labs. Already feeling ill, it had been all Clark could do to stay conscious. That blood draw had seemed to take a lifetime, as Dr. Klein filled several vials for the numerous tests he'd wanted to run.
The room Clark had been placed in had been specifically chosen for the amount of sunlight it would afford him, as well as the privacy it would give both Clark and his team of doctors. He'd been grateful for the doctor's forethought on that. The warm, afternoon sunlight had done wonders for him as he'd been forced to lay in the uncomfortable hospital bed. The effects of the Kryptonite had faded soon after Lois had opened the blinds to their fullest.
Now, though, the results seemed to be in.
"How bad is it?" Clark asked as the man came in and shut the door behind them, to afford them some privacy.
Dr. Klein sat in the only empty chair in the room, which was next to the one Lois was in.
"It isn't good, I'm afraid."
"How bad?" Clark repeated.
Dr. Klein took a steadying breath. "Bad. That last attack did a number on what was left of the healthy heart tissue. I hate to say it, but, if you were a normal man, you wouldn't be alive right now. I think your body is trying to heal the damage, but it can't."
"Oh, God," Lois breathed.
"The good news," Dr. Klein continued, as if any news could possibly alleviate the tension in the room, "is that none of your other organs seem to be affected. It appears that it's only your heart."
"You know," Clark said weakly, still not feeling back to his normal self, "I could almost feel my body fighting back, both times."
Dr. Klein nodded. "It's possible that that is exactly what was happening. Your body is so completely unique. It's possible that your powers - the part of you that normally is invulnerable - protected the rest of your body."
"But why wouldn't it protect his heart too?" Lois asked, and Clark had to give her credit for being as calm as she was.
Dr. Klein shook his head. "My guess - and that's all I really have to go on, you understand - is that the damage to his heart somehow prevented that protection from being in place. Some permanent muscle death caused when he fought Deathstroke is the most likely scenario. Think of Clark's body as a suit of armor with one spot of rust. Given enough time, that rust will weaken that one place until any sword or spear can break right through to wound the wearer."
"And how bad is my 'rust spot?'" Clark asked, dreading the answer, knowing it wasn't good.
"Enough that I want you to stay in the hospital," the doctor said, not meeting his eyes. "I think another one is coming. And if you aren't here, I can't be sure that you'll survive it. At least if you're here, we can do certain things to try to keep you alive while we continue to work on some fix for your heart."
"And how close are you to that?" Lois asked, grabbing Clark's hand and giving it a squeeze.
Dr. Klein bit his lower lip in nervousness. "No closer than we were weeks ago, I'm afraid. I'm trying to remain hopeful though."
Lois' face fell measurably. Clark squeezed her hand back.
"I'm sure something will come along," Clark offered in as cheerful a voice as he could muster, though he really wasn't hopeful at all.
"I have to get back and check on some of the tests I've been running. I want you to lay here and relax, got it?" the doctor told Clark. "No more...you know." He gestured vaguely, unsure how to express that he meant Clark's powers.
"I promise," Clark swore. "I'm too drained to do anything even if I wanted to."
"I'll be back later to check on you," the doctor promised. "If you need anything, just buzz. I've hand-selected your care team. All have worked with celebrity patients before, so they know the drill with keeping things as quiet as possible that you're here. Uh, the Clark you, I mean. I know you wanted that to stay private."
"I do," Clark confirmed. "The Dirt Digger or Inquisitor would have a field day if they knew. Just look at the coverage and dirt they tried to find during our wedding." He shook his head. "Thanks for the added secrecy, doc. I really appreciate it."
"Any time," Dr. Klein said with a genuine smile. He stood and touched Clark's shoulder in a comforting way. "I'll be back."
Then he was gone, leaving Lois and Clark alone in the sudden silence left in the wake of his departure.
"I'm so sorry, Lois," Clark finally said, after a couple of minutes spent looking out between the slats of his window shades. "I never meant for this to happen."
Lois shook her head. "No, Clark. I've already told you not to apologize. You helped save the lives of children today."
"And put my own life at risk."
"Which you've been doing time and again, ever since I met you."
"That's not the same," he argued. "I wasn't...in the position that I am now."
"No, but any time you flashed around in the cape, you never knew who might be around with a certain green rock," she stubbornly pointed out.
"That's different," he repeated, staunch in his viewpoint. "All of those times..." he gestured weakly, "I was taking a risk, sure. But I never had such an...almost guarantee...that I'd putting my life on the line. This time, I did. I knew the risks. I knew that there was a good chance that something like this would happen."
"And you did it anyway." It was a statement of fact, not a question.
"I did it anyway."
"Because you have a tender heart, Clark. Don't you see? I wouldn't have wanted you to do anything differently today. Because I know that if you hadn't lent your strength today, it would have eaten you alive, knowing that you could have helped and didn't."
Clark hung his head until his chin rested on his chest. "I know," he said in a near whisper. "But I should have put you and the baby first. I can't just blindly put my life on the line like I did. Not when it's a gamble that I'm almost guaranteed to lose. I didn't even stop to consider what would happen if I died in the rescue effort. I should have. That's what bothers me the most. What kind of man puts his own, selfish needs ahead of his family's?"
"A man with a heart as big as they come," Lois said soothingly. "A man who puts others...all others above himself. A man who will one day be a shining example to his son of what it means to be selfless, giving, and an asset to society."
"If I live that long."
"You will." Clark could hear all of her conviction in those two simple words.
"I hope."
"You will."
Clark smiled at his wife. "You never give up, do you?"
"Never."
"Good," he said with a grin. "Because that's just what I need right about now."
"How about something to drink?" Lois offered as she scanned the room for a cup.
She spied a pink plastic cup and matching pitcher. She stood, arched her back, retrieved the pitcher and cup, and brought it to the bedside table. Clark nodded, so she slipped out the door, only to return minutes later with the pitcher full to the brim with ice chips and water. She poured out a little into the cup, stuck a straw in it, and held it up to Clark's lips. He drank deeply and gratefully. When he was finished, she refilled the cup. He shook his head, done for the moment, so Lois put it down.
"Thank you," he said in a low voice.
"You look exhausted," Lois observed. "Why don't you close your eyes for a little while?"
"What about you?"
"I'll call your parents and let them know what's going on. I've also got my stakeout bag in the trunk of the car, so I might go change into something more comfortable." She stood and wandered toward the door.
"Sounds good," Clark said. "But later, we need to talk about a couple of things, okay?"
"Things?" She stopped and turned back.
"Just some things I want you to know...just in case," Clark said, waving her off. "Go, get yourself comfortable. I'm not going anywhere right now."
"Okay," she relented after a moment of hanging out in the doorframe, looking back at him.
When she was gone, the room seemed to shrink down on Clark like a lonely, oppressive cell.
Or maybe even a grave, he thought with a shudder.
He pulled the blankets up higher, in an effort to make himself feel more comfortable, now that the sunlight was fading as the afternoon wore away into evening. The bed was too stiff and unyielding - he missed the softness of the mattress he and Lois had picked out shortly before they'd been wed. The sounds were too hushed, too sterile - he missed the sounds of their townhouse - the various creaks as the house settled, the crickets in their small patch of lawn, the light chimes of the living room clock, Lois' soft breathing against his neck as they lay together in bed or snuggled on the couch. The smells were too astringent, stinging his sensitive nose, even without trying to employ his powers, and they made his eyes water from time to time - he missed the lavender and rose scents of his home in the various candles and air fresheners that were strewn throughout the place, the sharp and comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee coming from their kitchen, even the acrid smell of whatever Lois had managed to burn for dinner, despite his patient guidance and lessons from Martha whenever she was in town.
Once, long ago, Clark had reveled in silence, often fleeing to the space between the Earth and the stars in order to have some peace and quiet, as much as it had been a refuge for him, a place to get away from life in general and just contemplate how different he was from everyone else. He'd looked forward to those still, stolen moments, away from the hustle and bustle of the world, where even his super hearing couldn't pick up on the cries for help, the sirens of emergency vehicles, and the general chaos of the masses. But now, left alone in a quiet white room, Clark missed the pulse of the city, though he'd been in the hospital not even three full hours.
He dozed fitfully, sliding into sleep only to jerk back into wakefulness each time. He tried to stay awake, but found that impossible as well. It was only when Lois returned that Clark's racing mind finally calmed enough to grant him the rest that he so desperately needed. But in his dreams, he was once again at the scene of the accident. Only this time, when he tried to help, his strength failed him along with his heart, leaving him dying and the kids on the bus dead.
He awoke with a start, a scream in his throat that he had to swallow back down before it could emerge and roll off his lips. Lois was there immediately upon seeing his movement, her warm hand on his brow, pushing back his sweaty hair.
"Hey, it's okay," she whispered in his ear. "I'm here."
Clark took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"Bad dream?" Lois asked.
He nodded, slowly, getting his bearings. Seeing the bland white walls and feeling the monitoring wires on his body brought reality crushing back to him.
"I'm okay," he said after a moment, licking his dry lips.
"More water?"
"Please."
Again, Lois held the cup to his mouth, allowing him to suck down as much water as he wished through the use of the straw. Clark gulped the liquid down, feeling like a man who'd been left out in the desert for too long. He finished the water in record time, then another full cup almost as quickly.
"I talked to your parents," Lois said as Clark drank. "They're working on getting a flight out. They're going to call me when they know more."
"Good," Clark said, leaning tiredly back into the pillows. He adjusted the angle of the bed with the controls on the side rails, sitting up further.
"Jimmy and Perry called to find out how you're doing. I told them you're feeling better than you were, but are being held for observation. It should buy us a little time before they start asking questions. Lucy is stuck in Florida at the moment. Her latest beau maxed out her credit cards and drained her checking account. She's trying to get it all sorted out, but it's going to take some time. She said she hopes you get better soon, and that she's sorry she can't be here now."
They had been forced to divulge a least part of Clark's condition to Lois' sister. Clark hadn't wanted Lois to be stuck trying to explain things to Lucy if and when things went badly. All she knew was that Clark needed a transplant, but they had kept it a secret how hopeless it was that he would receive one.
"Thanks," Clark said, nodding. "Did you talk to your dad too?"
Lois nodded. "He sounded half asleep on the phone. He's been working around the clock on this."
"I know. And I appreciate it. You'll tell him that for me, right? Just in case?"
"I will."
Clark closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again.
"Lois?"
"Yeah?"
"There are some things I wanted to discuss with you. Things I need you to know, just in case the worst happens. I want to believe that Dr. Klein and your father will find a way to save me, but I can't bank on it."
"Clark," Lois said, fear clinging to the edges of her words.
"Lois, we have to be realistic here. I need to make sure that everything is in order. Okay?"
"Okay." One simple word conveyed all of her trust in him.
He nodded in acknowledgement. "First, I guess, if the worst does happen, there are some letters in the back of my sock drawer. For you, for our son, for Perry and Jimmy. Give the envelope for our son to him when he's old enough to understand. Yours is for after I die, if that happens. The ones for Perry and Jimmy - they are an explanation, of everything. Of who I really am, of why I never told them. Don't give them the letters unless they make the connection between me and Superman though. I guess part of me doesn't want to shatter the illusion of the hero for them. But if they do start to make the connection, then give them the letters. I thought it might be best if the explanation came straight from me. That maybe, somehow, it might make them understand better."
"I promise not to give them the letters," Lois assured him.
"On my laptop, you'll find two sketched out articles, CKObit and SMObit. Clark Kent's obituary and Superman's. I didn't want you to have to worry about what to tell people."
"That's a little morbid, Clark," Lois said, trying to joke, trying to hide the fear in her voice.
Clark could hear it lurking there, however. "I didn't write them just for this," he confided. "I wrote them after that incident with the regenerated villains, when Clyde Barrow shot and 'killed' me in front of a roomful of witnesses and I had to play dead until I could find a way to have a miraculous resurrection. I knew that eventually some kind of similar scenario might creep up again, even if it was because my Kryptonian biology kept me alive longer than a normal person, and that I might have to fake my own death. All I did was recently update it to reflect more recent developments in my life, even if someone else needs to fill in the specific details."
He reached out toward Lois' stomach, but she was too far for him to be able to touch her without straining. She scooted closer to him, so that he could comfortably rest his palm above where his son was busy growing.
"And," he added with a smile, "one of those same recent developments needs a name."
Lois laughed, a sound more precious to Clark than any amount of gold, silver, or jewels.
"I guess that's true," she said as her laugh tapered off. "With everything that's been happening, I haven't really thought about it too much."
"But you have thought a little about it."
"Yes."
Clark grinned. "Good."
"I was thinking, even before all of this, about naming the baby Clark, after you."
He shook his head. "I'd rather not. Eventually this little boy will know about his dad's other job. That's going to be hard enough on him, wanting to measure up and all, I'm sure. Add to that a shared name, and this poor kid might have a complex of some sort." He said it in a joking way, though he was serious. He'd been thinking about it ever since they had first started to think about children and Lois had casually mentioned that the world needed another Clark Kent.
"I guess that's a good point," Lois said in a thoughtful manner. "What about Charles?"
"As in Charlie King? My alias at the Metro Club when the Toasters were terrorizing Metropolis?"
Lois shuddered, perhaps at the thought of Toni Taylor. "Michael?"
"I like it," Clark said. "How about Julian?"
Lois made a face.
"Not a fan, I see," Clark laughed. "John?"
"It's kind of plain. Ferguson?"
"God, no!" Clark laughed.
"It was my great uncle's middle name."
"It's nerdy," Clark scoffed.
And so the next few hours passed, as they both offered names. Some were shot down immediately, some wound up on a 'definite' list, some were jotted down on a 'revisit' list. Some names sounded good until they said it aloud a few times, and some had rather unfortunate initials. Throughout the discussion, Clark found that he was enjoying himself immensely, forgetting, for a time, his immediate troubles. And for just a moment, he found that he could almost picture a future in which he lived to see his son born.
They were still laughing over the last name that Lois had suggested when Dr. Klein returned, a newspaper tucked under his arm. Clark's laughter broke off once he realized that his friend was once again in the room.
"Sounds like you two have been having some fun," the doctor said with a smile of approval. "That's good. There's no medicine better than laughter."
"If only it was that easy," Clark said.
Dr. Klein nodded. "If only."
"Any news?" Lois prodded.
The doctor sighed. "Not yet. But we're getting a little closer. The last series of experiments lasted a few minutes instead of seconds when put under a fraction of the stress Clark's body usually experiences on a normal day. I just wish our success, and I use the term lightly, was moving along faster. I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," Clark said. He peered at the paper sticking out from beneath his friend's arm. "Is that the Planet?"
"It is. I thought you might be interested in it." He handed Clark the newspaper. "Check out the front page. But first, let me get a look at your vitals."
Clark nodded and allowed the man to check his heart, his lungs, the amount of urine in the bag attached to his catheter, and the printouts from the assortment of machines that had been monitoring him. Dr. Klein made some notes on the chart hanging from the foot of the bed, mumbling to himself, in such a way that Clark didn't even want to try to decipher the words. Then the man was off again, breezing back out of the room, leaving Lois and Clark both to marvel at his energy level.
It was only in the wake of Dr. Klein's absence that Clark unfolded the paper and shook his head in dismay as he read the headline.
HERO REPORTER ASSISTS AT SCHOOL BUS CRASH; SUPERMAN STILL MYSERTIOUSLY ABSENT
And there, beneath the bold, black ink of the headline, pictures of Clark. In one, he was getting the emergency exit open - Clark knew it had been taken a heartbeat before the door had come off in his hands. In the next picture, Clark was emerging from the destroyed vehicle with a little girl cradled to his chest - the first of the children he'd gotten to safety. He groaned. He'd known, of course, that Jimmy had been at the scene, snapping away with his camera. But he hadn't wanted any kind of recognition for his efforts. Superman was the hero. Clark was the normal and completely unremarkable man.
"Oh boy," he said, handing the paper to Lois so that she too could see.
"I'm sorry, Clark. I should have thought to mention it to Perry that you wouldn't want any recognition for that. But you know, it's not a bad thing, letting people see a 'normal' man lending a hand. Now, perhaps more than ever, we need people to have good examples of their own potential to do good."
"I'm not against that," Clark said with a shrug. "I just never wanted it to be me that provided the example, that's all."
Lois had been sitting on Clark's bed before Dr. Klein had needed to check his vital signs. She had scooted over and out of the way to give the doctor the space he needed. Now, she reclaimed her spot, snuggling up to her husband as much as she could. Clark luxuriated in the closeness, as he always did. It calmed him, made him feel that, for the moment at least, everything was okay, despite the fact that he was in the hospital recovering from a second massive heart attack.
It almost made him forget that he was a ticking time bomb.
He wrapped her in his arms, as best he could with the wires that were attached to him. She put her head on his shoulder and snuggled even closer. He breathed deeply, inhaling the unique scent of her. He desperately wanted to listen to her heartbeat, but was too terrified to attempt even so small a power as his super hearing.
Together, they read the paper, Clark shaking his head at the article centering on the bus crash and the part he'd played in the rescue. Clark was tempted to fashion a response, but didn't quite feel up to it at the moment. Perhaps he would in the morning. They read the Op Ed piece, a plea to Superman to return to the citizens of Metropolis, and indeed, the entire world. That too, Clark felt might warrant a response from the man in blue, but he didn't want to tackle that either just yet. What could he say, anyway?
Beyond the walls of the hospital, the night rolled on. A storm broke, a wild and wet mess of rain, lightning, and thunder so loud that it rattled the glass panes of his window. It barely registered in Clark's mind though. He was focused on his wife. That was all that mattered to him.
"You want to do the crossword puzzle?" he asked around midnight.
"You should be resting, honey," Lois said, running her hand through the front of his hair.
"I will," he said. "Just not yet. I'm finally feeling like I've got a little energy back."
Lois studied him for a long minute before nodding and flipping the pages to get to the crossword puzzle toward the back. Then she got up, rummaged around in her purse, and finally emerged with a pen, holding it aloft victoriously. She tested it on the corner of the page, making a purple scribble where she raked it across the paper. She looked at it in a funny way. Clark knew she must have accidently picked the pen up somewhere. There was no way that professional reporter Lois Lane carried a pen with purple ink in her purse.
After that, she returned to his more than willing embrace. Clark let her take charge of holding the paper and pen. He wasn't in a great position to write down the answers.
"One down," he said as he began to skim the clues. "Reddish color. Six letters. Maroon."
"Making one across matrix," Lois added.
"Nice one," Clark commented, smiling over at her.
"Thanks. You too."
Together, they quickly filled in more answers, each of them acknowledging the other's correct answers with a verbal word of approval, a smile, or a kiss. They were nearing the end, with only seven clues that hadn't been solved, when Clark's next heart attack hit. Panicked, Lois hit the call button to summon help.
Dr. Klein must have been right in the vicinity. Like a ninja, he appeared seemingly out of thin air. He checked Clark's vitals and his face immediately fell. He reached out and smashed the palm of his hand against a small, square red button which was set into the wall, calling a code blue for cardiac arrest.
To Be Continued...
