Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Lois & Clark Fanfic Wrong Clark (222/???)

Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Clark TOC can be found Here

When we last saw Lois and Clark in Part 221, they were hanging out in Georgie Hair-Do’s speakeasy…

Dillinger moved down the stairs towards Lois, waving the tip of his gun at her. “How about we name this cutie as our hostess?” he called back to Capone.

“Thanks, but no. I have a job,” Lois returned, holding Clark back with her hand.

Dillinger took hold of her arm. “Quit. You’re just the kind of angel we need around here.”

“Gee, that’s an honor I can’t wait to refuse,” Lois retorted.

Dillinger’s grip tightened on Lois’s arm as he scowled.

Clark knocked the gangster’s hand away, causing Dillinger to push Lois to the floor before her knee could make contact with the gangster’s crotch. Clark, then, stepped between them. “The lady said ‘no’.”

“Clark, no!” Lois screamed, taking hold of his leg.

Clyde leveled his pistol at Clark and fired two shots directly into his chest. “That should stop you from trying to steal our dames!”

Clark sputtered and grabbed his chest, falling to the ground next to Lois. She took his hand in hers. He gasped for breath, playing the dying man to the hilt.

“Clyde, you moron!” Capone snapped. “What did you do that for? Those were our only green bullets. Our contact said that was the one thing that will stop the Man in Blue, and you’ve wasted them on this sap.”

Lois’s eyes widened as she hugged his head to her chest. “Oh no!”

Clark squeezed her hand and whispered, “I’ll never argue with you again.”

The vest! Thank God, the bullets hadn’t penetrated his skin, but since manufacturers stopped using lead for the lighter weight Kevlar, the Kryptonite bullets could still kill him if they didn’t get him out of that vest as soon as possible.

“Let’s get outta here,” roared Capone. “And take the soon-to-be stiff with you. I can’t afford to be linked to a murder.”

Lois wrapped her arms around Clark’s torso. “No!” she screamed. “You can’t have him!” The thugs tried to drag her from her partner, but she only yelled louder and held on more tightly, “Noooooooooooo!”

Dillinger called from the entrance. “I’m okay if you bring the broad along for the ride.”

“Let me go,” Clark murmured through white lips. “I can’t save you.”

Therefore, it was up to her to save him. She pressed her mouth to his in a quick kiss. “I’ll find you!”

Clark nodded briefly before his eyes fluttered closed.

Tears trickled down her cheeks. “Clark? No! Clark?” She grabbed his jacket and shook him, screaming, “Clark!”

He didn’t respond.

Someone from behind Lois grabbed her waist and pulled her from Clark’s inert body. Lois kicked, screamed, and fought her would-be helper, but by the time she got away, Clark and the gangsters had already disappeared through the speakeasy’s door.

“Clark?!” Lois called from the doorway, but the only answer she heard in return was the screech of tires departing into the darkness and the blare of police sirens approaching.

***

Part 222

Lois paced back and forth in front of the entrance to the speakeasy. However, Detective Wolfe still barred the door.

“Do you need me to call someone to escort you home, Ms. Lane?” Detective Wolfe asked. “Or shall I call a black and white to take you?”

“No, I just need to go. Clark is out there, who knows where?” she said, flinging her arm towards the door. “I’ve given you my statement. Now, let me leave! I’ve got to find him!”

“We have officers searching for his body as we…”

“He’s not dead!” she reiterated for what felt as if the six-hundredth time.

“Ms. Lane,” Wolfe said calmly, resting a hand on her arm, which she shook off. “The other witnesses saw Clyde Barrow shoot Mr. Kent twice in the chest. More than one person said that he was unresponsive when Capone and his men dragged his body out of here.”

“Stop calling Clark a body!”

Wolfe rubbed a weary hand over his face. He glanced down at his notes once more. “Do you know anything about these green bullets that Capone mentioned he had bought to use on Superman?”

Lois stiffened. “He didn’t say they were for Superman. He said the ‘Man in Blue’. He could have been referring to the Chief of Police for all we know. As a cop, you should know not to jump to any conclusions without corroborating evidence.”

Wolfe pressed his lips together in annoyance. “Let’s just suppose that Capone meant Superman. Would you know, as an expert on Superman, what substance they could have been made out of and whether they would be harmful to humans?”

Was Detective Wolfe the Metropolis Star’s new beat reporter?

“A bullet is a bullet, no matter what it’s made out of and so, of course, it would be harmful to Clark, especially if it pierced his bulletproof vest,” she said. “That’s why I need to go find him.” She grabbed Wolfe’s arm to look at his watch. She dropped it just as quickly. “Argh! Clark’s been out there for an hour, Wolfe. I need to go.”

“Do you know where Capone might have dumped Kent’s…?” Wolfe asked. “Uh… Kent?”

“Let’s hope not in the Bay.” She glared at him, indicating the door. “Now, if you don’t mind…”

“It’s not safe to hunt down these gangsters on your own, Ms. Lane. You should leave it to the professionals,” Wolfe suggested.

“I’ll do that,” Lois said, storming past him and out onto the sidewalk.

As Wolfe had said, she was an expert on Superman; therefore, there was no one better than herself for finding Clark.

Lois flagged down a cab and jumped in before Wolfe or another member of Metropolis’s finest could stop her. “1058 Carter Avenue,” she told the driver.

She hoped she wouldn’t be too late.

***

With a groan and cough, Clark awoke in darkness to a terrible stench. Both his head and shoulder ached on top of the constant burning sensation from the Kryptonite. Trying to flip himself over, Clark only managed to push his face out of the garbage before his arms gave out.

He had no idea how long he had been lying in the pile of trash bags Capone’s men had dumped him in when they rolled him out the door of their getaway car. On the bright side, it had been a softer landing than it would’ve been had he struck a wall.

Thank goodness for the Metropolis trash collectors’ yearly strike.

He winced as the cool night air kissed his cheek. It stung, meaning that the pavement had also scraped his cheek. The constant burning pain in his chest, Clark convinced himself, he could almost endure if he didn’t take too deep a breath, but he really hated losing his invulnerability and all of his strength. With shaking elbows, he was able to shift his position enough to let gravity flop him onto his back.

Clark exhaled with relief, only to have it feel as if he had breathed out glass shards instead.

Again, he forced himself to search for the positive aspects of his predicament. Facing upwards, it wasn’t so dark. He wasn’t Capone’s captive anymore, so he wouldn’t be used for shooting practice. As far as Capone knew, Clark was dead. If it hadn’t been for Lois, he would be dead right now. All of him dead and not just one side of him.

Lois probably thought he was dead.

He needed to live to prove her wrong.

All the streetlamps on this block had been busted, so he couldn’t read any street signs, if there were any to read. He had no idea where in Metropolis he was, mostly because this wasn’t the angle from which he usually looked at the city.

Stay positive, he reminded himself. First things first, he needed to get rid of the vest.

With shaking hands, Clark tried to unbutton and then tear his shirt off to no avail. He was able to loosen his tie though, which helped him feel less as if he had a noose around his neck.

As the weight on his chest made it harder and harder to breathe, Clark once again tried to remove his shirt. This time, one of his fingers found a bullet hole in his shirt and was able to tear it open further. A sharp pain jetted up his finger as if someone had stuck a blade under his fingernail and attempted to flick it away. When the attempt to remove his nail failed, the metaphorical blade rocked back and forth slicing the tender flesh instead.

At least, the shirt was now in shreds.

Clark removed his finger from the hole in the vest and shook it in the air, as if that movement would do any good. It did not. He had seen Lois, Jimmy, and others make that move when trying to remove the sting of a paper cut and wondered if he was doing it wrong.

To take off his shirt completely, Clark would need to remove his jacket. Problem was, though, that the fall on the pavement had aggravated his old shoulder injury, from when Luthor had dropped Superman down into his basement wine cellar. An injury that only seemed healed when Kryptonite wasn’t around.

Perhaps with the front of his shirt torn partially away, he could access the Velcro tabs that were keeping the Kryptonite… er… bulletproof vest so tight against his chest.

He just needed to catch his breath first. Only, he couldn’t breathe.

The moon peered out from behind some clouds, illuminating the neighborhood slightly and reflecting ever so little sunlight in his direction. He knew it wasn’t direct sunlight, which was optimal for his healing but this wasn’t the time to nitpick. With a rush of exertion, he pulled loose one of the tabs and then screamed in agony from the effort.

Only two more tabs to go.

On the right side.

He lay in the moonlight for another minute before trying again.

This time his scream was twice as loud because he was able to pull more air into his lungs.

He wondered for a minute, panting to catch his breath, if anyone would investigate his screams or call it in to the MPD. Another glance around the darkened neighborhood told him ‘no’. He was on his own until he could somehow get this vest off or Lois rescued him.

Clark felt around the trash pile and found a stack of newspapers. His eyes watered from the smell of bird droppings.

“Lois,” he murmured through his chapped lips. Her name gave him strength.

Folding the newspapers in half, he slipped them between his uniform and the vest. It caught once on the edge of his crest before he could push it the rest of the way in.

While not lead, the extra layers between the Kryptonite bullets and Clark’s chest enabled him to breathe easier. The burning sensation eased a bit.

He collapsed onto the trash pile again, staring up at the full moon until the clouds drifted over it again. Then, he forced himself to a seated position. All this exertion caused him to sweat and, combined with the dampness of the trash, had made him wet. Now, the breeze that had stung his cheek earlier returned, rustling debris in the street.

Clark began to shiver. He didn’t want to pull his jacket closer around himself in case that caused the Kryptonite to press against his chest. He tried to put his hands in his armpits to warm them but that only shot streaks of agony up his arms and through his chest. Therefore, he stuck his hands into his jacket pockets instead.

In one pocket, his hand brushed against something hard and plastic.

Lois’s mobile phone!

Thank goodness for her little evening purse.

Clark flipped open the phone and, staring at the time, tried to recall when they had arrived at the club so that he could calculate the amount of time which had passed since he had been shot. His brain felt thick as pea soup fog. Finally, he decided that it didn’t matter. He would work it out later.

He dialed the first number that jumped into his head. The number he dialed every night for all those nights after Lois had been shot, so that he could say goodnight and she could sing him to sleep. Then he hung up before it rang once. Lois wouldn’t be at home. She would’ve gone to the Daily Planet. He dialed her direct number there, instead; it rang four times before her voice mail answered.

“Lois,” he said, after the beep. “I’m alive. Call me.” He hung up, and then berated himself for not leaving a better message. “Of course, she went home. She’d want her car.” He dialed her home number again.

Her answering machine picked up after eight rings.

“Lois, it’s Clark. I’m okay… well, not okay, but… still alive. The bullets didn’t… penetrate my vest.” He was amazed how quickly he was winded from that short speech. “Come… and get me. I’m at…” Looking around, he tried to find his bearings. “The corner of Squalor and Ruin apparently… sitting in a pile of trash.” He tried to focus his eyesight, but it was dark and he was no better than human. “I’ll find the right address… while I…” He inadvertently groaned. “— wait for your call.” He went to hang up the phone, but stopped, returning the phone to his ear. “Thank you, minha… I love you.”

***

Lois pushed open the front door to her apartment, glad that she hadn’t depended on Clark’s keys to let her back in tonight. She knew he could be called away at a moment’s notice and that she had to be prepared to get herself home. That meant she needed to carry – bare minimum – in her micro-purse: her own keys, a twenty-dollar bill, and her credit card, in case she had to pay for something more than just a cab ride home.

Only, she hadn’t expected Clark to be dragged away in such a manner. The stupid optimist in her had hoped that her change in dress color would’ve been enough to stop Clyde from shooting Clark. She should have known better than to trust her inner optimist. How many times in her life had it steered her wrong?

Hopping on one foot as she pulled off her left shoe, she elbowed her door closed as she stole a glance over at her answering machine. It was blinking.

Damn it, Wolfe! She knew he had dragged his heels.

Hobbling over to the phone with one shoe off and one on, she played the message. After it finished, she released a pent-up sigh of relief. She picked up her handset and called her mobile phone.

“Lois?” Clark whispered, full of hope.

“The one and only.”

“Thank God!” he said, before coughing.

“Clark? Are you okay?”

“Fine. Fine,” he lied. “It’s just… cold night’s air.”

“Where are you?” she asked, shivering herself with the thought that the cold was bothering him. “I’m not familiar with Squalor and Ruin Streets.”

He paused before answering. “Just a joke, Lois. Never… How about Abel and Market?”

She whistled. “Way down there?”

“That’s what is written on the street signs.”

“I didn’t realize that they crossed. It doesn’t… Were you able to get the vest off?” she asked, lifting up her left foot and putting her shoe back on.

“Just come, minha, please,” Clark replied.

“On my way!” Lois said, hanging up and running back out her front door. She was in such a rush she only turned two of her five locks.

***

Lois pulled her Jeep Cherokee up next to the pile of trash and ran to the man leaning against the building on the corner. He looked more like a dead body with his extremities sprawled out than her partner. Only the twitching and soft moaning gave him away. Lying next to him on the ground was his red tie. From her car, it had looked like blood.

“Up!” she yelled, reaching out and grabbing his hand. It was cold as steel on a chilly autumn’s day.

Clark blinked his eyes, looking at her as if he didn’t see her.

She tugged on his arm several times before she was finally able to pull him to his feet. He wobbled a bit, but she moved behind him and jerked his jacket off. What remained of his shirt fell to the street.

He screamed as if she had taken his arm with it.

“Suck it up,” she said, shoving him towards the car. She opened the passenger side door and pushed him to sit down. Then with a few swift moves, she unfastened the vest. A pile of stinky newspapers fell to the pavement and she dropped the vest on top on them. Lifting Clark’s legs at his knees, she moved him fully inside the car before tossing his jacket at him and shutting the door.

Lois opened the trunk of her Jeep, accessing the hidden storage panel and burying the bulletproof vest inside. Pulling a blanket and sweatshirt out of a duffle she kept in the back, she closed the hatch. She jumped into her driver’s seat, having left her door open, and flung the items at her partner. Sticking her keys in the ignition, she turned the Jeep on and shifted the already blaring heat vents to blow all in the front passenger’s direction.

Finally, Lois gave herself a second to look at Clark, really take in his appearance. He had a jagged scrape across his cheek that reminded her of a rug burn. She could hear his teeth chattering but the color was starting to return to his face as he pulled the hooded sweatshirt over his head and down to cover the top of his blue uniform. He had wrapped his jacket around his legs while she was putting the vest in the trunk. He now pulled it on as well, covering his legs with the blanket. As soon as he finished, Lois reached across him and buckled his seatbelt.

Checking for on-coming traffic that she knew wasn’t there, she then pulled back onto the dark street.

Clark cleared his throat and murmured a soft “Thanks” several blocks later.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, swerving around a cab.

Another block passed. “That hurt,” he said.

She slammed to a hard stop at a sudden red light. “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words only make me stronger,” she returned, glancing over at him.

In the dimness of the streetlight, she could see his brow crinkle. “Um… No. Pulling off my jacket…earlier… my shoulder…”

“You’ll heal,” she reminded him.

“Yes, I will… but it still hurt. A lot.”

She rolled her eyes to focus on the road again, pressing the gas pedal. “Do you want the vest back on?”

“No!”

“Well, then.” She shrugged.

He was quiet for another minute.

Lois couldn’t stand the silence. “If someone was on fire, you’d pull off the burning jacket quickly, even though in doing so, you might cause them some pain, wouldn’t you?”

“No. I’d probably use my cooling breath to extinguish the…”

She shot him a glare. “You, Clark Kent, wouldn’t huff and puff and put out the fire, if someone walked into the newsroom and was suddenly a burst of flame, now would you?”

“No, I’d probably grab a fire extinguisher…”

“You always have to be right, don’t you?” she grumbled.

“Pardon?”

“You’ve heard the saying that it’s better to pull off a bandage quickly, as opposed to slowly, right?”

He nodded slowly, almost unsurely.

“Same principle. If I had gently removed your jacket, we could still be standing there, out in the cold. You’d still have Kryptonite pressing against your chest, instead of seven feet behind you in a locked box,” she explained with a flip of her hand towards the trunk. “Pulling off your jacket quickly meant I could get the Kryptonite away from you faster. Even though it hurt more in the moment, it’ll be less painful in the long run.”

“Oh.” He lifted his hands to the vents. “Thanks, Lois.”

“No problem.”

His left hand moved and covered her right one, gripping the steering wheel. “No. Thank you.”

Lois slammed on the brakes again. Her eyes began to blur with unshed tears. “You could’ve died!”

“I know.”

“You almost did!”

“I know.”

She ran the back of her hand across her face, wiping away the moisture, so she could see, before turning to glare at him. “You’re not allowed to die!”

He nodded with understanding. “Okay.”

She glanced at the traffic light and saw that it was green. She shifted her foot to the gas pedal and floored it. “You are my life, Clark, and if you die, I’m gonna freaking kill you!”

He let go of her hand, raising his fist to his mouth to cover a cough.

“What was that?” she roared, stomping on the brake again.

Clark pointed out the front window. “Car.”

“Yeah, yeah. I saw it. I braked, didn’t I?” Her fingers tapped against the steering wheel impatiently as she waited for the idiot in front of her to start moving again. “Don’t do that again!”

“That’s what us bulletproof vests do, Lois, save lives.”

“Not funny!” she said. “You could’ve died!”

“We covered that.”

She pressed her lips together.

He set his hand back on top of hers again. “You’re my life, minha, and nothing you say or do will ever stop me from coming to your aid.”

“Well, if the bad guy has Kryptonite could you just not?”

“How was I supposed to know Capone had gotten hold of Kryptonite bullets?” he retorted. “Do you think I enjoy being shot?”

She scowled. Was this moron ever going to start moving again? She looked over her shoulder at her blind spot and started to pull around him. “Of course not. Nobody does!”

“And, no, Lois, I won’t.”

“Won’t what?” she asked as she pulled back into her original lane and turned right at the next corner.

“I won’t let Kryptonite stop me from coming to your aid. You’re too important.”

“More important than Superman?” she scoffed, although she could see his reasoning.

“Without you there wouldn’t be a Superman. There’d just be a big pile of gelatin.”

“Stop it!”

“Stop what?” he asked.

“Making me love you more than I did before.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

He shrugged. “No, I’m not.”

“I’m mad and I’m angry and I want to yell and scream at you for almost dying and leaving me alone,” she said, wiping a hand across her eyes again.

“Got it. I won’t die, if you won’t.”

“Deal!”

He snuggled back under the blanket, and she could’ve sworn he was grinning. She could wipe that smart aleck expression off his face, except that this probably wasn’t the correct time to tell him that she was going to strip that Suit off him when they got to his apartment.

***

Clark leaned against Lois like a crutch coming up the stairs to his apartment. He wasn’t sure why Lois brought him here instead of her apartment, being that her place had an elevator and a parking garage, and his didn’t. He guessed she hadn’t thought that far ahead.

They reached his apartment door and he rested his head against it, too tired to move. It felt better having the Kryptonite all those flights of stairs away from him and in Lois’s car; strangely, even better than it had been having the vest removed from his chest. It could’ve just been psychological. Either way, Lois said that she would dispose of it in the morning.

He felt something move in his pants pocket and realized that Lois had slipped her hand inside to remove his keys. He really needed to get her a set of his keys. She knew his secret, and he had a copy of her apartment keys. It was only fair.

“Keep ‘em,” he mumbled after she had unlocked his door and moved to return the keys to his pocket.

“I don’t really want keys to your locker at work, Clark,” she returned, pushing open the door and setting his keys just inside on the table beside the door.

That made sense. She really only needed a copy of his apartment key, not every key on his ring. In fact, her keys were on that ring, too.

“If I ever want to come in when you’re not home, I’ll just pick the lock.”

“How reassuring,” he mumbled, setting his hand on the handrail leading down into his living room. His couch looked so comfy and inviting.

“Oh, no!” Lois said, steering him past his couch and into his bedroom. “You’re getting undressed. Jacket first.”

He tripped and landed face down on his bed. Graceful, he wasn’t.

Lois sat down on his butt and grabbed his cuffs, yanking off his sports coat. It didn’t hurt as much as last time but it wasn’t exactly pain-free either.

He wouldn’t have the energy to resist her if she made a move on him, but he didn’t want their first time… his first time with her… the first time that he could recall in the morning… like this. Not to mention, what he really didn’t want to mention… He pushed himself over in order to explain that he was much too tired, but Lois wasn’t there. He heard her in his bathroom.

“I don’t know what you were rolling around in out there, but you reek,” she called. “A nice hot shower will do you good.”

Clark blushed to the point of his cheeks stinging from the heat that his mind had jumped to physical intimacy instead of the obvious. Even if he had somehow been able to convince her that his sex phobia had more to do with him hurting her with his Super strength than some curse she hadn’t yet heard about, which was patently inaccurate, Lois wouldn’t take advantage of him.

Then, again, she might want ‘I’m happy you’re alive’ sex. And who knew when his powers would return? Clark guessed it would be sometime after sun-up.

He hoped it would be by dawn, more precisely.

He had only been exposed to the Kryptonite for just over an hour and a half, not the multiple days he suffered during the incident with the Kryptonite cage. Still… every time seemed to affect him differently.

Clark didn’t know why he couldn’t get his mind off sex. It wasn’t as if they were going to do anything that night. He was too tired (and terrified of opening Pandora’s box). She just wanted to hose him off because he stunk.

Still… he was ecstatic to be alive and to have Lois taking care of him.

She walked out of the bathroom, wearing his robe and carrying her black dress. She hung the dress on a hanger and placed it in his wardrobe. She turned to look at him and crossed her arms. “You haven’t started getting undressed.”

Guilty as charged.

Clark tried to pull himself up into a sitting position, and a second later Lois was at his side, pushing him back down on the bed to lie down.

He could just picture her crawling on top of him and sitting on his lap as the robe fell open. She then would lift his hand up to her chest. He could just feel her warmth. She’d arch her back and moan. Next, he would raise his other hand to her chest. The heat seemed to pour off her and into him. His hands would slide down her waist and cup her…

What the devil was he thinking?

“Here. Let me,” the real Lois said, lifting up his foot and removing his shoe. She repeated the process with his other foot. “There!”

He realized only seconds had passed; yet, his fantasy… was clearly just a fantasy.

She grabbed hold of his belt, unfastened it, and removed it from his pants. Then she unzipped his pants.

For reality, it wasn’t half bad.

“Hips up,” she commanded, and pulled his pants down to his thighs when he complied. She returned down to his feet and started working his pants off from there. “Okay, sweatshirt next.”

Clark merely stared at her.

“Sit up!” she said, and then mimicked raising her hands.

He nodded in understanding, complying and then lifting his arms.

She grabbed hold of the bottom of his sweatshirt and pulled it up and over his head. It only got stuck once.

Sitting down next to him, she exhaled. “Is this as exhausting for you as it is for me, Superman?”

He glanced down at his blue Suit. She had only taken off his outer – Clark Kent – layer. He swallowed.

“Maybe I should…” he started. “—um… get the rest.”

Lois scooted back on the bed and crossed her arms again, waiting. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Never had he been so glad that his red cape was still compressed in the inside pocket of his pants. He only had to deal with taking off his body suit.

The phone rang, and he watched as Lois crawled over the bed to retrieve the handset he kept there.

“Hello?” she said. “Oh…Oh!...What?...They shouldn’t have. I’m so sorry…No, no. He’s fine… Sure; he’s right here.” She rolled over and held out the phone. “It’s Jonathan.”

“Kent?” he asked.

“Do you know another?”

He took the phone. “Hello? Is everything all right?”

“That’s why we telephoned,” Jonathan Kent said. “Someone from the Planet called and said that you’d been shot. Apparently, we’re listed as your folks on your application.”

Clark focused his gaze onto Lois and covered the handset. “They’re listed as my next of kin?”

“I might have gone a tad overboard on your whole Clark Kent back story,” she said with chagrin.

He stared at her.

Lois Lane.

At the time that he had received that letter from the DMV in the mail, after losing his wallet in Hob’s Bay, he had genuinely thought that she would’ve been the last person on Earth to cement his past in this dimension. He should’ve known better.

“Jerome?”

“I’m here,” he said to Jonathan. “I’m fine. Well, not fine fine.” He took a deep breath, unwilling to take his eyes off his amazing partner, but knowing she was distracting him from the phone. He tried to focus his mind on the call. “Some clones of some long-dead gangsters somehow got their hands on some Kryptonite bullets and shot me.”

“What?” Jonathan gasped.

“It’s a long story. Thankfully, Lois foresaw it and made me wear a bulletproof vest.” He smiled at Lois, loving her more.

“Thank goodness!” Jonathan agreed. Clark could hear him speaking to Martha and repeating Clark’s abbreviated tale to her.

“Lois found me and is taking good care of me,” Clark went on, patting her leg. “But, unfortunately, I’m grounded for the time being.”

“Do you think you’ll be mobile again by the end of the month?” Jonathan asked. “We’d love to have you and Lois come visit for Christmas.”

Clark’s eyes clouded with these words. Christmas with the Kents sounded perfect. “We’d love…”

“You might want to clear it with Lois first,” Jonathan warned softly, under his breath.

“— to come to Smallville for Christmas,” Clark continued, and then added, “— but let me check our schedules first and see if we can get away. Can I call you early next week and let you know?”

“Sure. Sure. Oh, and Jerome?”

“Yea?”

“Martha and I would be honored to be your next of kin. Thanks for thinking of us,” Jonathan said.

“I didn’t mean to…” Clark’s voice faded, feeling rough.

“Jerome,” Martha’s voice came on the line. “You’re family. You’ll always be.”

“Thanks,” he whispered. “I appreciate…” He coughed.

“Let Lois nurse you back to health and you’ll be right as rain in no time. Just do whatever she says,” Martha said.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he murmured under his breath. He continued, louder, “She has everything under control.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less of her,” Martha said. “Take care, Jerome, and please let us know when you’re back to being yourself again.”

“Will do, Ma…Mom.” He chest felt warmer when he said this, fuller. “Will do. Good night.”

He hung up after their good-byes and set his phone down in his lap, contemplating all he had just learned. Christmas in Smallville with the Kents. Could life get any better? He glanced over at Lois. “I suppose you want to stay in the city for the Christmas holidays.”

She shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about it.” She scooted closer. “We did work on Thanksgiving, so I figured we could wrangle a few days off from Perry during Christmas; although, I had been thinking more of Tahiti than Smallville...” She touched his shoulder and, moving closer again, kissed his cheek.

He turned and, wrapping an arm about her waist, joined his lips to hers. “We can fly to Tahiti any time, minha. Christmas is for family.”

“I try to avoid my family at Christmas or any other time of year,” Lois said, as if he needed a reminder. “Anyway…” She danced her fingers down his arm to his hand. “You’re all the family I need.”

Clark’s shoulders dropped, and he suddenly felt drained of energy. He looked down at the phone in his lap and moved it to a side table. He was about to remind her about his shower, when she spoke first.

“I guess since I kind of officially made the Kents your parents, it would be rude not to accept. Anyway, it might be fun to see how the rest of Americana does the holidays.”

His eyes flashed up to hers as he grinned. “Really? You won’t regret this! Christmas at the farm is the best. My mom…” Lois’s eyebrows shot up, and Clark felt his face growing warm. Nothing like his runaway tongue. “Martha said I could call her ‘mom’,” he explained softly, not looking her in the eye.

Lois didn’t respond, merely slid her feet to the floor and held out a hand to him. “Let’s say we get you out of that suit, Superman, and into a hot shower.”

***End of Part 222***

Feel free to check out the alternative ending to this part over yonder on the NFIC boards.

Part 223

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