Lois sat opposite CK, waiting with mixed feelings for Clark to return with Jon. They’d had dinner before making the final decision to bring him back, but now the time had come and here she was, happy to be getting her baby back but nervous about handing him over to CK for a cuddle.
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him with Jon – well, not really, anyway. It was just that this was a big step; a watershed. Perhaps even the beginning of the end.
And things hadn’t exactly gone smoothly so far this evening. When they’d entered the house, they’d found CK sprawled on the sofa with his feet up on the coffee table, listening to loud rock music with his eyes closed. A half-eaten sandwich and a bottle of beer had been dumped precariously close to his feet, just waiting to be knocked over with a careless swipe. The picture he’d presented had reminded Lois of an obnoxious child arrogantly making the place his own even though he was merely a visitor in their house. Clark had immediately strode across and silenced the hi-fi, clearly of the same opinion as Lois. Then the two of them had laid into CK with questions.
“What did you tell Miss Preston about Jon?”
“Why didn’t you let us know you were thinking of going out?”
“What if she’d already seen me leaving the house this morning? How would you have explained that?”
He’d opened his eyes and given them both a cold stare. Instead of responding to their questions, he’d uttered a flat “Excuse me,” then stood up, walked into the kitchen and slammed the door shut.
After a pregnant silence during which Lois had noted absently that at least he’d managed not to knock over the beer bottle, she had looked at Clark, who in turn had winced. “I think we just got told to back off.”
“Well, he shouldn’t treat our house like he owns it,” she’d retorted. “I’m surprised Miss Preston didn’t complain about the noise.”
Clark had shrugged. “These old walls are pretty thick. I didn’t even notice it until we came inside.”
“That’s only because you didn’t expect our house to have been turned into a branch of the Stoke Club,” she’d pointed out. “Anyway, you were the one who turned the music off, not me. Why are you suddenly defending him?”
“Because I don’t think our behaviour was much better than his. We were treating him more like a naughty teenager than a house guest.” Clark had begun fiddling with the hair at the back of his head, a clear sign that he was agitated. “Why does he always bring out the worst in me? I don’t mean to get short with him, but I seem to do it anyway.”
She’d shrugged. “He has the same effect on me. Maybe we expect too much of him, or maybe he just doesn’t behave how we expect him to. He looks like you, but he’s not you.”
Clark had sighed. “Maybe. Well, we’d better apologise, I guess.”
Lois had reluctantly accepted that they’d behaved badly, and so they’d made their apologies. A still-prickly CK had then given them an account of his outing. Of course, once they’d realised how innocuous his intentions had been, they’d been even more apologetic – but the damage had been done. Now she was sitting opposite a stiff-backed CK, and Jon would be here any minute. She grimaced internally – babies had a knack of picking up instantly on any bad feelings between adults. She hoped CK was a good actor.
**********
They had no idea – no idea what he was going through, no idea how close to rock bottom he’d reached today, no idea what war was like, no idea what it was like to have lost yourself on a barren planet somewhere a billion miles away from their cosy little home in downtown Metropolis.
The music had been his way of holding it all together. For a few blissful minutes, he’d let the hard, thumping rhythms and the aggressive lyrics blot out his own feelings. He’d knocked back the beer in a few gulps, then laid back on the cushions and surrendered to the beat, turning up the sound louder and louder until there was nothing left in his head except for the raucous male voices and screaming guitars.
It had been a superbly cleansing experience, until they’d abruptly silenced the noise and forced him back to reality. He’d hardly made sense of the barrage of questions they’d thrown at him; just seen their mouths working and their indignant faces. For a split second, he’d been reminded of council sessions back on New Krypton, where the great and the good would subject him to similar bouts of demanding, petulant questions. He’d felt stifled and angry then, and the same feelings had surfaced now, along with a rawness than stemmed from being wrenched so violently from his cocoon of sound.
They’d apologised, like they always did, but they still didn’t really understand what they’d done.
But he had to put all that behind him now, because he was about to hold his baby son for the very first time. He was so excited, his palms were even sweaty – or was that nerves? Yes, he was most definitely nervous – what if Jon didn’t like him? What if he was a little clumsy with Jon, and Lois, being ever-protective, whisked him away again?
But no, everything would be fine. He’d cuddle Jon in his arms and start to build that special bond between father and son.
*************
Clark bore his precious cargo gently down to the patio, then strode through the glass doors into the lounge. Lois and CK were sitting exactly where he’d left them, looking just as ill at ease as when he’d departed for Smallville. Had they even spoken one word to each other?
As soon as he stepped through the doors, though, Lois leapt up from her seat and rushed towards him and Jon.
“How’s my baby boy?” she exclaimed, enveloping both of them in a hug and kissing Jon’s cheek. Jon chuckled happily, clearly delighted to see his Mommy again.
Clark handed Jon to Lois so that he could spin change out of his suit. He’d have to quit doing this in front of Jon fairly soon. It wouldn’t do for Jon to learn that Daddy was Superman – not before he also understood how to keep a secret, anyway.
But then, Clark suddenly realised with a stab of regret, maybe that would soon be irrelevant. If they handed Jon over to CK, it wouldn’t be their problem any more.
He looked over at CK, who had also risen to his feet and was hovering anxiously by the sofas. CK’s eyes were glued to Lois and Jon, who were currently indulging in a giggly reunion. Lois was pretending to tickle his tummy, and Jon was laughing with glee at his Mommy’s silly antics. There was a forced quality to Lois’s game, Clark thought; she was putting far too much energy into such a simple act of love. With a heavy heart, he transferred his gaze back to Jon’s father-in-waiting, and decided that now was as good a time as any.
“Lois, why don’t you let CK hold Jon?” he suggested above Lois and Jon’s laughter.
Lois turned to CK, her smile frozen on her face. Clark’s heart ached for her as her smile faded, then came back full of false bravado. She turned back to Jon and said brightly, “Look who’s here, Jon – this is...CK. He’s...a friend of Mommy and Daddy’s. Would you like to say hello?”
She walked over and angled Jon, still in her arms, towards CK. Jon took one look at CK and turned back to his Mommy, buried his head in her chest, and grabbed onto her blouse with a tight little fist. Lois looked apologetically at CK. “He’s probably a little tired. Why don’t you try holding him anyway?” She peeled Jon away from her chest and handed him slowly to CK.
Clark recognised the look in CK’s eyes – they were wide open and overly bright as he took his son’s small body in his hands for the first time. “Hi, Jon,” he said huskily, settling the boy on one arm while the other supported his back. “Pleased to meet you.”
Clark went to Lois’s side and laid his arm on her shoulders, sure she’d appreciate his support at this tense moment. Heck, he needed the support himself!
Jon had gone very quiet in CK’s arms. His head twisted away from CK, looking around on both sides for something familiar. Lois moved into his line of sight. “Hey, I’m here,” she said softly. “Say hello to CK, Jon.”
Jon looked uncertainly from his Mommy to the man holding him. “Hey,” said CK, tickling Jon gently behind his ear with a single finger. “What’s this? Do you like this, Jon?”
Jon ducked away from CK’s finger and strained backwards, looking anxiously at Lois.
“Try tickling his tummy,” suggested Clark. “He likes that.”
“Jon,” called CK in a sing-song voice, trying to retrieve his son’s attention. He copied Lois’s playful tickling action on Jon’s tummy. “Are you ticklish, Jon?” he said brightly, beaming a brittle smile.
Jon whimpered and strained even further away, reaching out with a hand to Lois. CK tried again, but Jon was clearly unhappy and began to whimper louder for his Mommy.
“I don’t think this is working,” said Lois. “Maybe you should let me take him back.”
Clark looked at CK, who was trying in vain to catch Jon’s attention and jolly him along. The poor guy wasn’t doing anything wrong; Jon simply didn’t seem to like being in his arms. “Give it a little longer, honey,” suggested Clark. “CK, try walking around with him a bit.”
CK complied, jogging Jon up and down in his arms and wandering around the room, pointing out little things here and there to his small charge. Lois glared over at Clark as Jon’s wails grew louder. “This is crazy,” she muttered.
“Give him a chance,” Clark replied quietly.
But she shook her head vehemently. “Just how miserable does our son have to get before you’ll listen to reason?” She strode over to CK and Jon. “I’m sorry, he’s just tired,” she said briskly, taking Jon from him. “I’m sure he’ll be better tomorrow.”
She bore the now loudly tearful Jon through the lounge towards the stairs, cooing soft comforting words to him all the time. “I’ll put him down for the night,” she said to Clark on her way past. “Assuming I can get him to stop crying, of course,” she added acerbically.
***********
So his son didn’t like him. Well, babies were fickle, and as Lois had said, he was probably just tired. Tomorrow would be different.
But where was that special bond he’d expected? Sure, he’d been emotional when he’d taken Jon into his arms – very emotional. Here was a living, breathing little soul – so much more than just a name or a picture in a frame. He was warm and soft and full of life; a miracle of creation.
Yet when his initial wonderment had worn off a little, he’d been left merely with an unhappy baby who obviously didn’t want anything to do with him. There had been no bond; no feeling that this child was his.
Was he expecting too much? Perhaps you had to work at your relationship with a baby, the same as you did with a partner. Maybe blood wasn’t as strong as he’d thought. And, of course, he didn’t have any experience on which to draw; he had no other blood relations in his life.
One thing was certain, though – he wanted to hold Jon again, despite the crying.
***********
Clark eyed CK thoughtfully. They’d both settled down on the sofas after Lois had borne Jon upstairs, but so far they hadn’t said much to each other. Clark had been smarting from Lois’s pointed reprimand, while CK had probably been wondering what on earth he’d done wrong. Meanwhile, Jon’s plaintive wails had filtered down from upstairs, reminding them both that the little boy was still pretty unhappy with the ordeal the adults had put him through.
CK looked disappointed. So would he, Clark thought, if Jon had rejected him as thoroughly as he had CK. It was a little different for Clark, of course, because Jon had been left in their care; there was no question, back then, that he might be taken away from them. So even if Jon had bawled his head off the first few times Clark had held him, it wouldn’t have mattered.
But to CK, rejection put his whole future with Jon in jeopardy.
Poor guy. And Lois hadn’t helped, clucking around Jon like a mother hen – which was totally understandable, of course! Clark had felt just as anxious.
“He’d been going through a clingy phase lately,” offered Clark. “Plus he’s tired.”
CK nodded. “Yeah, Lois said.”
“And I think I read somewhere that babies around his age don’t like going to strangers,” Clark added.
CK’s mouth twisted. “I’d hoped he might not see me as a total stranger. I guess that was too much to expect.”
“Well,” said Clark, searching for something encouraging to tell CK, “you have to give these things time. I’m sure once he gets to know you he’ll be fine.”
Clark winced as Jon chose that exact moment to let out a particularly loud wail. Thanks, son – you really know when to pick your moments, don’t you? He shrugged helplessly at CK as Lois’s soothing murmur following the baby’s outburst.
“Do you think it’s the beard?” asked CK suddenly. “I mean, I look pretty much like you except for that.”
Personally, Clark hoped – and believed – that there was a whole lot more to Jon’s affections than the presence of facial hair, but he nodded slowly anyway. “Maybe. And actually, if you’re going to leave the house again, it would be better if you were clean-shaven. Especially if you bump into Miss Preston again,” he added.
CK fingered his beard. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a razor, have you? I mean, you probably wouldn’t need one.”
“I think we’ve got a spare upstairs, actually. Lois and I got our lines crossed last Christmas and both bought razors for her Dad,” replied Clark. “We decided to keep one in case I...well, I guess you’ve come across kryptonite?”
CK nodded.
“Well,” continued Clark, “it’s not that likely, but if I ever lose my powers for more than a few hours, I’ll need a razor.” He shrugged. “It was Lois’s idea.”
“Can I borrow it?” asked CK.
“Sure!” Clark fetched the razor at superspeed and handed it, still in its box, to his visitor. “I think it’s got batteries, but we’ve got some spares somewhere if you need them.”
“Thanks.” CK opened the box and checked the razor still worked. “Um...No time like the present, I guess. Excuse me.”
Clark nodded, and sat back to wait while CK went upstairs to the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came back down again, still sporting his beard. He handed Clark the shaver a little sheepishly. “Do you think the guarantee covers damage by superpowers?” he asked. “Sorry.”
Clark eyed the distorted metal blade ruefully. “I doubt it.” He glanced up at CK. “But if you’ve got your powers back, why didn’t you just laser off the beard?”
CK looked even more sheepish. “I didn’t dare. I’m a little out of practice and I didn’t want to cause any more damage.” He gave Clark a self-conscious, side-long glance. “Um...”
Clark raised his eyebrows as CK’s meaning became clear. “You want me...?” He’d never shaved another man! This was kind of...awkward.
“If you don’t mind,” said CK.
“Ah...well, I guess not,” replied Clark. “Um...we’ll make it a coaching session, okay? So that next time you can do it yourself.”
CK nodded rapidly. “Yes, good idea.”
Ten minutes later, the two men were eying each other in the bathroom mirror. Without CK’s beard, they certainly looked very similar, but Clark could spot the differences quite easily. CK’s face was thinner than his own and his features were somehow harder; more tense, perhaps.
“Think you can do it yourself next time?” asked Clark.
“You’ll soon know if I mess up,” replied CK. “Your bathroom may never be the same again.”
Clark laughed. “Remind me to tell you about the time I accidentally remodelled our kitchen. Scorch marks were the least of our problems.”
***********
“No! No! Hold your fire!”
This time, Clark recognised the voice immediately. He rolled over in bed, away from Lois, and propped himself up on one elbow. Aiming his gaze at the floor, he peered through the layers of carpet and flooring to the living room below. CK was lying on his back, his head twitching fitfully from side to side while he muttered a jumble of commands and pleas for help. A thin film of sweat covered his forehead and his hair was a tousled mess. His bedclothes were falling off him onto the floor.
Again, Clark wondered what to do. Perhaps a few calming words would soothe him and help him sleep more easily. Doing nothing for the second night running wasn’t an option.
Sighing, he slipped quietly out of bed and padded downstairs.
In the living room, he stopped and watched the man on the sofa for a few moments. It felt a lot like he was intruding. This was a private thing, this torment of CK’s – he never spoke of it, nor anything else to do with his war experiences.
But Clark had come down here to help, so he closed the distance between himself and CK. Gently and slowly, he picked up the bedclothes and laid them over CK, murmuring, “It’s okay, you’re safe,” a few times. To his surprise, it seemed to have the desired effect on CK. Gradually, he stopped mumbling in his sleep and eventually turned over onto his side, snuggling into the blankets.
Clark breathed a silent sigh of relief and made his way quietly upstairs again. He was glad his intervention had worked, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to do this every night. He didn’t really want to become CK’s nursemaid.
***********
The following morning, Lois invited CK to feed Jon his breakfast. This time, Jon seemed more bemused than afraid of this strange man who looked sort of like his Daddy. Lois caught his gaze straying between the two men, as if trying to work out what on earth was going on here. She felt a little guilty about confusing him and wished she could explain the situation. Still, at least he was taking his food well – barring CK’s inexpert attempts to pop the spoon into a wayward mouth. Jon ended up with more than his usual quantity of food smeared around his face, and she had to laugh when he actually managed to wipe some of it off and splat it onto CK’s own face.
“I think he’s trying to tell you something,” she said to CK.
“What – that this stuff looks better on me than it does on him?” replied CK ruefully.
“No – that your technique needs improvement,” chipped in Clark. “Here,” he added, handing CK a cloth. “You two better clean yourselves up. We’ve got to be out of here in five minutes.”
Lois left CK to sort Jon out while she and Clark finished getting themselves ready for work. When she came back to the kitchen with Clark, CK had already extracted Jon from his high chair and was holding him comfortably in his arms.
“Thanks,” she said, holding out her hands to take him from CK.
CK held fast onto Jon and gave a lop-sided shrug. “Why don’t you leave him here with me?”
Lois stared at him, not prepared for such a radical suggestion. A hundred replies sprang to mind immediately, top of which was ‘because I think you’ll kidnap him’. She couldn’t tell him that, though. “I...You don’t know where all his things are,” she said hastily.
“And the day-care people are already expecting him,” added Clark.
“So?” replied CK, his tone irreproachably reasonable. “Phone them. And I’m sure I can find his things – I can always phone you at work if I can’t.”
“But you don’t know his schedule – what he eats and when...when he takes his nap,” she continued. This was crazy – what did he know about child-care? One breakfast and he thinks he’s an expert. He’s probably never even changed a diaper.
She looked at Clark anxiously. She was starting to feel uneasy – CK was holding their baby, seemed unwilling to part with him, and there was no way to fix the situation without frightening Jon. They’d carelessly let CK take control and now they were paying the price.
“I’m sure he’ll let me know when he’s hungry, and besides, you can tell me his schedule – it won’t take more than a couple of minutes.” He captured Jon’s little hand, which had been wandering around CK’s eyes – looking for Clark’s glasses, Lois suddenly realised with a flash of understanding. Was Jon becoming confused between the two men, or just figuring out all their differences?
Well, whatever – she wasn’t letting CK out of her sight with her baby boy. Not while he could run at a moment’s notice. “We haven’t got time for this,” she said hurriedly. “We’ll discuss it tonight,” she added, reaching for Jon again.
CK withdrew a little from her, making her even more nervous. “Please,” he implored, abruptly letting his real feelings emerge from behind the calm facade. “I can’t bear another day on my own in this place. Let me do something useful.”
His despair was very obvious, and she could understand how he wouldn’t want to be left alone with only his painful thoughts and memories to dwell upon. Solitary grief for long, lonely hours was neither safe nor healthy.
But that wasn’t a good enough reason to leave Jon in his care. In fact, it was a good reason not to leave Jon with him! She glanced at Clark again, willing him to do something inspirational about the situation. He, however, looked as clueless as she herself felt.
“If it’s the dimension-hopping device you’re worried about,” said CK suddenly, “you can take it with you. I just want to spend some time with my son. Please, Lois. And Clark.”
His pleading eyes turned on each of them in turn. Jon, meanwhile, seemed thankfully oblivious to the tension between the adults and was calmly sucking his thumb while CK played absently with his other hand.
“I guess we’re only a phone call away, honey,” said Clark after a beat. She stared at him – had he taken leave of his senses? The guy was incompetent, unstable, and prone to lashing out when he was cornered. They might as well leave Jon with an escaped inmate from a lunatic asylum!
“Give us a minute,” Clark told CK, and pulled her quickly into the living room.
“Are you crazy?!” she hissed at him as soon as they were alone. “We can’t leave Jon with him!”
“I think we can. Lois, you can see what he’s going through – he’s so desperate to spend time with Jon, he’s pushing us harder than he knows is reasonable,” whispered Clark. He shook his head vehemently. “He’s not about to hurt his own son.”
“Maybe not deliberately!” she retorted. “What happened to everything we discussed before? I thought we agreed he wasn’t safe to be left alone with Jon.”
“I know, but this is only for a few hours – and I can fly us home at lunchtime to check up on him,” Clark replied. “And trust me, I’ll know immediately if Jon so much as hiccoughs,” he added. He closed his eyes briefly. “His heartbeat is with me everywhere I go,” he confessed huskily, revealing an intensity and depth to his relationship with Jon she’d never previously suspected.
“Clark!” she exclaimed softly, temporarily forgetting their disagreement. She lifted a hand to his cheek. If they had to give Jon away...
“I know,” he replied with a lop-sided smile. “I’d just have to find a way to cope, I guess.”
He looked as torn up inside as she felt herself. Up until this moment, she realised she hadn’t really appreciated how badly this was affecting him. She slid her arms around his body and rested her cheek on his chest. “Why is this happening to us?” she murmured. “What did we do in our past lives that was so bad?”
“I don’t know, honey. But I do understand how a father feels about his son,” he said. “That’s why I think we should give CK a chance.”
Trust Clark to put himself in CK’s position and want to help the guy overcome his troubles. That was part of why she loved him, she supposed. But if he was taking CK’s side in this, it was up to her to be the voice of reason on behalf of both of them. The trouble was, she agreed with Clark for the most part. Yes, he was Superman, and yes, he could fly home at a moment’s notice. Logically, she could see how Jon wouldn’t be in any danger whatsoever.
Emotionally, though, she felt very shaky about entrusting CK with Jon’s care for a whole day. There were plenty of ways to hurt a baby which didn’t involve physical harm – and poor Jon had only just arrived home from Smallville. He needed a little stability in his life; he was used to the day-care people and Lois knew they took good care of him.
She lifted her head from Clark’s chest. “I can’t do it, Clark,” she whispered, looking up into his face. “I’m sorry – I know you want to help CK, but I just can’t trust him that far yet. Maybe tomorrow, or the next day...” She felt a tear run down the side of her face.
“Lois,” he murmured, drawing her back into his body. “I’m sorry too – sorry for this whole mess and how much it’s upsetting you. It’s okay – we’ll tell CK it’s too soon and we need a little longer before we can let him take Jon for a whole day.”
“But he’s holding Jon and he won’t give him back,” she protested feebly.
“He’s not a monster, honey,” said Clark gently. “Come on, let’s go tell him.”
“You don’t have to,” said CK from behind her. She turned, and found him holding out Jon to her. “Here.”
A wave of relief washed over her as she took Jon into her arms and hugged him tightly. All of a sudden, her fears seemed silly and irrational, and she looked at CK guiltily. “You...you heard?”
His face was tight. “Enough to know I was doing more harm than good. I’m sorry if I frightened you.”
She gave him an apologetic look. “I was probably being irrational...you’ll find that being a parent does that to you. I used to be a pretty sane individual before Jon came along.” She kissed Jon’s head fondly.
“Honey, we really must get going,” urged Clark. “Perry will be having kittens by the time we get to work.”
She nodded, giving CK a final glance of contrition before hurrying to the door with Clark.
************
The door slammed shut and he was alone again. It was odd how quickly he’d gotten used to having company and how much he missed it when it was taken away from him again. He didn’t even get on particularly well with Lois and Clark; the atmosphere was constantly strained and conversation awkward. If he’d been back on New Krypton, he would have welcomed the chance to escape and indulge in a little selfish solitude.
But their personalities – and Jon’s – filled the house, and when they were gone, it seemed empty and cold. So, instead, he was alone with his thoughts and memories, because that was all he had these days. He had no future; he couldn’t make plans or preparations, because until he knew whether his life was to include Jon or not, there was no point in looking ahead.
He found himself at the living room window, looking out onto the world like a caged animal. This was where he’d ended up yesterday. Was today to be an exact repeat of that? How appropriate, if it was – he had no future, therefore he was condemned to re-live the same day over and over again.
But he couldn’t bear the thought of another day like yesterday. Contemplating the futility of his own existence had edged him dangerously close to a place he didn’t want to return to – at least, not while he was able to spend any time at all with his son.
Jon. He’d been much calmer today, and feeding him his breakfast had been so...well, so wonderfully normal. For a while, he’d been able to pretend they were a real family. It had seemed natural, after they’d got on so well together, to suggest that Jon remain at home with his father. What could be more reasonable, after all, than to offer to relieve Lois and Clark the burden of ferrying Jon to and from the day-care centre? Instead of strangers, he’d be with his Dad for the day.
He snorted. Who was he kidding? He was the stranger here, and everyone – including Jon – knew it. He’d been tolerated, because he was offering food and the baby had been hungry.
He turned away from the window. He had to get out of here. Anywhere would do, as long as it wasn’t filled with the presence of his absent son.
**********
Lois kicked the front door shut, her hands full of Jon, his diaper bag, and both hers and Clark’s work cases. Superman had been called away just as they’d been getting ready to leave the Planet, so she’d been left to get herself and Jon home in the jeep. Clark would arrive later, whenever he could get away. She sighed – just where was that third hand when you needed it most? She fumbled the interior door open somehow and entered the living room, steeling herself for another verbal sparring match with their house guest.
To her relief, he wasn’t there. Maybe he was out walking somewhere. She dumped the bags on the floor and crossed to the kitchen. Clark would fix dinner for the adults when he came home, but in the meantime, she could feed Jon.
A wonderful, tantalising smell wafted towards her as she opened the kitchen door. Entering, she found CK bent over the counter, chopping salad vegetables. From the warmth in the room, she could tell that the oven was on, and judging by the array of dirty pots and pans around the sink, whatever was in the oven had been made from scratch by CK himself.
Impressed, she stepped further into the kitchen with Jon. CK looked up as she entered. “Hi. I hope you don’t mind – I wasn’t sure what you and Clark had planned for dinner so I just used what I could find.”
She shook her head. “Not at all – it smells great. What is it?”
“Lasagne.” He shrugged. “It was about the only thing I could still remember how to make which fit the ingredients available. I hope you both like it.”
“You bet! Um...Clark might be a little late. He had to go help at a freeway pile-up.”
“Well, it’s not ready yet anyway – I only thought of doing this half an hour ago.” He turned back to the chopping board to continue preparing his salad.
She watched him for a few moments, wondering why something didn’t look right about the way he was working. It took her a few seconds, but then she had it. “I thought you had your powers back,” she said.
He glanced at her in surprise. “Yeah, I do. So what?”
“I just wondered...” She let her gaze drift over the chopping board and the knife in his hand, but when she looked at his face, it was clear that he viewed her unspoken comment as an unwelcome intrusion. “Nothing,” she finished, letting the subject drop. Obviously she’d touched a nerve, though quite why he should be so touchy about the casual use of his powers, she wasn’t sure.
“I’ll feed Jon while you’re finishing that,” she said, retreating to safer matters. “Come on, trouble,” she said to Jon. “Let’s get you into your chair.”
She swung Jon down from her hip and lowered him into the high chair. Immediately, Jon started to bang his tray excitedly with his hands, clearly very happy that he was about to be fed. Suddenly CK was beside her. “How about I strap him in while you fix his dinner?”
She straightened up, mildly irritated by his offer to help with a task which would take around two seconds to complete. His eagerness to help with Jon was already starting to get on her nerves, and they’d only been in the same room as each other for about ten minutes. “Sure,” she replied, forcing herself to be pleasant. “Whatever.”
Ten minutes later, CK was offering to feed Jon his dinner as she carried it over to the high chair. She looked pointedly across the room. “I thought you had a salad to finish.”
He stiffened. “I guess I do.” He went back to his chopping board, and she settled down next to Jon with his dinner. Okay, so he wanted to get involved with Jon’s care, but didn’t she also have a right to spend time with her baby?
When she dropped a spot of food on the floor, there he was again, quickly mopping it up for her. This was becoming annoying. She gave him a quick smile that was probably more of a grimace than an expression of thanks. He nodded warily and retreated.
Jon was almost finished when CK drew up a chair and sat opposite her. “Look, I know this is difficult for both of us,” he said. “But can’t we find a way to make this work so we’re not jumping at each other’s throats all the time?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He leant forward. “I mean you and I fighting over who gets to feed Jon – for example. I thought we agreed I was going to help.”
“Sure,” she replied. “I thought we did, too.”
He frowned. “So what’s the problem?”
She popped another mouthful into Jon. “No problem.”
“But...” He expelled air with a frustrated sigh.
She laid Jon’s spoon down and gave CK a look. “Don’t crowd me, CK. I’m doing my best to be nice and give you time with Jon, but I can’t do that if you’re constantly butting in and trying to take over all the time.”
His expression hardened. “I’m not trying to take over,” he protested.
“Yes, you are. You wanted him for the whole day today, remember?” At least he had the grace to look guilty over that one, she noted. She continued, “And now I feel like I can’t move without you rushing in and offering to help.”
CK looked like he was about to object to that, too, but anything he’d been about to say was forestalled by Jon, who gave a frustrated cry for attention. “Sorry, sweetie,” she said, picking up the spoon again and shovelling the last couple of mouthfuls into him.
She turned back to CK, who was gazing fondly at Jon. “I will let you help, I promise - believe me, I plan to make you help plenty! Just...wait to be asked, okay?”
She knew he wouldn’t like being told to wait, and sure enough, he shook his head bitterly. “Everything always has to be on your terms, doesn’t it?” he muttered. She considered responding to that, but then he sighed heavily. “Okay, I’ll be good. I won’t help unless you ask me to – and I am sorry about this morning. I never intended to frighten you.”
“Okay, apology accepted.” So his feelings were hurt, but that was tough. If she hadn’t put him straight on the kind of deal they had, they really would have been at each other’s throats. She glanced at her watch. “How much longer until that lasagne of yours is ready?”
“About half an hour.”
“Well, hopefully Clark will be back by then. In the meantime, how about you and I open a bottle of wine and take Jon next door? You can tell me what you did today.”
He gave her a troubled look.
“What?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Might be a short conversation, that’s all.”
Somehow, she suspected he wasn’t being totally honest with her. Clark did exactly the same thing; gave her a hint of trouble, and then pretended everything was fine. It was probably a guy thing – they couldn’t come straight out with a cry for help, they needed you to pick up on some tiny clue and then read their minds to figure out the rest.
Well, she was an expert at winkling out the truth from Clark, so CK should be a walkover.
************
On his umpteenth flight back from the hospital to the freeway accident, Clark hovered a moment over the scene of devastation below him. He’d seen too many of these pile-ups. He could now rate them on a scale of one to ten, according to the body count and the severity of injuries sustained by drivers and their passengers. Number of vehicles involved was a factor, but it wasn’t the most important one – it all depended on the weather, how fast the traffic had been moving, and how many people had bothered to buckle up.
This one rated an eleven, he thought wearily. So many of the cars were tightly concertinaed into each other, it was almost impossible to tell them apart in some places. In the centre of the pile-up, a truck had jack-knifed, broken through the crash barriers and plummeted off the edge of the road to the river beneath. No-one, including Superman, had found the driver yet. Clark suspected they might have to look in several places.
He was tired. Bone-achingly tired...well, he was sure the ache was just his imagination, but he knew his weariness was genuine. Usually, he was able to deal with one of these accidents pretty easily, but the stress from worrying about their future with Jon was definitely getting to him.
He sighed and swooped down to commence the search for dead bodies.
************
“Oh, no!” cried out CK in mock dismay, as Jon knocked over his carefully constructed tower of wooden blocks. “That’s the third time, buddy. One more strike and you’re out.”
As he began all over again, Lois remarked from the sofa, “I thought it was three strikes and you’re out.”
CK shrugged. “Well, he can’t count yet, so I’m cutting him some slack.”
She laughed. It was good to see him display some humour at last. He was a much more attractive person when he lightened up a little – more like Clark.
He’d been tentative at first. She’d set Jon down on the carpet and given him a few toys to play with, and for a time she and CK had watched him from the sofas whilst sipping the wine she’d opened. Then CK had slid off onto the floor with a quick glance at Lois.
“Do you mind?” he’d asked.
“No,” she’d replied, waving her wine glass generously. “Go ahead.”
So he’d joined Jon on the carpet and gently engaged the baby in little games with his toys. At first it had been simple games of give and take, but gradually he’d become more boisterous, and now he was nearing the top of his fourth tower of building blocks, setting each block carefully on top of the last while keeping a playfully wary gaze on Jon.
Suddenly Jon giggled and lunged forward with an arm to swipe the tower away, scattering blocks all over the carpet. CK laughed. “He’s certainly got a strong right hook,” he observed.
“Yes. Clark and I were wondering when he might start showing signs of ‘super’ strength,” said Lois. “Although Clark didn’t develop any powers until he was around five, according to his Mom. What about you?”
He shrugged. “About the same.” His smile faded, and after an awkward moment of stillness, he turned away from her and began collecting up the scattered blocks. Again, Lois was left with the sense that he resented his powers. She didn’t know why, but she was determined to get to the bottom of it sooner or later. If, and it was a very big ‘if’ as far as she was concerned, they ended up handing Jon over to CK, she wanted to know that Jon was going to grow up with a man who was at ease with his unique gifts. Jon would probably develop the same powers as CK, after all, and she would hate for him to be taught that they were a curse. He needed lots of positive encouragement, just the same as Clark had received from his parents.
“I’m not Clark,” CK said abruptly, his back still turned to her. “Don’t confuse me with him.”
Lois reflected that she was never likely to do that, since CK was so entirely different to her husband. Wondering exactly what he had meant by the remark, she prompted him to explain himself.
“These...powers – special abilities...call them what you like...they’re not part of who I am any more,” he said. “I left all that behind when I went to fight a war on New Krypton.” He abandoned the pile of blocks and leant his back up against the base of the sofa. “There wasn’t any place for the person I’d been on Earth. Instead, I became Kal-El, leader of the New Kryptonian war machine,” he said harshly.
“And Kal-El didn’t have powers,” she said, nodding her understanding. CK associated his powers with an earlier version of himself; a more innocent person who had cherished ideals of humanity and generosity of spirit.
“Oh, he had powers,” replied CK bitterly. “The power to kill, the power to send men and women to their deaths, to orphan children...plenty of powers.”
“But at least you were fighting for a good cause,” she suggested.
He snorted. “Maybe. I got so I wasn’t sure any more, towards the end. All we seemed to do was plan more campaigns, more strategies – there was never any sense that we were trying to resolve anything.”
“You must have hated it,” she said.
“Yeah. It was almost a relief when I was too sick to attend war council meetings.” He closed his eyes. “Anyway, that’s why the powers aren’t part of me any more. I only use them to shave because I have to. Otherwise they belong to the guy who saved people’s lives and...and had a fantastic girlfriend named Lois Lane.”
His voice caught on her name. Lois felt strange, knowing that this prickly, sad man before her had been her twin’s boyfriend. He was so unlike Clark, despite the physical resemblance, that she couldn’t imagine herself ever falling for him the same way she’d fallen for Clark. Perhaps, of course, the other Lois had been quite different to herself. “Tell me about her, CK,” she said softly. “What was she like?”
A wave of pain crossed his face and he bowed his head, hiding his expression from her. Her heart went out to him – his sorrow never seemed to be far from the surface. She imagined it continually returning to him, often when he least expected it. “Was she like me?” she asked, wanting to encourage him to talk. “Cranky, knows her own mind, doesn’t suffer fools? Tell me, CK.”
“Wonderful,” he replied huskily, his head still bowed. “She was wonderful. And brilliant. Funny...full of life.” His made a sound half-way between a laugh and a sob. “Obstinate, of course.”
“Not at all like me, then,” she joked, but he didn’t seem to hear her.
“We got engaged just before I had to leave,” he continued in a low voice. “We’d planned to get married in a couple of months, although she’d joked that we should just elope and get it over and done with. Her Mom, you see, had already gone into wedding overdrive and was booking doves and hand-bell ringers by the truck-load. She and her Mom didn’t exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things. I told her I’d marry her anywhere, any place, any time, but then she decided she’d go through with the wedding after all - do it her own way, just to show her Mom.” He looked up, his face streaked with tears. “Obstinate, you see?”
She found herself acutely affected by his distress; a lump was forming in her throat and the hand holding her wine glass was trembling. Perhaps it was because she could so easily imagine Clark in this state if she ever...disappeared – he’d already shown her a glimpse of the pain he’d suffer when he’d merely dreamt about losing her.
But it wouldn’t do any good if both she and CK fell apart over this. The best thing she could do for him was to hang on to her composure and keep him talking. She nodded. “But there’s nothing wrong in wanting to plan your wedding your own way,” she said encouragingly.
“No. Nothing at all.” He drew in a shaky breath. “I really loved her, you know.”
“I can see that, CK,” she said gently. “And it’s good you’re starting to talk about her. You should do it more often, instead of bottling everything up inside.” She sipped her wine. “Tell me how you first met.”
And so, haltingly, he told her a largely familiar story of first meetings, of work assignments which threw them together on a regular basis, of the first date, of arguments and reconciliations, and many more dates after that.
“Did she know you were Superman?” she asked, very curious about this particular issue. She glanced over at Jon, who was sitting quietly amidst his toys, apparently testing out how edible each of them were by stuffing them into his mouth. Well, that was okay; there was nothing there that would present a choking hazard. She looked back at CK.
“Not at first,” he replied. “She was the one who gave me the idea for Superman, but I didn’t tell her at the start. I was scared I’d lose her if she knew I was...different. But then it got harder not to tell her than to keep it a secret.”
Lois raised her eyebrows; this was interesting. Apparently CK had told his Lois a lot sooner than Clark had managed to tell her. “How did she take it?”
“Better than I’d hoped. Much better.” His face crumpled and he bowed his head again. “Can we talk about something else now?” he said roughly.
“Okay,” she said. Deciding to give him a few moments to rein in his emotions, she laid down her wine glass and collected up Jon to sit him in her lap. She’d have to put him to bed soon, but she was really hoping Clark would make it back before then; he needed to spend some time with his baby son just as much as she did. In the meantime, it felt good to hold Jon’s warm little body close to hers – at least, while he was so content and well-behaved, she reflected ruefully.
She was disappointed that CK had wanted to change the subject just when things were getting interesting, but understood that he’d clearly had enough for the present. Maybe she could bring him back to their previous topic of conversation. “Let’s go back to your powers,” she suggested. “Tell me, are you saying you don’t think you’re a good enough person to use them?”
He shook his head. “No, not exactly.”
“That’s what it sounds like to me – and it’s a pretty dumb reason, if you ask me,” she told him.
His head shot up, his expression angry and defensive. “Just leave it, okay?” he replied brusquely. “You don’t know what I’ve been through – what I’ve become.”
Her hackles rose immediately. “No, I won’t just leave it, CK,” she replied vehemently. “I can’t. One of these days, this child is going to develop the same powers that you have, and if you think I’m going to let him grow up in a home where his abilities are ignored, or worse still, suppressed, then you may as well go home right now! You’d be his role model, as his father, so you better start acting like one real soon.”
***********
Clark paused with his hand on the door handle of the living room. He’d landed a couple of streets away, spun back into his own clothes and finished the journey home on foot as himself. As far as the neighbours were concerned, Clark Kent was returning home late from work.
He sighed. It sounded like Lois and CK were arguing yet again. He wasn’t up to this tonight; the freeway pile-up had left him weary and a bit down, and what he really needed was some time with Jon followed by a quiet dinner with his wife. He did not feel like acting as adjudicator in another fight between Lois and their house guest.
He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. “Hi, guys,” he said pleasantly. “Sorry I’m so late.”
He was a little surprised to find CK sitting on the carpet while Lois was on the sofa with Jon, but less surprised to detect the distinctly icy atmosphere between the two. He crossed to Lois and bent to kiss her on the cheek. “Hi, honey. Everything okay?” He ruffled a hand absently over Jon’s head.
“Yes, fine,” she replied without conviction.
“I’ll check on dinner,” announced CK abruptly, unfolding himself from the floor and heading for the kitchen without even a glance at Clark.
Clark watched his departing back, then raised an eyebrow at Lois. “Dinner?”
“Yeah, he made it – lasagne and salad. It smells really good, actually,” she replied.
“Well, that’s kind of him – to cook us dinner, I mean,” he said, sinking down onto the sofa beside her.
“I suppose so.”
He plucked Jon from her lap and held him up before him. “Hiya, buddy!” he said, planting a noisy kiss on the baby’s tummy. Jon giggled with delight, so he repeated the trick and elicited another burst of bubbly giggles. At least one member of the family was happy...Clark plunked Jon down in his lap and gave him his keys to play with.
“I heard you and CK talking,” he murmured to Lois. “Without the benefit of superhearing,” he added.
She grimaced. “He’s wallowing, Clark. He’s more interested in his own personal hang-ups than being a father to Jon.”
“Give him time, honey. He’s got a lot of adjusting to do,” he suggested.
“Maybe so, but he did ask to be Jon’s father,” she replied. “He’s got to realise there’s more to being a father than just genetics.”
“I’m sure he does,” he replied.
“Well, he’d better start proving to me real soon that he does. Right now, I’m no nearer to being convinced that he’d give Jon a good home than I was when we first met him.” She sighed. “Anyway, enough of him. How are you? How was the pile-up?”
“Pretty bad,” he admitted. “There were a lot of fatalities.”
“But you managed to rescue some people?”
He shrugged. “Yeah.”
She reached up and swept a gentle hand through his hair. “You sound tired,” she commented, her eyebrows knitting together in a small frown.
He gave her a weak smile. “Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure.”
She leant over and pressed her lips to his, drawing him into a long, slow kiss. He responded in kind, savouring every nano-second of the intimate moment. They’d been neglecting each other, he realised. CK and his problems had drawn their attention away from their marriage, making them forget to take time out for moments like this.
“Shame we can’t take this further,” she murmured, her mouth still tantalisingly close to his lips.
“Mmmm,” he replied, slanting his mouth over hers again. “How about we ask CK to babysit for a couple of hours?”
“A couple of hours?” she repeated. “I thought you said you were tired.”
“I’m not suggesting the bedroom equivalent of the Olympic games,” he said. “Just some long, slow loving.”
“Oh, if only...” she replied dreamily. “Unfortunately, my acute sense of smell is telling me that someone needs their diaper changing, and we have a grumpy house-guest waiting to serve us his carefully-prepared dinner.”
Clark chuckled softly. “You say the most romantic things, honey. Okay, whose turn is it?”
“CK’s?” she suggested with a wink.
“Lo-is,” he protested. “The guy’s already slaving over a hot stove for us.”
She shrugged. “If he wants to be a parent, then multi-tasking comes with the territory. Come on, you,” she said to Jon, picking him up. “Let’s see what Uncle CK is doing in the kitchen.”
Clark sighed and let himself sink wearily back into the sofa cushions for a few moments. What he wouldn’t give for an early night with Lois. Even if they just snuggled up together in bed for a while and didn’t do anything more adventurous than kiss each other, he’d be happy. He really felt tired tonight.
***********
“That was really good, CK!” exclaimed Lois, placing her fork on the empty plate.
He nodded his thanks. Dinner had been a surprising success, and he was feeling better than he had all day. For once, all three of them had managed to conduct a civil conversation, mostly by carefully skirting around any topics they didn’t see eye to eye on. That had left plenty to talk about, and he’d been grateful to be part of a normal dinner-table discussion for the first time since leaving for New Krypton.
He also appreciated how much time they were allowing him with Jon. After dinner, he was going to bath Jon and put him to bed, and he’d already been shown how to change his diaper and had his daily schedule explained in detail. He really felt as if he was starting to develop a bond with his son.
If only he didn’t have to spend all day on his own again. Today had dragged terribly. He’d tried reading some of Lois and Clark’s extensive library of books, but found he couldn’t concentrate for more than a few pages at a time. He’d watched TV for a while, but the paucity of day-time TV had soon driven him away. He’d dozed off a couple of times, but had awoken sweating and breathless each time, jerked out of the nightmare of war by images so vivid he’d smelt the blood and tasted the fear.
He desperately needed something to do; something to save him from himself.
*************
Lois awoke to the unpleasant and upsetting sound of someone retching in their bathroom. CK, she supposed. Odd – she’d thought he was recovered from his illness. Perhaps he wasn’t used to Earth food yet; maybe he should have cooked something more simple than lasagne.
She wondered whether she should go check on him, but decided on balance that he’d probably prefer it if she left him alone.
Or maybe she should send Clark. She rolled over to rouse him, but found his side of the bed empty. Great – he was out on Superman duty.
Well, she was sure CK wouldn’t welcome her at his side while he was ill, and he probably just had an upset stomach, so she’d leave it. If Clark came back before she was asleep again, she’d mention it to him.
She’d just managed to drift down into that cosy half-conscious world of almost-sleep when she felt the bed dip on Clark’s side. Pulling herself back up to wakefulness, she murmured, “Honey, do you mind checking on CK? He sounded pretty sick in the bathroom a few minutes ago.”
There was a moment of stillness from the other side of the bed, then Clark replied huskily, “That wasn’t CK, it was me.”
Her heart did a loud thump. He was sick? Suddenly in full worry mode, she quickly switched on the bedside light and turned back to him. He looked awful; there was almost no colour in his cheeks and a thin film of sweat covered his forehead – even his hair was tousled and damp. “Oh, Clark,” she exclaimed softly. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
He grimaced. “There wasn’t time.”
She bit her lip while she digested that piece of information. Given his lack of experience with illness, she supposed he probably hadn’t recognised the warning signs until it was almost too late. “How do you feel now?” she asked, gently brushing his damp hair away from his forehead and then resting her hand there to check his temperature. He felt warm and clammy, but she wasn’t sure if he was running a temperature or not.
“Pretty rough, actually,” he replied miserably. “My stomach’s churning and my head hurts.”
She fought down the urge to panic, but it was difficult – he wasn’t usually this forthcoming when he was ill, so if he was actually admitting he felt horrible, then he really must be sick. “When did this start? You didn’t mention anything earlier.”
“I thought it would pass,” he said. “And I didn’t feel so bad then.”
“So it started before we went to bed?” she asked, a little annoyed with him for not telling her. When would he ever learn to share these things with her?
“Yeah. I felt queasy sometime after we had coffee, to be honest. But nothing like this,” he said, rolling restlessly onto his side. “I can’t even seem to lie still for very long.”
He really sounded wretched, she thought, stroking his arm and shoulder soothingly. “Is there anything I can get you? A glass of water, maybe?”
He shook his head slowly. “No, but thanks,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “I just want to get some sleep.”
“Okay,” she said. “You do that.”
This was CK’s fault. There was no other way Clark could have fallen sick, if kryptonite wasn’t involved. CK had passed his illness onto Clark, just as she’d feared he might. A memory flashed past of Clark lying in a coma because of a Kryptonian virus – please don’t let this be so bad, she thought, offering up a quick prayer to the fates. Not that there was any reason to think that it would be, she told herself, since CK obviously wasn’t at death’s door. But it puzzled her that Clark was nauseous; CK had been coughing a lot and had been running a temperature when he first arrived but he hadn’t mentioned any other symptoms. Of course, he hadn’t eaten much tonight, and Clark had told her he’d hardly eaten any breakfast, so maybe he had been sick and was now being careful with how much he ate. She’d have to ask him tomorrow.
She turned off the light and settled down uneasily beside Clark. After a few moments she sought his hand under the bedclothes and clasped it gently; who was comforting who, she wasn’t sure.
*************
Clark didn’t fall asleep quickly. They both lay awake in the darkness; she sensing his misery and discomfort and he presumably feeling wretched. Some time after they’d first spoken – she wasn’t sure how long – he was up again, and then after that, twice more. Each time she went with him and did her best to help him, but there was really very little she could do other than clean up afterwards and supply him with water and a toothbrush to freshen up with.
After their third visit to the bathroom, he was trembling and his skin was cold and clammy. He didn’t even bother to rise up from the floor and perch on the side of the bath like he had previously. She crouched down beside him and squeezed his shoulders. “Honey?” she prompted. “Are you ready to go back to bed?”
He nodded wearily, and together they stood slowly up. “My legs are shaking,” he murmured with a note of dejected surprise. Clearly he didn’t think Superman should be so weak and wobbly.
“Your body just got overloaded, that’s all,” she soothed. “You’ll feel better once you’re lying down.”
As she walked with him back to their bedroom, steadying him with a hand on his back, she thought she heard someone talking downstairs. “Clark, did you hear that?” she said.
“It’s CK,” he replied. “He does it every night.”
“Does what?”
“Talks in his sleep. I think he’s reliving the fighting on New Krypton,” he said.
She hadn’t realised. The poor guy must have been even more deeply scarred by the fighting on New Krypton that he’d admitted to either of them. No wonder he was so edgy.
He’d kept very quiet about New Krypton. This evening, when he’d spoken so bitterly of the war, had been the first time he’d said anything at all about it to Lois. He seemed to prefer talking about his Lois to her.
But Clark required her attention right now. She walked him around to his side of the bed, and when he was curled up under the covers, she perched on the edge.
“This sucks,” he muttered.
She almost smiled, it was such an un-Clark-like thing to say. “Do you want me to call Dr Klein? I’m sure we could come up with a plausible Superman story for him.”
“No, I’m sure it’ll pass eventually,” he answered. “I mean, CK’s all right, isn’t he?” he added after a pause.
“I guess so, but just remember you don’t have anything to prove here, okay? Just because he managed without medical help doesn’t mean you have to,” she pointed out.
“But it’ll be simpler if I do,” he said. “I’ll be fine, Lois. Let’s just try to get some sleep.”
She bent down and kissed his cheek. “Okay.”
But what about Jon? If Clark was sick, was it only a matter of time before Jon fell ill, too? A stab of fear knifed through her. A small baby could become seriously ill from a thing like this. Should they get Jon checked over? Should they send him away again?
No. It was too late for that – Jon had been in contact with Clark too much for it to be worthwhile isolating him now. They’d just have to hope Clark hadn’t passed it on.
***********
Morning dawned eventually and Clark awoke slowly, reluctantly letting go of the comfort of sleep. As he surfaced, memories of his miserable night returned to him, and with that came an awareness of the lassitude and queasiness still with him. He felt exhausted, despite having turned in relatively early the previous night.
But today was a work day, so he dragged himself slowly out of bed and through his usual morning routine. Lois was ahead of him, presumably already downstairs and eating breakfast with CK and Jon. No matter – he’d probably skip breakfast today anyway.
Finally, he was dressed in his suit and tie. Any hope of feeling better after getting ready for work was dashed; he felt weak, wobbly and about as strong as a limp piece of celery. It was really pretty disturbing to feel so washed-out and sick – they weren’t sensations he was at all familiar with. He decided the best way to deal with it was to ignore it as far as possible. Mind over matter.
Downstairs, he walked into the kitchen to find Lois leaning up against the counter drinking coffee and eating toast. CK was sitting at the table feeding Jon his breakfast.
“Morning,” he said, announcing himself quietly.
“Clark!” exclaimed Lois, pushing herself off the counter and coming towards him. “I thought you’d be asleep for hours. How do you feel?”
He shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” He crossed to the table and sat down opposite Jon and CK. “Hiya, sport,” he said to Jon with a wan smile and then added a nod to CK.
Lois had followed him to the table. She looked down at him, studying him with concern in her eyes. Then she felt his forehead. “You don’t look okay,” she pronounced. “You look terrible.”
“Gee, thanks, honey,” he murmured.
She sat down beside him. “No, really, Clark – I honestly don’t think you should go to work today. You hardly had any sleep last night and you’re still very pale.”
He had to admit, the prospect of staying at home for the day was pretty attractive. But he was practising mind over matter, wasn’t he? And he’d probably feel worse if he gave in to this thing instead of ignoring it. “I’ll be okay, honey. I probably look worse than I feel.”
“Maybe, but even if you feel a tenth as bad as you look, you’re still not well. I can see it in your eyes. Give yourself a break,” she said, “and take the day off. You’ll feel better sooner if you do.”
He shook his head. “Perry’s counting on me to finish that homeless story for him today, and there’s a mountain of work to get through on the Schreiber investigation. If I don’t finish it today-“
“Clark, it can wait,” interrupted his wife calmly with a hand on his arm. “Perry didn’t get to be editor-in-chief without learning how to cope with the unexpected. I’m sure he’d be the first to tell you to stay home if he saw you right now.” She patted his arm. “Why don’t you try to eat a little breakfast and then go back to bed for a while?”
He screwed up his face. “I’ll pass on breakfast, thanks.”
“But you’ll stay at home?”
He didn’t answer immediately, and then CK spoke up. “I’d listen to Lois if I were you,” he said. “You won’t feel like working, believe me.”
Clark eyed his double. “You fought a war while you were sick.”
“Only because I had to! Plus I was medicated up to my eyeballs most of the time and even then I collapsed.” CK pointed Jon’s spoon at Lois. “Listen to your wife and stay home.”
Clark sighed. He possessed neither the energy or the will to resist the two of them, and a day at home was becoming more and more attractive. “Okay,” he said. “I guess I can always do some work on the laptop.”
“You’ll do no such thing!” Lois replied briskly. “You’ll rest and get as much sleep as you can. And are you sure about breakfast? Maybe some plain toast might help settle things down.”
“I wouldn’t advise it,” said CK. “I couldn’t keep anything down for the first couple of days.” He shrugged apologetically. “I’m really sorry I’ve passed this thing on to you, Clark. It’s not much fun.”
Clark grimaced, not at all happy with the prospect of being ill for longer than a day or so – he’d always recovered quickly and easily from the injuries and very infrequent illnesses he’d suffered in the past. “So when does the cough start?”
CK shrugged. “I don’t recall. Just drink a lot and rest as much as you can. You won’t feel like doing much else.” He turned back to Jon for a moment, then paused and looked up at Lois. “Of course, you’ll want to send Jon away, won’t you?”
Clark’s already-queasy stomach lurched and for a moment he wondered if he should make a nimble exit to the bathroom. He hadn’t thought of the renewed risk to Jon at all! Maybe CK could fly him to Smallville – or perhaps they should take him to Dr Klein for-
“It’s not the same this time,” replied Lois. “Clark’s already had so much contact with Jon, it won’t make any difference if-“
“But you can’t be sure, can you?” interrupted CK, obviously warming to his subject. “Maybe I should take him home with me for a few days until Clark recovers.”
Clark groaned inwardly and rested his head on his hands with his eyes closed. He really didn’t feel up to a battle with CK this morning. Couldn’t the guy ever give it a rest? “No,” he said flatly. “You are not going anywhere with Jon.”
“But it’s the perfect solution-“
“No means no, CK,” warned Clark. “Just leave it, okay?”
There was a long silence, during which Clark realised he’d spoken more loudly and harshly than he’d intended. Then he felt Lois squeeze his shoulders. “I’ll take Jon to the crèche at the Planet,” she murmured in his ear. “Don’t worry about it, honey.”
He nodded, happy to leave Lois in command of the situation. As she’d pointed out, it was too late to isolate Jon from Clark’s illness, but at least at the crèche he’d receive good care and Clark wouldn’t have to look after a demanding baby while he was fighting off this thing.
“And you,” she said, raising her voice and presumably addressing CK, “can look after Clark and make sure he rests.” He felt her stroke the side of his face. “You’ll be all right here, won’t you? I’d stay, but Perry really will go crazy if neither of us turns up for work.”
He nodded again. “I’ll be fine.”
***************
CK eyed his companion over the top of the book he was attempting to read. Clark had rested upstairs all morning, but at around lunchtime he’d appeared in the living room, saying he was feeling a little better and wanting to catch up on the news. They’d switched on the TV, and afterwards, Clark had remained, flicking through the channels until he found some football to watch.
That had been around an hour ago, and now Clark appeared to be dozing where he sat, oblivious of the rowdy game going on in front of him.
Personally, CK found his book more interesting than the game, which was merely an annoying background noise. If Clark wasn’t watching either...he stood up and turned the TV off.
Clark stirred immediately, rubbing his eyes and stretching wearily. “What time is it?” he asked hazily.
“Around two. Do you want me to get y
