Yay! Skirky's back and so is Darkest Dreams!
Sorry to come in a little late with fdk. The last couple of days have been crazy!
Was he just staring at the air, like most people did, or was there something deep, deep down under the hard black road that he found so deeply distracting? Molten lava bubbles or something?
Molten lava bubbles! I found this deeply amusing.
She wanted Clark to come clean. Today.
I hope someone comes clean soon!
“Clark, I—I have to tell you—” She had to tell him. “I-I broke into your apartment yesterday.”
No, no, no! Lois, you were supose to say "I know you're Superman." Pretty please?
You've got to love kids! I loved this scene with Clark interacting with the kids. You did a marvelous job of making their character's come to life. And what a name for a cat! Zupie...when I get a cat someday I might just steal that name.
“Six months ago Julia was diagnosed with Leukemia.
We did everything we could. In his work, Mike was among the best, and he had connections. We took her to experts—the best in the field, and in the world of medicine but they all said the same thing: her case was terminal, and there was n-nothing they could do for her.”
“We watched our little daughter waste away. She . . . she was so small . . . so weak. Just a little child, who should have . . . been worrying about nothing but . . . flowers. Rain. Sunshine. But . . . there was nothing we could do but watch her . . . die.” The last word was in a bare whisper.
This is heart breaking.
“Mike . . . he dedicated his life to finding a cure,” Mrs. Logram continued. “Spent less time at home. N-near the end, he said he was working on a project that would heal her. He . . . he seemed so determined I . . . I just prayed he would be right. That it would work. ”
“And it did,” Clark whispered, remembering the active, lively and healthy child he had rescued from the tree only a few minutes before. “It did work.”
Mrs. Logram nodded tearfully. “He . . . he disappeared, three weeks ago. He just didn’t come home from work. It wasn’t too unusual. I just thought he couldn’t bear to watch . . . little Julia. And he was working himself to death trying to save her. And she was so close, then. We were keeping her at home. We both knew the equipment, and . . . we wanted her to . . . be at home, when the time came.”
I just had to quote all of this, because it really packs a punch. You can really feel Mrs. Logram's pain here.
She shifted Kevin on her lap and rubbed his back absently. “He came back on Wednesday—I remember it clearly, because it was the . . . the last time I saw him. He looked so tired . . . so exhausted. Almost . . . cold,” she whispered. “But . . . he slipped something into Julia’s IV before he left again—he said he couldn’t stay. He just . . . left a vial, and told me to give it to her in twelve hours. Whatever it was . . . it hurt my little baby. She was sick with fever, pain . . . but . . . the next morning she woke up and . . . it was over. The doctors could find no sign of cancer, and you can see her now, just two weeks later. It . . . it was a miracle.”
A miracle was born out of Clark's pain and suffering. I wonder if this little bit of information will offer him some form of comfort?
I just loved this part. It was well worth the wait. I'm anxiously waiting for the next.
