Continued from:
Impact [CHAPTER 9 - Tar]
Lois’ living room was a mess. She had gathered everything she could from EPRAD and had a great deal of papers and folders strewn throughout.
Thanks to that evening's paper, the world suspected someone had orchestrated the malfunction in the equipment that had prevented EPRAD from communicating with Superman and had somehow convinced Superman that he needed to stay with the rocket.
It was the only thing that made sense.
Looking back at the com readouts, they had determined the coms had been disrupted roughly three minutes before impact. What if the coms hadn't simply malfunctioned or been severed but had been redirected? Could someone have been speaking with Superman? That would explain the elevated heart rate before the technical difficulties had been discovered, unless Superman had tried to communicate and hadn't been able to get through before EPRAD had tried? But if that was the case, why hold on to the rocket unless he was certain the sabotage extended to the rocket systems, and how would he know that unless someone told him?
Lois hoped he would return soon so he could tell them what had happened.
She clenched her teeth, beating down the horrid thought of 'if he comes back, that is.’
Turning her attention to the list she was creating, Lois laid out a timeline of sorts as well as everything being done to get answers.
They had determined the EMP had come from the asteroid. Somehow the material makeup of the asteroid had discharged a large amount of electromagnetic energy when it had been destroyed. Scientists believed it was due to the core of the asteroid, since the surface of the asteroid only contained rock, clay, and nickel. Which was another reason why EPRAD was working furiously to identify what exactly made up the asteroid, especially since the explosion had been larger than they had expected. But it would take time, perhaps a great deal of time due to the ruined satellites. At the moment, they only had the data that had been gathered in those few seconds between the explosion and the pulse. That and what they could see from earth bound telescopes which were unfortunately under cloud cover that would last through the night.
Mrs. Lonham, Lois’ neighbor, entered the room carrying two steaming cups of coffee on a wooden tray, despite the late hour.
She had no family nearby and, with recent events, Lois invited her over so neither would be alone. Lonham was up in years and not in the best of health, but she was still able to make a great cup of Joe and was very nice to talk to. It was part of the reason why Lois was quick to help her out with groceries and the like. Finding people who could keep up with her conversationally was rare, after all.
“Any progress?” Lonham asked, setting Lois’ coffee down beside a stack of papers she was reading.
“I think so,” she said, before glaring at one of the stacks. “When I figure out who is responsible for all of this. . . .” She didn't bother to finish the threat.
“I'm looking forward to it, dear,” Lonham said, sitting down on the far end of the couch that was free of paper and closest to her main oxygen tank.
She had COPD and, as such, her portable tanks had to be refilled every six to ten hours (depending on how much oxygen she had needed). After putting her cup down, she disconnected the lines to her now full tank before reclaiming her cup and reclining back against the couch.
“Thank you again, Lois. Being alone at home had not been appealing,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee.
“No problem, Eleanor,” she said, scanning a sheet she had obtained from Jimmy that afternoon.
After inviting her to stay, the older woman had insisted on being called Eleanor. They were no longer simply neighbors and being called Mrs. Lonham was unnecessarily formal now.
“What are you going to do next?” she asked as Lois took a moment to rub her eyes.
“Compile a list of everyone who had access and the ability to alter the electronics on the rocket and begin investigating them,” Lois answered simply. “I can't completely trust anyone at EPRAD right now so need to do as much as I can on my own -- not that that’s new really. Anyway, they no doubt have a rat on the inside who helped with this for some reason.”
“So you are going to find out who and why?”
She nodded. “It wouldn't be the first time someone was an unwilling accomplice, but then we could be dealing with someone who was happy to do what they did.”
She moved to pick up another sheet of paper--
CRASH!
*THUD*
“What on Earth?!” Eleanor shouted, spilling some of her coffee as Lois rushed out to see what had happened in the other room.
A pitch black and grey figure was on his hands and knees in front of the window, wheezing horribly.
The light of the room was on, which was a good thing because she might not have been able to see him otherwise.
“Kal-El?!” she shouted, torn by hoping it was him while at the same time praying it wasn't. But it was. No one else could get up to her apartment and enter (forcefully or not) through that window.
He had departed without his cape, so not seeing it didn’t surprise her, but the rest of what she saw did. His uniform was in tatters and covered in a black and grey residue that looked like dry tar mixed with ash. His boots were gone and his sleeves and pants were shredded with his right shoulder completely exposed, save for the black and grey all over it.
She quickly knelt down beside him, placing her hands on his back before immediately pulling them back. The black grit was rough and felt more like fine glass than one would think by its appearance.
And he was absolutely freezing!
“Kal-El,” she said again, for a moment at a loss of what to do as he continued to wheeze.
He looked up at her, showing that not even his lips or the inside of his mouth was free of the black material.
“Let’s get this stuff off of you, come on!” she urged, latching onto the first thing she thought of that had the chance of helping him. She looked back to the living room, hearing Eleanor approaching. “Eleanor, water and washcloths! Bring them to my room! It’s Superman!”
“Oh! I will as fast as I can!” she said, rushing back to the kitchen.
“Come on,” she said again, helping Kal-El up.
She was alarmed by how badly he was shivering, and his hands didn’t seem to be working at all. It was a struggle to get him to her bathroom that was less than a dozen feet away and into the tub she had. He could barely even step into it and all but collapsed. She helped ease his back against the tub’s back wall, trying to hide how afraid she was becoming at seeing him this way.
She started the water, leaving the drain open as it washed over his blackened feet. She waited a moment for the water to warm up, placing a reassuring hand on his chest as she grabbed one of her spare washcloths on the side of the tub. She wet it and began wiping his mouth as Eleanor came in.
Lois couldn’t help but gasp. His lips were blue and the skin she could see was as pale as a corpse. He was now taking short, weak gasps and his eyes were glassing over. His head was dropping forward and he wasn't shivering anymore. Lois knew that couldn't be good.
“Here, give him this!” Eleanor suddenly exclaimed, giving Lois her portable oxygen tank.
Lois took it without question, placing the nasal cannula on him after doing her best to wipe out the black crud from his nose. Eleanor set the tank’s flow on high.
“Help sit him up,” Eleanor directed, taking a seat on a stool on the other side of the tub since she couldn’t help much physically. “He likely has whatever is on him in his lungs.”
“Oh gawd,” Lois breathed, instantly realizing the implications.
“Cup your hand, like this, and as you lean him forward, pound his back, slightly under the shoulder blades and just off the spine,” Eleanor said, suddenly grateful for having a son who fought pneumonia a number of times during his childhood. “Do it as many times as you can. I’ll tell you if you need to hit harder.”
It was a little awkward, balancing him with one arm while her other hit his back. She could tell he was doing everything he could to stay conscious. She seriously doubted she would have been able to keep him upright if he wasn’t.
As Lois began doing that, Eleanor took the cup she had brought and dumped it -- Superman couldn’t drink anything at the moment anyway -- and began taking the now warm water from the faucet and pouring it over his back and shoulders to try to warm him up, as well as rinse off whatever was caked on him.
On the twentieth or fiftieth heavy pat, (Lois had lost count when her arm began wanting to fall off) he began coughing.
And coughing.
Disgusting, black mucus mixed with the same substance that coated Kal-El's body came up, striking the bottom of the tub between his calves with a sickening slap, but with each one, each following gasp sounded a little less strained.
“Good, good job. Just let it out,” Eleanor encouraged, deciding it was better to act as if this was no big deal.
“Better?” Lois asked as he took a deep, slow breath, his expression clearly relieved.
“Much,” he rasped, closing his eyes. “Thanks.”
Lois smiled, just as relieved, though she was still aware he was way too cold. “Alright, let’s get you cleaned and warmed up.”
She eased him back, taking one of the clean cloths Eleanor had brought as Eleanor used the cup to scoop up the black viscous slop from the bottom of the tub.
“We might need to learn what was in his lungs. If we do, we'll have this,” she explained at Lois’ questioning look.
Lois nodded in understanding as she gave the bottom a quick rinse and then stopped up the drain. They were quiet for a while, simply lost in the moment as the warmer-than-hot water began to rise. Lois looked at Kal-El, now reclined back against the tub and very close to sleep. It was definitely an odd sight to know this man had done so much and was now so vulnerable.
She brought the washcloth up to his face and began to gently clean away the space tar -- which was the best term she could think of for it. Going to his temple, he suddenly winced. Frowning, she carefully continued.
She found a bruise, starting an inch from his hairline and no doubt going beyond it, under his hair.
“You have a bruise,” Lois said in disbelief.
He gave a noncommittal hum, dozing.
She found another a moment later by his neck and then another that fully encompassed his bare shoulder. That one was clearly a deep impact bruise, it's center vengefully vibrant. She suddenly wanted to cry. She looked up at Eleanor who didn't look much better.
“Kal-El, I'm going to remove the top half of your uniform, alright?” Lois said after taking a thick swallow.
“'Kay,” he mumbled.
Lois got up and grabbed some scissors from one of her bathroom drawers before returning. Eleanor turned off the water. It was now up to his armpits.
“Lois, where do you keep your thermometer? We should probably check his temperature,” Eleanor said.
“In the cabinet over there,” she said, pointing. “Are you doing okay?” she asked her, glancing at the oxygen Superman was still using.
“Yes. If I need it, there's another tank in the next room I can use,” she assured as she began searching for the thermometer.
Lois nodded before focusing on her own task. Pulling at the material, she began cutting it away. Removing the strips, she laid them across the back ledge of the tub. Most of the residue came off with the cloth, but there was still a fine layer stuck to his skin, apparently having slipped between the fibers. She took a moment to wipe across his chest as Eleanor came back with the thermometer.
They both stilled.
“Should we be concerned about serious internal injuries?” Eleanor asked after a moment.
“I . . . I don’t know. They look similar to what I got from paintball the one time I played, just . . . bigger.”
Marks littered his torso, from marble to baseball sized, angry purple and blue, although more were concentrated on his right side.
“Hmm?” he asked, squinting up at them.
“We need to check your temperature,” Eleanor said, prompting him to turn his head so she could reach his ear. He did so.
“What is it?” Lois asked as Eleanor looked at the reading with a frown.
“89 degrees. His normal is 100.5, right?” she asked.
Lois nodded, now working on cleaning his arm.
“And he hasn't started shivering again,” Eleanor said, concerned.
“Hypothermia?” Lois asked.
“Without question,” Eleanor said authoritatively.
“Alright, let's get this stuff off of him, then we can get him dry and under my electric blanket,” Lois said.
They drained and refilled the tub two more times, using warmer water each time before they managed to get the majority of the dark space plaque off. She also cut away as much of his uniform as she could, removing everything from the mid thigh down and waist up, leaving him in a pair of strange, discolored shorts. Most of the time, she was pretty sure he was asleep or unconscious, and though his skin seemed to be warming slightly, he hadn't re-started shivering yet. He should have if he was adequately regaining his temperature, but they knew he wasn't. His temperature was still 89 the last two times they took it.
“W-where am I?” Kal-El suddenly asked, his eyes halfway open as they began drying him with several towels.
“You're in my apartment,” Lois answered.
“Cold. So cold,” he mumbled.
“We know, we're drying you off now and then we’ll get you into bed.”
“Into bed. Home, I need to go home,” he said, feebly reaching out.
“Okay, but let's get you warm first, alright?” Lois said, taking his hand.
“Need to get home,” he insisted.
“Okay, where do you live?” Lois asked, deciding not to fight him.
“Need to get home,” he repeated. “Can't stop.” He repeated it a few more times, no longer really hearing or seeing what was around him.
“I think he's becoming delirious,” Eleanor said. “Maybe we should take him to the hospital.”
“No!” he shouted, jolting up before flopping back, apparently more aware than they had thought. “No hospitals! Please, no hospitals.”
“What? Why?” Lois asked, alarmed by his reaction.
“Not safe, not safe,” he said earnestly despite his growing weakness.
“Alright, no hospitals,” Lois promised, patting his arm. He calmed quickly, sagging and falling back unconscious.
Lois and Eleanor looked at each other.
“I might know someone we can call,” Lois said hesitantly, biting her lip. “And there's someone else I should probably call anyway to let them know what's happened. I just don’t know if we should give him more time to recover. I doubt this will stay secret for long if I tell anyone outside of here.”
“I think we'll need to call someone sooner rather than later, unless you think you can get him out by yourself?” she asked, indicating the tub.
“I'll try first and then go from there,” she said, not eager to call either person she had in mind.
Patting his cheek, she tried to rouse him. “Kal-El, I need you to wake up a bit. I need your help to get you to bed.”
He didn't respond. She tried it again and he moaned.
“Come on, as soon as you're in bed you can sleep as long as you need,” Lois encouraged.
He sluggishly sat up and accepted Lois’ help with Eleanor making sure the oxygen line had plenty of slack as she carried the small portable tank toward the bedside table. Carefully, Lois managed to help him stand and he stepped from the tub.
“Thanks,” he said as they made their way to the bed.
“It's the least we can do after you saved the world,” Eleanor said, setting the tank on the side table before pulling the covers back from the bed.
He suddenly stumbled and grabbed hold of the wall as Lois did her best to stabilize him.
“Are you alright?” Lois asked.
He nodded, although he seemed a bit stiff and confused.
“You're still very cold, likely hypothermic. I have an electric blanket, so I'm hoping that will help you,” Lois explained while she helped him with the last step.
He climbed into the bed, though Lois had to help with his legs before she could place her electric blanket on him, followed by the comforter. She adjusted the temperature dial, about to tell him he could adjust it if he wished but she found he was already asleep.
“Should we take his temperature again?” Eleanor asked.
“Yeah. I want to know when it begins going up,” she said, already getting the thermometer. “I feel like it should have by now.”
She took the reading and Lois wanted to curse.
“It’s worse. 85,” Lois said.
“How the heck did we lose four degrees? Let’s check again in fifteen minutes. It’s bound to be better once he’s under the heated blanket for a bit,” Eleanor said.
Lois nodded but retrieved her phone.
“I'll stay with him,” Eleanor assured quietly.
Lois smiled gratefully before heading out of the room so she wouldn't disturb Kal-El, assuming anything could actually wake him up at the moment.
Taking a deep breath, she called the number she hadn't really wanted to call again so soon, but this was important. It was for Superman.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said, trying to sound calm as she was suddenly hit with how close the world had come to losing Superman.
How there was still a chance they could lose him if she missed something or failed to help him. If he hadn't expressed such fear of going to the hospital she'd be calling 911 instead. Good Lord, what would have happened if Eleanor hadn't been there to offer her oxygen?
“Sweetie? Everything okay? You sound a little tense or something. You didn't sound tense at all during your last call, and the world had a chance of ending then,” he said, latching onto her tone much better than she had wanted or expected. “Are you alright?”
She swallowed. “Daddy, I can't go into specifics, but I need your medical knowledge here. It's serious, so don't ask why I'm asking what I'm about to ask, just go with me here, alright?”
“Alright,” he said slowly, now really concerned.
“How do you treat hypothermia?” she asked.
“Uh, it depends on how severe it is and the symptoms the patient is displaying and how long they've been hypothermic,” he said, confused and taken aback by the medical subject. At first he was afraid she would ask about how to treat a bullet wound or something. He supposed this was a . . . better subject.
“Alright. About 15 degrees below normal, no shivering, sorta delirious, confused, very tired, um. . . .” She trailed off, not sure what else to add or include.
“That's moderately hypothermic, definitely a condition that should be treated in the hospital,” he said, asking without technically asking why this person wasn't already in a hospital.
“Okay, but how is it treated?”
“Well, wrapping the patient with heated blankets or placing warm compresses at the neck, groin, and along the chest wall would be the first step. If they can drink, I'd offer warm liquids like warm cocoa or tea. Not hot, mind you.
“If that doesn't work, I'd start warm intravenous fluids and warm air to breathe, and then I'd consider blood rewarming,” he said.
“Luke-warm to warm baths have been used but after moving him into a bed, his body temperature dropped four degrees,” Lois put in.
“Hm, that's . . . well, concerning. I assume this is inside, away from any cold elements? No open windows? Granted, it's not exactly cold or windy outside right now. This is in Metropolis, right?”
“Yeah, and we're inside. It's 73 in here right now.”
“How long in the tub? Did you replace the warm water when it started to cool?”
“Three times. Each time the water was slightly warmer than the last. He seemed to be doing better, so the bed made sense.”
“His temperature rose in the tub?” he asked.
“He seemed to be a little more awake, barely, but . . . no, the temperature remained the same.”
“That doesn't make any sense. His temperature should have risen substantially from being submerged in water. It's just how thermodynamics works. Is there anything else going on with him? Maybe that'll explain this and can tell us what should be done.”
Lois closed her eyes, not sure what to do.
“Lois?” Eleanor called.
She hurried back to the room with her dad still on the line.
Eleanor was standing by the bed, her hand on Kal-El's head.
“Temperature is up by a degree,” Eleanor said, grinning.
Lois all but sagged in relief. “Thank goodness.”
“Sweetie?” her dad asked, a little unnerved by the silence.
“He's re-gained a degree,” she said, ecstatic.
“Excellent!” he exclaimed, relieved and overjoyed at hearing her much happier tone of voice. “Oh, and if you haven't already, make sure his head is covered. The head is where most body heat is lost,” he said.
“Okay, I will. And thanks, Daddy. I better go.”
“No problem, sweetie, just let me know how this mysterious fella is doing later. And please, if his temperature doesn't continue to improve, I don't care what the circumstances are, take him to the hospital or at least call me back.”
“Alright, I will,” she said.
After exchanging their customary farewells, she hung up and returned to the room.
“I'm going to go home for a moment if that's alright. He looks about my Dave's size. He left some clothes when he stayed with me last. They might fit him, or at least well enough to be worn until he can find something better. I doubt he wants to remain in what he’s wearing now,” Eleanor said, now sitting on the edge of the bed beside Kal-El. She was noticeably exhausted and Lois felt a great deal of gratitude toward her.
“Alright. Thank you so much for your help. I'm not sure what I would have done if you hadn't been here,” Lois said.
Eleanor waved it off. “I'm sure you would have figured it out, but I'm glad I was able to help. It's nice to be helpful, especially to someone like him. I doubt many people ever help him, much less save his life.” With a tender smile, she brushed some hair from his still chilly forehead. “By helping him, how many lives can I say I will touch?”
“Wow,” she said. “That’s . . . wow.”
Eleanor slowly got up, looking a little pale and winded.
“Here, let me get your other tank,” Lois said, leading the way to the living room.
“Thank you, dear,” she said.
Lois helped her with the larger tank that was fortunately on wheels.
“Do you need help to your apartment?” Lois asked.
“No, I’ll be alright. Keep watch over him. I've lowered the oxygen concentration to the lowest setting since he doesn't sound as wheezy, but since he still doesn't sound right I think he should keep it until he lets himself be seen by a doctor,” she said.
Lois looked back at Kal-El, paying careful attention to his breathing. Eleanor was right, there was still some strain to it, as if he had to fight to breathe in the last second of air before relaxing to exhale.
Eleanor left a moment later with a promise to be back in an hour or so.
Time crawled even after Eleanor returned with a spare set of clothes that belonged to her out-of-state son. Lois teetered between dozing, watching over Kal-El and sleeping. There was a half hour of some relief and concern when Superman started shivering and then trembling so bad she had been very close to calling 911. The worst of it finally passed when he reached 92 degrees. By the time morning arrived, Kal-El had reached 94 degrees and was what Eleanor called ‘gently shivering’. Lois was now trying to decide if she should make that second call to her father or call someone else. She was considering Henderson.
She had thought about Dr. Daitch but immediately nixed that idea. Everyone with a tie to EPRAD was suspect. The risk was too great. At some point she knew she should try to notify his foundation that he was alright, but didn't want to start the media circus while he was so hurt.
And there was also Perry. She knew he would be torn for commending her loyalty to Superman while being irate over not getting the story immediately.
She was about to get up and make the dreaded call when she heard him.
“Wha--?”
“Kal-El?” she asked, slowly approaching her bed. She didn't want to startle him since the room was still predominantly shaded in darkness. It was still fairly early and her curtains did a good job of blocking outside light on top of that.
“Who's there?”
He was still covered in blankets and wearing her purple wool hat.
“It's me, Lois,” she answered, stopping by the bed and carefully sitting on the edge beside him.
“Lois? How long have I been here?” he asked, sounding bewildered while trying to calm his shivering.
“Since about 10 pm. It’s about 7 am now,” she answered as he squinted up at her. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Please, and anything warm. I feel like an ice cube, even though I’m pretty sure I look like an Eskimo.”
She smiled, reassured by his ability to joke. “Alright. I'll be back in a moment. I’ll also grab some clothes you might be able to wear.”
She returned to find him sitting up but still hunkered in the blankets. It was strange to see him slouching and she was certain she had seen him flinch just as she walked in. He seemed to be holding his side.
“Shall I turn the light on?” she asked, not wanting to blind him. She knew some people preferred to wake up more before turning on any lights.
“Sure,” he said softly.
She flipped the switch, snapping the darkness away. He looked exhausted but infinitely better than the night before. He didn't look like he was about to die, but simply getting over a particularly brutal cold. The only thing of slight concern were the bruises and the knowledge there were more beneath the blankets. The one on the side of his head made her want to wince in sympathy.
She came to the side of the bed and placed a small stack of folded clothes beside the oxygen machine before facing him with a mug.
“Here you are. It’s simple hot cocoa. I don’t really have anything else unless you want me to try making tea. I would ask Eleanor to make some, but she’s asleep right now,” she said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
“This is fine, thank you,” he said, slowly looking up at her as she offered him the mug.
He removed his hand from the confines of the blankets and took the cup. There was an angry bruise on his forearm that had darkened over the night. He carefully sipped, mindful of the oxygen line he still had going to his nose.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, glad he seemed well enough to hold the cup on his own and was actually able to hold a conversation.
“Sore. I feel like I got hit by something hard, a lot of somethings actually. What happened to me?” he asked.
She froze. “You mean . . . you don’t remember?” she asked, failing not to gape at him.
“Uh, no. All I can remember is. . . .” He frowned, staring into his cup. He almost looked as if he was going to be sick. “I couldn’t breathe. It was cold and very dark. And then . . . I guess I made my way here, though I’m not sure how.” He frowned before he took another sip and glanced at the broken lock still on the floor across the room. “Sorry for breaking your window.”
“Don’t worry about the window,” she assured, taking his hand while trying to think rationally. “The important thing is that you made it back.”
He looked back up at her and she was struck by how uncertain he looked. Nervous even. He looked at the portable oxygen tank and slowly removed the offending plastic nasal ports. She went ahead and stopped the oxygen flow since she was closest to it and took the line from him to drape over the tank.
“I don’t remember much of last night but know I’m only still here because of you and . . . Eleanor was it?”
She nodded and he took a shaky breath.
“I’m sorry, I feel like I know you, and I must since I somehow knew to come here, but . . . Do I know you?” he asked hesitantly.
A loud, rushing noise roared in her ears and it took her a moment to realize she wasn’t actually hearing anything, it was just her brain seizing up in horrified realization.
O o O
She was very still and utterly dumbfounded for several long seconds. He suddenly wished he could take back his words, but he knew he couldn't figure out what had happened and why he couldn't remember anything unless he asked questions.
“Yes,” she said finally, trying to keep a semblance of calm. “You know me.”
“Okay. And I assume my name is Kal-El? That is what you called me, right?” he asked, watching her closely.
She nodded, for the moment too stunned to speak.
“Do I know you well?” he asked as she seemed to regain her sense of control.
“Well, I think I can say we're good friends, even though we've only spoken a handful of times. Granted, we have had two meals together, and you've saved my life three times,” she said, giving him an embarrassed smile and shrug before laughing a little.
“I would say that makes us friends then,” he said, more than a little relieved. He didn't know why, but he knew he could trust her. He paused, the last bit of what she said settling in his mind. “Three times? How is that possible? Am I a cop or something?”
Lois rocked back slightly and took a deep breath. Apparently his lack of knowledge was particularly off putting for some reason.
“Not exactly, but you do help people. A lot of people. It's why we first met actually.”
He shifted forward, doing his best to ignore the throb in his side and his overall fatigue. He wanted answers.
“Is that why Eleanor said something about me saving the world?” he asked with a slight grimace.
She frowned and looked at him in concern. “Are you alright? You look like you're in pain.”
“My chest hurts a bit,” he admitted, putting his arm back under the covers to brace his side.
“Is it getting worse?” Lois asked.
“I don't know, maybe.” He didn't really know. He had been in pain since he woke up, but was it getting worse? Possibly, but it might just be because he was sitting up now.
“Do you, I mean, should we take a look?” she asked hesitantly.
Was she blushing?
“I guess we should,” he said. “I should probably get changed anyway.”
Still fighting shivers, he slowly slipped his arms free from the blankets and let them fall from his shoulders. He looked down. A concentrated cluster of bright discoloration wrapped his right side like a hand, drawing their eyes away from the other smaller bruises scattered across his chest and arms.
“Well, that explains why it hurts so much,” he said dumbly.
“Yeah,” she agreed.
He brought his arm up close to his side and suddenly moved his feet to the floor.
“What are you doing?! You need to rest!”
“I want to see how bad it is everywhere else,” he said, now clearly shivering.
She followed him toward the restroom, but before he could step in front of the mirror, a sensation he could never fully describe slammed into him.
He sank to his knees in absolute relief, oblivious to Lois’ shout of alarm as she rushed beside him.
“What's wrong?!” she cried.
Sunlight gleamed through the bathroom window, bathing his skin in renewing light. The pain that had ebbed from every contused inch of him was now coursing with soothing power. The hideous marks on his chest bled away and the cold evaporated from his center, refilling him with a heat as sure as the dawn. He closed his eyes and just basked in the sun.
“Lois?” a concerned voice called.
“It's--it's alright, Eleanor,” Lois managed, now kneeling beside him while being careful not to block any light.
He touched his skin, just as astonished at his recovery as Lois.
“How is this possible?” he asked. “This isn't normal, is it?”
“Well, I guess it's normal for you, and it does explain a few things. If you get your energy from the sun, that stuff covering you last night is probably why you were so weak and cold when you came in.”
“Really?” he asked incredulously. “You're serious?”
“Well, yes. . . .” She paused, contemplative and suddenly worried. “I'm not sure how best to help. I want to answer your questions, but I also don't want to . . . overwhelm you.”
“Just tell me. This confusion and not knowing can't be any worse than the truth.”
“Okay. So like a band-aid, rip it off and get it over with, but maybe you should get changed and then we can talk about all of this while we eat. That would be better. Are you hungry?”
“I think I could eat, and getting out of this would make me feel better,” he admitted as he looked down at himself and grimaced at the rather disgusting looking garment he was currently wearing. “What is this anyway?”
“The remains of your uniform. I'll explain when we eat,” she assured, quickly retrieving the clothes she had brought him earlier as he stood up. “They probably won't fit very well, but while you shower, I'll call Jimmy and hopefully he can bring you something you can go out in later,” she said, taking charge. “I need to make a few other calls anyway, and grab us something to eat. As soon as you're dressed and I'm back, I’ll tell you everything I can. The towels are clean and you can use any you need. The soap is up there and the faucet can be a little temperamental so just nudge it a little.”
Bemused, Kal-El just nodded.
“Until I get back, if you need anything, Eleanor'll be in the living room. I'll leave the bedroom door open so she can hear you. And here,” she continued, handing him a pair of scissors. “In case you need it.”
“Uh, thanks.”
She left like a tornado.
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