Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Clark's Heart (7/10)

Previously, on Clark's Heart:



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 he 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.



***



Lois sat alone in the room, processing everything that had happened. Next to her, on the bedside table, the paper and unfinished crossword puzzle lay forgotten. The pen had fallen to the floor and been kicked away by one of several rushing feet. Where it had gone after that, Lois wasn't sure. Perhaps it had spun away and come to rest under the baseboard heating. She didn't know and didn't care.

Looking back, everything had happened so fast. One moment, Clark had been fine. He'd been cuddling her close and laughing.

"Thirty-seven across," he'd announced proudly, kissing the back of her head. "Cantonese."

She'd filled in the squares in question and had been about to turn and place a kiss on his lips when Clark's entire demeanor had changed. She'd known, without a question, exactly what was happening. As Dr. Klein had predicted, Clark had been having another massive heart attack. But this time it was different. He'd lost the ability to speak. He'd been gasping for air, almost clawing at his neck before he'd become completely unresponsive in any way. But it wasn't until Dr. Klein had called a code on Clark that the icy feeling of dread had flooded her body and raced down her spine, chilling her to her very core.

Dazed, she'd tucked herself into the furthest corner of the room, knowing that even half a second where a nurse might have to guide her out of the way could make a difference in the outcome as they'd worked on Clark. Her desire to give Clark his best chance at survival had outshone her desire to be right there next to him, holding his hand until the heart attack was over.

True panic had set in, however, when she heard the monitor that was tracking his heart rate become a steady beeeeep! as Clark had flat-lined.

She vaguely remembered herself crying, tears washing over her mascara and leaving dirty black trails down over her cheeks. She thought she might have screamed. She was certain that a steady stream of "Clark, no! Come back to me," had passed her lips. All she remembered clearly was the stark, paralyzing terror that had gripped her. She hadn't even been aware when Marty, Dr. Klein's nephew, had rushed into the room and gently guided her out into the waiting area, only to disappear once more, telling her that someone would come get her once they knew more about what was going on with Clark.

Dr. Klein had been the one to come to her, what felt like an eternity later. She could tell, just from one quick glance at him, that things were not good. He'd seemed stooped and defeated as he'd made his way to her, looking far older than she'd ever seen him look before. He'd taken the seat next to her in the waiting area but hadn't met her eyes the entire time they'd spoken.

By the end, Lois had had fresh mascara tracks running over her face.

Now she sat in silence, staring blankly across the room. Numb. That was the only word that could adequately describe how she felt. Numb and hollow.

"Lois?" Sam Lane called softly as he gently knocked on the doorframe.

"Huh?" The sound had pulled Lois out of her near trance. It had nearly startled her, but she refused to let that show. "Oh. Daddy."

"And me," Ellen said in a hushed voice as she peeked her head around Sam.

"Mom."

"We came as soon as we heard," Sam said, crossing to kneel at his daughter's side. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know," Lois said honestly, with a resigned shake of her head. "It's like I'm in a nightmare. I keep waiting and wondering when I'll finally wake up to find Clark safe and sound next to me."

"I wish it was," Sam agreed, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do now," Lois confessed. "There's nothing I can do here. There's nothing for me at home."

"First things first. You have to take care of yourself and your baby."

"But Clark..."

"Can wait," Ellen said softly, cutting Lois off. "There's nothing you can do for him."

"There has to be something," Lois insisted. "I can't just leave him here. Not the way he is. Not now."

"Lois," Sam said in a low, gentle tone.

"I can't ," she repeated. "I won't."

"He would want you to take care of yourself and your son," Ellen tried, in an obvious attempt to reason with her daughter.

"I know," Lois sighed, feeling defeated. "But what I know and what I feel are two very different things right now."

Sam nodded sympathetically. "You know that you'll need to make some decisions, and soon."

"I know," she said, barely nodding, still staring blankly ahead, feeling more dead than alive. "I just don't have the heart to do it tonight."

"It's late," Sam replied in a tone of agreement. "And you need to rest."

"Dr. Klein said I can stay here. The armchair pulls out into a bed."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"It's the only idea," Lois said forcefully, wanting the conversation to be over. "I'm not leaving my husband."

Ellen sighed audibly. "You always were a stubborn child. Oh well. What can we do?"

"There's not much to be done. I've already called Clark's parents. They're still working on getting a flight to Metropolis. They said they might be able to get on one of the red-eyes if they fly stand-by." She shook her head, as if it would clear her thoughts. "That was the hardest phone call I've ever had to make in my life. To call my husband's parents and tell them that their son is on life support. Please, Daddy, tell me that you're getting closer to a cure for Clark."

Sam lowered his eyes to study the white and grey flecked tile floor. "I wish I could."

Lois made a half strangled groan that reminded her of a dying cat.

"We're doing everything humanly possible," he tried to reassure her, but to no avail.

"Daddy?" Lois asked suddenly, pulling her gaze from Clark, who lay silent in his bed.

"Yeah, Princess?"

"Do you think...if I talked to Clark...that he could hear me?"

"I like to think so," Sam said, though his slight smile was sad. "I've always thought that patients in comas or on life support could still hear the voices of their friends and family. And I've always thought that it helps them fight, even return, sometimes."

"Thanks," Lois said, managing a half smile for her father.

"Anyway, I should get back to my research," Sam said, straightening up and standing. He rubbed his knees once he was up, as if to work a kink out of them. "Promise me that you'll get some rest?"

"I will," Lois promised.

"I can stay for a while, if you'd like," Ellen offered.

But Lois shook her head. "Thanks, but, for now, I really just want to be alone with Clark."

Ellen smiled sadly. "You always did have to handle things on your own. I guess that's mostly my fault." To her credit, however, she rose from the chair she was sitting on and followed Sam out the door, leaving Lois once more alone.

"Oh, Clark," she sighed.

Finally finding some strength, she pushed one of the hard wooden chairs right up to his bedside. For a long moment, all she did was silently look at him. He'd always been so strong, so imposing, so full of life, so passionate. Even when he'd first arrived at the Planet, and Lois had done everything in her power to get him to leave her alone, she'd noticed those features about him. He'd looked tall and well built - she had seen just how well built when she'd gone to pick him up at his shabby hotel room that first day they'd been on assignment together.

Now though, he seemed like a completely different man. Though he'd only been hooked up to the life support machines that were breathing for him and circulating his blood for him - bypassing his now completely useless heart muscles - for only an hour or two, he already appeared so small and frail to her eyes. His skin tone had become ashen - gone was the normal tanned and rosy glow that seemed to cling to him year round. He seemed shrunken into himself - a shell of the man he usually was. For all of his muscles and well-toned body, he appeared almost childishly small nestled in amongst pillows, blankets, tubing, and wiring.

Lois followed the various wires that led from the numerous contraptions that were strapped to her husband's body to the different machines that were keeping him alive. She already hated those machines, despite the fact that she loved them for keeping Clark with her. She watched the monitors that corresponded with each machine and each bodily function they were currently providing for Clark. Though Dr. Klein had shown her, briefly, what each of the lines and numbers meant, she could only remember a few of them. She felt lost, not knowing if the numbers she was seeing now were good or bad.

No one has rushed in here and no alarms have sounded, she thought to herself. Therefore, everything must be okay. Clark is okay. Except he's not. He needs a miracle and there's nothing I can do to help ensure that he gets one.

"Clark," she said again in a hushed whisper of a voice. "Clark? Can you hear me? Honey, it's me. It's Lois. I'm right here, by your side, just like always."

She nervously touched his hand, afraid to cause damage, as though he were a fragile figurine made of the thinnest glass. The lack of response from him unnerved her. She was just so used to seeing him smile or feel him grab her hand in reply. To have him lay there, motionless and completely unresponsive to her gave her a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"You can fight this, Clark," she told him. "Every day, you fight for those who can't fight for themselves, no matter which suit you're wearing. For years, you fought for us...for me. Now I need you to fight for your life. I know you can. You're the strongest man I know, and I'm not talking about your ability to bench press a rocket. Please, Clark. We're all working as hard and as fast as we can. Give us the time that we need."

The only response was the steady, rhythmic beeping of the machines monitoring his heart and the whooshing of the one that was breathing for him. But that seemed somehow more uncomfortable than if the room had been dead silent. She began to talk again in an effort to fill the void, though she dearly could have used some sleep.

"You have to fight," she repeated. "If not for me, for your son. He needs you Clark. I need you. I can't do this alone. Please, don't leave me. I love you."

She knew Clark felt the same. He'd never even needed to say the words, though he always had. It had always shone through in the way he'd looked at her, the way he'd treated her, the special smile that he reserved only for her. But in that moment, Lois would have killed to hear him tell her that he loved her.

She continued to talk to him, stroking his hand or his cheek as she did so. For a time, she read to him from the newspaper Dr. Klein had left with them earlier. Then she moved on to sharing memories of their life together so far. Some even had her giggling softly as she recalled some of the more absurd things they'd done and seen. But eventually, she succumbed to the need for sleep.

She woke only a few short hours later, scrunched up in a little ball in the armchair where she'd relocated herself once the adrenaline rush had worn off and exhaustion had set in. She hadn't even bothered to pull the chair out into the bed it was capable of becoming. Waking, however, she regretted the decision. She felt stiff and achy in a way that her pregnancy only exacerbated. She felt grubby and in need of a shower and a fresh set of clothing. But to do that, she would need to go home.

"I need to leave for a bit," she told Clark, her stomach growling like a famished beast. "Keep fighting, okay? I love you."

She felt in desperate need of reminding him to keep fighting, and that she loved him, every time she spoke. Perhaps if he heard it enough, it would give him the strength that he so urgently needed. She leaned over his bed and kissed him gently on the forehead, careful to maneuver around and utterly avoid the wires that were attached to him.

"I have to tell Perry and Jimmy," she added in a quiet voice as she stroked his brow. "They need to know. I'll keep them away from the hospital. I know you wouldn't want them to see you like this. Especially if they ever find out the whole truth. I'll be back before you know it. I promise."

She had to leave then, before it became too painful and difficult to leave him. Once she left the room, it was almost as if her mind went to autopilot mode. She barely remembered the drive home, or showering, or dressing in clean clothing. She drove to the Planet, oblivious to all of the normal things that usually angered her as a driver. Walking into the bullpen, she snapped out of her trance-like state just long enough to deliver the crushing news to Perry and Jimmy. She answered their questions as best she could, being as vague as she could about the more specific details, and staving off their offers to hold vigil with her in Clark's room, stating that, for now, the hospital was only permitting immediate family to visit. Then she was back at the hospital, having eaten something somewhere along the lines, though she couldn't remember what she'd had or when she'd eaten it.

"Clark, sweetie, I'm back," she told him as soon as she reentered his room.

She breezed over to his side and kissed his brow again, before immediately checking his vital signs as they appeared on the monitors. Everything looked much the same as before she'd left, only a couple of hours before. Satisfied, she sat down and sipped from her cup of coffee. That had been the hardest thing for her about being pregnant so far - having to cut severely back on the amount of caffeine she ingested every day. But now, she felt, she truly deserved the strong drink.

"I told Perry and Jimmy what's going on," she informed Clark's unconscious form. "They're really upset. Jimmy had tears in his eyes. And Perry...I've never seen him look quite that devastated before, even when we all thought you were dead from that shooting. At least, then, we all knew you'd given your life to save another. What's happening now...it's so much more unfair. Anyway, I managed to hold them off for now. They weren't happy about it, but I think they understand. Your folks should be flying in later today. They said that someone overheard them talking to one of the ticket sellers at the airport while they were waiting on standby. The couple offered to switch with them so that your parents can have a definite flight out, and the couple will wait on standby instead. You see, Clark? You're right. There is so much good in the world, and in all of us. It gives me hope for the future. For the world our baby is going to grow up in."

There was no reply save for the beeping of the life support machines.

"We will figure this out, you know," she continued. "I know we will. I just wish we were coming up with the answer right this second." She sighed and lapsed into a thoughtful silence, though her eyes never left Clark.


***


Days passed, dragging by in the most sluggish and hellish way that Lois had ever experienced in her life. Every hour was a torment for her, having to watch her husband slip further and further from her, while there was literally not a thing she could do about it. She tried to give him a firm handhold to life, talking to him, reading to him, even singing from time to time in a low voice - songs she knew or thought he would like. Much of the time, Jonathan and Martha sat vigil with her, and though she wanted to be alone, she could not deny that their presence gave her strength. It had been so difficult, however, being there when they had arrived at the hospital, coming straight from the airport, dragging their luggage with them. When Martha's tears had begun to flow, it was all Lois could do to hug the older woman and cry with her.

Whenever Ellen could spare a moment away from helping Sam, she would stop by as well, oftentimes bringing food, knowing that Lois would need the fuel, knowing that it pained her daughter deeply each time she had to leave Clark's room. For once, Lois could find no fault with her mother's presence, except for her refusal to bring coffee, even though Lois had assured her that no harm would come to her son from a small amount each day.

Sam, on the other hand, was a virtual ghost during those days and nights. He practically lived at S.T.A.R. Labs. Lois knew he only ever left the building to sleep and shower, and that if the lab had had the facilities for him to do so there, he never would have left at all. He did stop by a couple of times before heading into the lab for the day, offering what halting words of comfort he could, but never able to bring any kind of good news to her. Lucy called each day, still stuck out of state while she tried to restore her bank accounts and testified against her latest ex-boyfriend. But Lois was thankful for each phone call. Though much of the talk centered on Clark, the rest of the conversations helped her forget for a moment her hellish reality.

"Honey, we really should talk about our options," Sam said late one afternoon after the newest experiment had failed.

"Options?" Lois had repeated, though she knew what he father meant.

"I think you know what I mean," he said.

Lois nodded her affirmation. "There's nothing to discuss."

"Lois, you know this is just a temporary fix," Sam said, stating fact, not asking any questions. "He can't stay on this forever." He gestured toward the life support machines.

"I know that," Lois said. "But I'm not giving up on him. He would never give up on me, if the situation were reversed."

"It's not the same, Lois," Sam replied in a kind voice. "His body is completely different than yours or mine. I can't be sure that these machines won't do more harm than good in the long run, even if I could come up with some way to save his life."

"At least they're giving him a chance," she argued.

"Do you really think that's a possibility?" Martha asked, alarmed.

Sam sighed and rubbed his bloodshot and drooping eyes. "I don't know for sure. But anything's possible. We have nothing to go on. No previous cases to help us base our treatment off of. So far, it looks like Clark's holding steady. But it's been three weeks."

"So?" Lois argued. "That's hardly any time at all. Don't people go months or years on these things?"

"Lois..."

"Please, Daddy. Give us more time."

"I'm not telling you to make a decision now. All I'm saying is that you all should probably start thinking about the future, and what you might want to do."

"I won't give up. He wouldn't want me to. I promised him I wouldn't."

"You also have to think about what he would want for himself, Lois. Would he really want to spend the rest of his life hooked up to machines? I'm not saying that I know the answer to that. You and his parents know him better than anyone."

"I can't make the decision to end my husband's life," Lois said, teary eyed.

"That's why you all need to discuss this," Sam said gently. "In the meantime, I promise I'll keep working on a cure. But, the truth is, Bernie and I have already exhausted every option and out-of-the-box idea possible. And every in-the-box one. There simply isn't a box anymore, that's how extensive our experiments have been. I'm sorry. I wish I had better news."

"I know. And I appreciate it, Daddy."

She couldn't force herself to speak further until her father had left the room again. Even then, it was Jonathan who dared to broach the fragile silence of the room.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted, sounding miserable as he stared at his hands.

"We fight," Lois said.

"Normally, I'd agree," Jonathan replied. "But given the circumstances, I'm not sure this is a fight we can win."

"Lois is right. We can't give up now," Martha said, sounding surprisingly calm, as she often seemed to be during a crisis.

"No. Not now," Jonathan said. "But, if the worst comes, we need to know at what point we..." The words seemed stuck in his throat. He cleared it quietly and tried again. "We let Clark pass with what dignity he has left."

"I never thought it would come to this," Martha lamented. "I always accepted the dangers Clark faced, ever since he decided to become Superman. But this? It still feels unreal."

Lois put her arm around her mother-in-law. "I know. Clark said something similar to me before things got really bad."

"He's always been so strong," Martha said, shaking her head.

"He still is," Jonathan put in. "He's still with us, right now."

"Right now," Lois agreed. "Right now we defend him like he's always done for everyone else. We give Daddy and Dr. Klein more time."


***


"Hi, Clark," Lois said as she came to his bedside. Two weeks had passed since Sam had tried talking to her about taking Clark off life support. Two weeks where she had wondered if she was doing the wrong thing and only prolonging Clark's suffering, but knowing that she couldn't give up on him. "I know, I know. It's early. I couldn't sleep. It's getting so hard to find a comfortable position in bed. And our son must have been throwing a rave last night. Plus, I just haven't slept all that well since you were admitted to the hospital. I miss having you in bed next to me." She smoothed his hair and kissed his forehead. "Your parents are here too. They haven't been sleeping well either. They're loading up on snacks and drinks for us downstairs in the cafeteria. Truth be told though, I'm worried about them, Clark. They're trying to stay strong and put on a brave face, but I can see how much they're hurting. Now I see where you got it from," she mused. "I mean, I think I always knew it, but lately, I can't help but to see just where you got a lot of your personality from."

"Lois?" Jonathan called softly.

"Yeah," she called back, in just as light of a voice. "That was fast."

"Not many people there at this hour," the older man replied, coming in and sitting down in a chair. "Here's your breakfast."

"Thanks."

Lois took the proffered bacon, egg, and cheese bagel and took a bite. She deemed it passable. Clearly Todd wasn't the one cooking today. She thought it might have been Doug, whose culinary skills ranked only slightly higher than her own.

This is sad, she thought to herself. I've spent so much time in this place, and eaten so many meals here, that I can figure out who's working today based on the way the food tastes.

The three remained silent, each one letting their own thoughts keep them company as they ate. Lois wondered how it was that she could even still taste her food. Nothing had seemed to be the same since Clark had been hooked up to the life support machines. Colors had seemed to be more muted. Smells weren't as strong. Food tasted blander in general. Even her enthusiasm for decorating the nursery and buying things for their son had lost its steam. Life itself had lost its appeal for her.

"Clark, honey, it's Mom," Martha said after a while, breaking the quiet of the room.

Even after all of this time, Lois could see how ill at ease Clark's parents were, talking to their completely unresponsive and barely alive son. She gave them immense credit, however, for doing it for hours on end every single day since they'd arrived in Metropolis. Mentally exhausted already, she sat back and allowed Martha to be the one to talk to Clark.

"I picked up that book you've been waiting for since Christmas," she informed him. "It's big. Twelve hundred pages, I think. I started reading it last night. I hope you don't mind. It seemed like it's pretty good so far. You'd like it."

"The farm is doing well this summer," Jonathan put in when Martha's voice trailed off. "The hired hands say they expect to see a harvest like we haven't seen in, oh, fifteen years or so. It certainly makes up for last year's harvest after all that drought."

"You'd like the strawberries," Martha added. "They've been so big and juicy this year. I'm not sure I've had better."

"Jimmy has a new girlfriend," Lois said when once more, silence blanketed the room in a suffocating way. "Kelly's her name. She's cute. Probably one of the more mature girls I've seen him date, even though she's fresh out of college. I think she could be good for him." She paused a moment. "He misses you, you know. He had an extra ticket for a baseball game the other night when Kelly was working and I could tell from the way he kept looking at your desk that he would have given anything to be able to bring you along."

For a long while, the three spoke to each other and to Clark, including him in their conversation as a silent fourth participant. Everything from gossip about old friends, the weather, and what was going on in the news was covered, but not once did Clark show any response.

Around four in the afternoon, Jonathan ducked out for a time, needing to check in with the hired help that was maintaining the farm for them while they'd been in Metropolis. Only once had they gone back home, and that was only because one of the pipes in the house had given out due to age and had needed to be repaired. The basement, where it had flooded, had needed to be cleaned and all of the items down there sorted through to see what had been damaged beyond saving and what could be salvaged.

He'd only been gone a few minutes when Lois started to feel odd. It was almost like her stomach was tightening up, then relaxing, only to randomly tighten again. Realization slowly dawned on her as she sat soundlessly. Martha saw that something was wrong and grabbed Lois' hands in her own.

"Lois? What's wrong?"

"I don't feel right," she'd managed to say. "I can't be sure, but I think...I might be having contractions. But it's too early. He can't be born yet. It's still too early." Fear leapt, unbidden, into her voice.

"It's okay," Martha had said, taking charge of the situation. "We're in the best possible place for you," she tried to joke, making light of things to put Lois at ease. "We're already at the hospital. We'll just get you over to the maternity ward and get you checked out. It's probably just false labor, but we'll have someone take a look at you just to be sure, okay?"

"Okay," Lois said, too afraid that it might be preterm labor to argue that she wanted to be with Clark.


***


Two hours later, Lois and her child were declared to be the very picture of health. Scans of the baby and Lois' uterus showed that everything was normal, and that her contractions were, indeed, just false labor. To be sure that the baby was not in any distress, the nurses had hooked Lois up to a fetal monitor and had watched the baby's heartbeat naturally rise and fall as he twisted and squirmed within her, or settled down for a moment to rest.

For close to an hour, Lois had been confined to a bed, all the while missing her husband. She was so sure that Clark would have loved to be at her side while their son was being checked. She could picture the fascination in his eyes as he would have watched the print-out from the machine, showing rises and dips in both her contractions and their son's heart rate. Martha had stayed by her side in Clark's place, and though Lois was grateful for the support, it hadn't been the same. Even Jonathan had come to show his support, though he'd been content to wait for the women in the waiting area and skim through a magazine.

At long last, however, Lois was free to go. As fast as she could, and despite the doctor's orders to take it easy, she'd rushed through Metropolis General, making a beeline for Clark's room. She arrived somewhat breathless and paused outside of his room, catching her breath.

It sure is hard to move fast these days, she mused, rubbing her nearly seven months pregnant belly.

Then she plunged into Clark's room, only to stop short a second or two after she entered. Everything was exactly where she'd left things. Except for Clark.

Clark was missing.


To Be Continued...