Two days passed by. Two grueling days where Clark could feel himself getting worse by the hour. Two long days where every breath took effort and fell far short of giving his body the amount of oxygen it needed. Two days where Lois sat by his side in support.
She never complained. Not once did she comment on the tasteless, tepid cafeteria food. He heard not a word about how uncomfortable the hospital chairs were. And if she was getting annoyed with Dr. Klein's slow and - unfortunately - ineffective treatments, she kept such thoughts to herself. She barely even checked the time, unless it was getting close to the end of visiting hours or she had an interview to get to.
He was impressed.
He longed to be able to discuss with her, at detailed length, the whole Superman thing. He was ready to tell her everything, starting from the broken pieces of his past that Jor-El had sketched out in the messages he'd left for Clark in the globe, all the way to his adoption by the Kents, the emergence of his powers, traveling the lonely, harsh world on his own, and finding his purpose in Metropolis - both as a man in love and as Superman. He needed to let Lois yell, scream, cry, throw accusations...whatever she might need to do in order to...
To what? he asked himself in the middle of the third day of his hospital stay, while Lois was out conducting an interview he himself should have been handling. To feel better? To hate me less? To sort out her feelings? To - hopefully - forgive me? Do I even deserve forgiveness?
But Lois steadfastly refused to broach the subject - not even in whispered tones. It wasn't the time or place, she kept saying, any time he tried to bring it up. He understood why she wasn't ready to talk to him about it. He really did. But he was also terrified that he might die without her ever knowing all there was to know, and possibly with her still resenting him for it. He respected her wishes anyway and stopped trying after a while. If he got better, however, he wouldn't rest until he was sure that Lois heard all he so desperately needed to tell her.
He'd tried drafting, in his mind, the exact words he would say, but nothing sounded right. So he gave up on that too, putting his faith in the universe - that it would provide the right words if and when the time came. He wondered if there even were "right words" for the discussion to come.
Still, he had to believe that Lois wasn't thoroughly disgusted with him for his lies. After all, she dutifully came and kept him company. She asked Dr. Klein questions, even ones that had never occurred to Clark. She took care of whatever needs Clark had - getting him a drink, fixing his blankets and pillows, calling for Dr. Klein or a nurse if the need arose. Her devotion to him felt unreal, given the circumstances. But he was grateful for it nonetheless and took nothing for granted. If anything, he was afraid that Lois would finally snap out of whatever sense of duty she felt toward him and leave, never to return. If that happened, he wouldn't know what to do. A life without Lois wasn't a life worth living.
But she did return after every run to the cafeteria for a cup of the foul smelling sludge they called coffee, after every interview, after every forced retreat to her apartment to sleep the night away. It made Clark's heart skip a beat, every time the door opened and he discovered that Lois had, once again, chosen to be by his side.
Mayson came as much as possible too, but her job wasn't nearly as flexible. She typically only had time to swing by the hospital for an hour or two at night, before the visiting hours ended. Clark didn't mind. Mayson was a friend - and he was extremely thankful for that - but she wasn't the one whose mere presence lifted some of the fog of pain from his body. She wasn't the one who made his heart skip a beat in happiness.
There were two people he longed to see who couldn't visit him though. His parents. He wanted to see them now more than he ever had in all his life. He suddenly understood only too well why young children clung to their parents when they were sick. He longed for their comforting presence, their gentle reassurances, their loving words, the same as any sick toddler would. Maybe they could help drive away some of the fear that grew day by day - the fear that he was getting sicker, the terror that he might not recover.
But in that too, Lois did her best to cater to his needs. Every morning, she did two things as soon as she stepped foot into his room. The first was to check on how he was feeling and ask if there was anything she could do for him. The next was to deliver any messages from his parents, and jot down any messages he might have for them, so his exact words wouldn't be lost to memory in the intervening hours. It never failed to humble Clark, to see exactly how dedicated Lois was to his family. It left him aching to one day make his family hers through marriage.
For that to happen, however, he needed to get well. Needed to keep fighting. And he was fighting. But his best efforts weren't good enough, and he felt himself slipping away, little by little. He spent all his waking hours when Lois wasn't in his room wracking his brain for some untried idea that might have a chance of saving his life. All for naught. No thoughts, no new angles, no inspiration came to his mind. He wasn't a medical professional. He knew nothing about Kryptonian physiology. Oh, he knew the basics - like human Earthlings, he had a heart to pump blood, lungs to breathe with, kidneys to filter toxins out of his body. He had a brain to think with, bones and flesh that composed his body, muscles that made it possible for him to move around. But despite how closely his body resembled human beings, he was different. No one else had the powers that he did. No one else possessed invulnerability. No one else on the planet could be hurt by Kryptonite.
Lois was faring no better with new ideas.
"I've tried to think of something...anything...to suggest to Dr. Klein," she told him late in the evening, on his third hospital day. "But...all I've come up with is being short on sleep and distracted, less than stellar articles for Perry. I'm so sorry, Clark."
He shook his head gently. "Don't be. None of this is your fault, Lois. The truth is, I've spent a lot of time thinking about this too. And I've come up with absolutely nothing."
"I know it's not my fault," she said with a shake of her head, as though dismissing her own inner thoughts. "But...I don't know. I'm used to fixing things. I'm used to getting things done, you know? Investigating a story and getting criminals put behind bars and the like. I hate feeling so...so...powerless."
"I know," Clark offered. "I love that about you. Your passion and drive. Your refusal to back down on anything." He gave her a smile.
Lois fell silent. "There may be one thing I can do," she said after what felt like hours but was, at the most two or three minutes.
Clark arched an intrigued eyebrow. "Oh? What's that?"
"Well..." she hedged, drawing the word out. "It would require a certain amount of...shall we say...divulgence...of your condition. Nothing too personal, of course, but it would require letting someone else in on the fact that you're as sick as you are."
"Who?" Clark asked, trying to read her and failing.
"My father."
Clark found himself speechless as the words sank in. Lois' father. Samuel Lane. One of the most famous - if not the most famous - sports medicine doctors in the world. And while Clark's condition wasn't as simple as a torn router cuff or a busted knee, it was possible that the man might have some idea of how to treat Clark that no one else had yet thought of.
"Okay," he agreed without hesitation. "I trust you, Lois. If you think your father might be able to help, I'm willing to gamble on it."
Lois nodded solemnly. It was obvious to Clark that she appreciated his trust in her. "I'll call him when I get home and see what he has to say. I'd call now, but visiting hours are almost up."
"Thank you, Lois," Clark replied.
"For what? I haven't found a way to heal you yet, remember?" She was joking with him a little, but there was an inherent sadness and fear behind her words.
"I know your relationship with your father isn't great," Clark clarified. "I know you hate asking him for anything. So, I know how difficult this is, to have to ask him to save my life."
"You're right. My relationship with my father could be better," Lois admitted, fiddling with her empty coffee cup from her last cafeteria run, hours before. "He and I are trying to fix things, ever since that whole boxing scandal he got mixed up in. But, even if we weren't making any progress on healing all the hurts between us, I would still ask him for his help right now. You're worth it."
***
Later that night, as promised, Lois called her father. It wasn't an easy thing to do. Not by a long shot. But Clark's life hung in the balance. He was getting sicker, not better, and it was happening quickly. So, as soon as she got back to her apartment, she locked the door, toed off her shoes, and grabbed the phone.
And then she simply sat on her couch, staring at the cordless headset in her hands.
For ten minutes, she sat there, gathering her courage, trying to find the right words to use. She knew she shouldn't be nervous. It was only her father, and despite their rocky relationship, she knew - or, at the very least, hoped - he wouldn't be able to deny her plea for help, especially considering that she was calling on Superman's behalf. She knew Sam Lane admired the hero, particularly since he, Lois, and Clark had all helped to clear his name in that boxing scandal. And yet, she was nervous anyway.
Finally, with trembling fingers, she dialed her father's number. It rang several times before going to his voicemail. She hung up without a word and dialed again, this time opting to call his lab. Ring! No answer. Ring! No answer. Ring!
"Hello?" came the sleepy sounding voice of her father.
"Daddy? It's me. Lois."
"Lois?" He seemed to perk up and snap to attention. "It's good to hear from you," he said after a few seconds of silence, as if he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say next. "How are you, Princess?"
"I...uh...I'm fine," she stammered. "I...I need your help with something."
"Oh? What's that?" Intrigue flowed from his voice. Intrigue and maybe a little disappointment that it wasn't a social call.
"I have a sick friend," she began. "I think he's dying. His doctor doesn't know what else he can do to try and save my friend's life. He's tried everything. I was hoping that maybe you could...maybe you had a new angle on treatment." She purposefully didn't say Superman's name yet. She didn't want that to be the only thing Sam heard.
Silence. Then, finally, "Well...that depends. What's wrong with your friend?"
"He has a...unique illness," Lois replied.
"Lois, honey, I'd love to help you, but I need more information," Sam pressed.
Lois sighed softly. "I know. It's just...promise me something."
"Anything." He sounded sincere.
"You can't breathe a word of what I'm about to say to anyone, ever. Not to Lucy. Not to Mom. Not to Misha or whoever your current business partner is. Not even to yourself under your breath when you think you're totally alone."
"Geez, Lois, who's your friend? The President?" Sam joked.
"Don't be silly, Daddy. It's...it's Superman," she said, her tone letting him know that she wasn't kidding.
"Su...Superman?" Sam said, stunned.
Lois rolled her eyes. "Daddy! I told you, you can't speak about this out loud!"
"Don't worry so much. I'm alone. Have been, all day. But, if it makes you happy, I'll keep it vague."
"Thanks," Lois said, nodding to herself.
Sam fell quiet a moment before speaking. "So, uh," he said, clearing his throat. "How is it that you and he...uh..."
"How do I know what's going on?" Lois supplied. "It's a long story, but what it boils down to is, he and I are friends. You know that, Daddy. I've told you before."
"Yes..." he said thoughtfully.
"When he got sick...he asked me to act as his medical proxy."
"He...what?" Shock and disbelief rang in his voice.
"Well, sure," Lois said casually, as though it was obvious that he would choose her. "Who else does he have? It was me or Clark, and Clark's on assignment so..." She deliberately let her voice trail off. "So...do you think you can help?"
Sam took a noisy breath on the other end of the phone line. She knew her father well enough to know that it was his way of buying a few precious seconds as he thought. But, instead of his usual launch into some idea or another, he stayed quiet.
"Daddy?" she prompted after a minute or so.
"I'm thinking," he assured her. "Without knowing his medical history, or even how different he is from everyone else, I can't say anything with certainty."
"I understand," Lois said, her heart sinking.
"Tell me what you can," he encouraged.
So Lois did. She told him everything - about the suspected Kryptonian virus, how it was affecting Clark's body, what Dr. Klein had tried, how Clark continued to worsen. When she was completely finished, Sam took another minute of silence to mull it all over.
"It sounds like this Dr. Klein has been pretty thorough," he admitted. Lois could picture him scratching his chin as he thought. "I don't know what else there is, outside of what he's already tried. I'm sorry, Princess."
That was all it took to crush Lois' soul. The tears she'd been fighting back all day finally broke free of her iron will. A few spilled from her eyes and raced down her cheeks.
"I...see," she managed, somehow keeping her voice strong and steady. "Thanks, Daddy."
She was about to wish him a goodnight when Sam spoke again.
"Lois?"
"Yes?"
"There might be one other thing to try. Mind you, it's extremely dangerous and, well, basically a crapshoot, to be perfectly frank. It could very well kill him. But, it may be better than nothing at all."
"What is it?" she pleaded, a spark of hope fluttering like a damaged butterfly in her chest. "We're desperate."
"There's a theory...and, again, it's only a theory...that if a host body can be brought to the brink of death, the virus won't be able to survive. It will basically be starved out. The trick is to find that knife's edge, where the host body teeters on the edge of life, where it begins to die so that the virus dies, but stays alive enough to be pulled back into life and health. You see why I'm not eager to recommend it?"
"I do," Lois replied. "But we really are at that point. Thank you, Daddy. You don't know what your help means to me. But...I think I should go. I need to talk this over with him. Dr. Klein too."
"Go," Sam encouraged, sounding genuinely proud of her. "And good luck."
"Thanks, Dad. I'll call you soon." She paused and smiled. "I still owe you a dinner from the last time you were in town. Maybe we could plan something."
She could almost hear her father smiling in turn. "I'd like that. Goodnight, Lois."
"Night. And thanks again. You may have just saved Superman's life."
She hung up the phone, excitement and terror dueling in her heart. She had a potential treatment for Clark. And that's all it was at the moment - a potential treatment - unless and until Clark agreed to try it. But that same treatment could kill him faster than the accursed virus that was ravaging his body. Still, it was better than nothing, wasn't it?
"That's for him to decide," she told her living room.
She checked her watch. It was already after nine at night. Would Dr. Klein still be at the hospital? Or was he like Lois - driven to stay close to Clark for as long as humanly possible, until he was completely healed? She made the decision to take advantage of the fact that Dr. Klein had given her his private cell phone number.
Her body trembling with a mixture of hope and fear, she dialed the number and waited while it rang. On the second ring, the doctor picked up.
"Hello?" he said.
"Dr. Klein, it's Lois. Are you still at the hospital?"
A yawn, then, "I was just about to head home for the night. Why?"
"Stay put. I'm heading back over. I think I might have solution to our problem."
"Uh...what?" he replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion and confusion.
"I'll explain when I get there."
Lois hung up the phone without waiting for a response. Time was of the essence. She was sure of it. Every second counted as Clark's condition worsened. Tossing the phone aside, she stuffed her feet into her sneakers again without bothering with the laces at all. She grabbed her purse and her car keys, and pulled her coat on only once she was in the elevator. She drove like a woman possessed, making it back to the hospital in record time, and only narrowly avoiding getting into an accident at one particularly busy intersection. The parking lot was nearly empty at that hour, now that visiting hours were over, so she had no trouble getting a spot.
Dr. Klein was waiting for her by the main check in counter. He waved away the receptionist's questions and led Lois beyond the doors separating the lobby from the rest of the building.
"What's this all about?" he asked Lois as they strode quickly down the hallway.
Lois shook her head. "Not here. Let's get to his room first. There's no sense in repeating myself."
"Fair enough," he said with a shrug.
Clark was asleep when they got to his room. But his sleep wasn't restful. Instead, his skin was shiny and slick with sweat from the fever raging inside him. His breathing was the most labored that Lois had ever seen. Tremors shook his body now and again in the slightest degree. Alarm shot through her, and, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the worry in Dr. Klein's face too.
"He wasn't like this when I left him," the doctor apologized. "Please, believe me."
"I do," Lois said with a nod, her eyes never leaving Clark. She went to Clark's bedside. "Hey...Superman?" she called softly. No response. "Superman?" she tried again, louder this time. When he didn't move or speak, pure terror drenched her heart. "Superman?" She gently shook him at the shoulder for good measure.
To her relief, his eyes fluttered open, but not fully. It was as if he was barely hanging on to consciousness.
"Lois?" he croaked.
"Yeah," she said softly, smiling just a bit. "I talked to my father tonight, like I promised. Dr. Klein is here and I need to tell you both what my father said."
Clark seemed to perk up just a tad. "Does he have a treatment?"
"Maybe. But it's dangerous," she said.
Swiftly, she told them what Samuel had said. She didn't hold back on the details or sugar coat them in any kind of way. Instead, she carefully stressed just how dangerous this course of treatment could be. Clark needed to understand exactly what he was either going to agree to or reject. Clark said not a word as she spoke, save to ask for clarification once. He still said nothing as she sat back fully in her chair once she was completely finished speaking. He looked thoughtful, to her trained eyes.
"What you're proposing..." Dr. Klein began, appearing to be almost at a loss for words.
It was hard for Lois not to cringe at "proposing." All it did was to remind her how this had all begun - a wonderful night out followed by her disastrous proposal of marriage, made in complete ignorance of what she was getting herself into.
"I know," Lois said. "It's insanely dangerous. But, what other choices do we have?"
"I'll admit, I have heard of this theory before. But I've never heard of it actually put into practice. It would be hard enough to gauge how close a regular person would be - if they were too close to death to pull them back or not close enough, rendering the treatment pointless. With it being used on Superman..." His voice trailed off, leaving the implications left unsaid.
Lois nodded. "Like I said, it's insane to consider. But it's up to Superman. Superman?" she prompted.
But Clark didn't respond.
"Superman?" she asked again, looking over to where he lay.
His eyes were closed, and at first, Lois thought he'd fallen asleep again. On a closer inspection, however, she knew something was wrong.
"Superman?" she cried, springing up out of her seat and gently shaking him. How she managed, in her panic, not to call him Clark, the way her heart was screaming, she didn't know.
"Step back," Dr, Klein gently commanded her, while simultaneously pulling her away from the bed. "Let me take a look."
She watched without seeing as the doctor checked Clark over. Each second that passed, she yearned for an answer. But when Dr. Klein faced her again, face pale with fear, she wished for those seconds back.
"He's slipped into a coma," he announced, his voice hollow.
"Wh...what does that mean?" Lois asked, her throat suddenly dry and constricted.
"It means we're out of time." He heaved a sigh. "You're his medical proxy. Do you want to try your father's suggestion?"
"I...I...I..." she stammered, trying to buy time as her mind spun crazily.
How was she supposed to make that decision? Either way, Clark's life was on the line. How cold she be the one responsible for saying yes or no to a procedure that could quite possibly kill him? Dr. Klein saw her indecision and nodded.
"Look, it's going to take me some time to go and retrieve the Kryptonite I'll need, if you say yes," he said, dropping his voice to a near whisper. "Think it over while I'm gone. At best, I'll already have what I'll need to get started right away. At worst, I'll carry around a piece of rock for no reason. Okay?"
Lois swallowed hard, trying to moisten her throat enough to speak. "Okay," she said with a nod. "Thanks."
Dr. Klein checked his watch. "It shouldn't take more than an hour for me to get to the lab and back again. I'd send an assistant to bring it here, but only Superman and I have had our biometrics programmed into the vault's security system."
"I'll be ready with an answer when you return," Lois promised, throwing a look at Clark.
Dr. Klein nodded, and, without another word, left the room.
Lois sighed as the door closed behind him. "What am I going to do?" she wondered aloud. "How am I supposed to choose between two very bad options?" She sighed again. "What would you choose?" she asked Clark's unresponsive form.
She thought that maybe - just maybe - he might have chosen to risk everything and go with her father's suggestion. After all, he hadn't immediately rejected the idea as too dangerous. But, then again, that wasn't Clark's way, at least not when it concerned him. If it had been Lois' life that was on the line, she was sure he would have voiced some kind of strong opinion on the subject.
"The Kents," she finally realized, her voice no more than a gentle breath that even Clark's super hearing would have had trouble picking up. "They should have a say in things."
She pulled out her phone and hit the speed dial for Clark's apartment. Jonathan picked up on the second ring. Lois could hear some kind of sports game playing on the television in the background. The man called for Martha to pick up the extension and Lois hesitantly filled them in on what was happening. Neither one of the two farmers said much, which spoke volumes to Lois of how terrified they were for their son. In the end, though, Jonathan and Martha felt the way Lois did about the choice facing them.
The chance of death to the Kryptonite was preferable to the certainty of death to whatever virus was destroying his organs and body.
It was true that none of them felt particularly good about subjecting Clark to the deadly green stone. It was also true that they were all petrified that Dr. Klein wouldn't be able to find that narrow line between an ineffective treatment and certain death. But none of them were willing to sit back and watch as the virus slowly stole Clark away from them.
When Dr. Klein returned less than forty-five minutes later, Lois met him with grim determination.
"Do it," she told him, as soon as the door to Clark's room was shut.
To Be Continued...
