After a very long break...From Last time:
“Regarding, Ching, sir,” Trey began. “Perhaps it would be best for you to distance yourself from him.”
“Commander Ching has served with nothing but complete loyalty and honor. I will not betray him.”
“Sir, he has been accused of the most heinous crimes…”
“And I do not believe the charges. I know Commander Ching. I believe him when he says that he had nothing to do with the attack and I will do everything I can to ensure that he has a fair trial.”
“Sir, I understand your concern, but…”
“The subject is not open for discussion!” Clark snapped. He continued walking down the hall, noticing it took Trey a moment to recover and catch up. “We cannot get sidetracked. We have a lot to do.”
********
New Stuff:
Enza walked toward her office mentally organizing the myriad tasks that remained before her. An unwelcomed voice intruded on her ruminations. “Lieutenant Enza.” Her name seemed to slip off the oily tongue of Pelmon.
She tried to steady her voice to avoid allowing her disdain for him to shine through. “Yes, Pelmon, what can I do for you?” she asked, turning to face him. His beady eyes seemed to bore into her.
“I simply wanted to inquire as to the state of your work for the First Ministers.”
Enza frowned, trying to discern his angle. Pelmon wasn’t stupid, far from it, in fact. “My communications with the First Ministers are entirely confidential,” she replied.
Pelmon seemed taken aback. “But of course,” he stammered, though his bluster was far too polished to be real. “I merely wanted to determine whether or not you are enjoying your work. The word throughout the department is that you are performing quite well, but you should not neglect the future of your career. Perhaps you should consider working in the guild, Lieutenant. I’m sure we can find a place where someone of your talents can flourish.”
“Our world’s future is more important than my career, sir. Frankly, if our future is not secure, I hardly need to concern myself with my employment plans. I will keep my current position, but thank you for the offer.”
********
Swallowing roughly around the lump that had formed in his throat, Ching stood to face the panel of his accusers. He glanced around the empty, tomblike courtroom before turning toward the jurists who held his fate in their hands. He steeled his expression, his jaw sternly set, unwilling to show any emotion or fear.
“Lieutenant Commander Ching,” Pelmon announced, reading from a page held in his chubby hands. “We the jurists of New Krypton’s Legal Guild find sufficient evidence to bind you over for trial. Proceedings on the charges of war crimes, murder, assault, and crimes against humanity will begin post haste. Fal Ben of the Legal Guild has been assigned to aid you in your defense.”
Ching closed his eyes. The announcement was not a surprise, but he could not help but feel despondent. He stood silently, bleakness and despair festering deep within, growing by the moment, gnawing at him. For the first time in his life, he felt like he had nothing to fight for. This wasn’t a battle for his people, for the safety of his world, it was a battle to save his own skin and his heart wasn’t in it. Without his work, what was the point of his life? What else did he have to live for?
A firm hand wrapped itself around his arm and he felt himself being led out of the courtroom down the familiar hallways back to his cell. There was nothing left, he thought gloomily. Immediately after his arrest, Dek Ra had shown up at his cell, the young man insistent in his demands to see the incarcerated Lieutenant Commander.
He stood before Ching, barely more than a boy, demanding that Ching fight with all his strength and begging to be allowed to help. In response, Ching had merely pressed a letter into the cadet’s hands and quietly asked him to give it to Zara. He looked at the young man, so full of courage and conviction, and wished that he could share in his resolve, but Ching had already resigned himself to setting in order the relationships in his life, anticipating the likelihood that he would spend the rest of his life in prison, disgraced. In his letter, he’d asked Zara not to visit or contact him. He didn’t need to bring her any more controversy or danger.
She’d complied with his wish and they had not spoken since his arrest. Being away from her was always painful, but it was a pain with which he’d been intimately familiar for much of his adult life. He recalled his last conversation with her before being sent away many years before. Ching realized now that Tek Ra had been right to send him away. He knew that both he and Zara had needed time apart, time to mature and come to terms with their responsibilities.
Their last conversation before he’d left was burned into his memory. Hot headed and ruled by his passions, he’d declared to her, “I love you, I always will. Even if I can never say the words again, never doubt that I will love you for the rest of my life.” And for years, much to his expectations, he had been unable to tell her how he felt. Up until a few months prior, when they’d begun their relationship again, he hadn’t told her again that he loved her. He’d done his best to pretend the feelings weren’t there; knowing deep down inside that she knew his heart, even if he couldn’t put his feelings into words, made the charade easier to bear. He trusted that she still knew, that she was firm in her faith in his love for her and that nothing could ever shake that love. But that didn’t change the world they lived in. It was a world that no longer had any use for him. It no longer wanted his help or his service. There was no place in this world or in Zara’s life for him any more.
He stepped into his cell, hearing the loud echo of the metal door clanging behind him. Ching sat down on the hard bunk, staring blankly at the bare wall ahead of him.
********
Lois’s eyes snapped open at the first sounds of Jon’s whimpers. She flitted down the hallway to the nursery, picking her son up before his cries could grow louder and wake her in-laws. She settled into the rocker, crooning softly to him. “It’s okay, little guy, mommy’s here,” she murmured.
She gazed down at him as he nursed, her eyes blurred by a layer of unshed tears. Her sleep had been anything but peaceful. Her dreams had twisted and contorted themselves cruelly, turning into nightmares. During the day, she was able to ignore her fears, to bury them deep inside, lock them away and pretend that they didn’t exist. She was bigger than any fears, stronger than any doubts. She was Lois Lane, a force to be reckoned with. She didn’t excel, she didn’t thrive, but she managed. Lois pushed through her routine, she kept herself busy, she focused on her responsibilities, on the people who depended on her and that was how she made it from one minute to the next, one day to the next, and one week to the next.
During the day, she could hold everything together, barely, but together nonetheless. But at night, after everyone had gone to sleep and in between patrols and Jon’s feedings, that was when the doubts loomed large and the fears overshadowed her. In the darkness, she was the one hiding, cowering in a corner, in the darkness. She wasn’t in control. She didn’t sleep much, but even a superpowered being needed some rest. As soon as her guard was down, as soon as sleep claimed her, her fears, too, would strike. Trying not to be emotionally vulnerable twenty four hours a day was exhausting, and she couldn’t keep it up. She could maintain the façade during the day, but at some point, she was always forced to concede, to retreat.
Those concessions took the form of nightmares, creating stark, vivid images of everything she feared, but never voiced. A million and one unspeakable possibilities circulated in her mind, her imagination taking a turn for the perverse, her fears finding new and creative ways to torture her. She was so tired of horror stories in Technicolor, in the rage and impotence of believing with all her soul that Clark needed her, that he was in trouble, in danger, and she couldn’t do a thing to help him. In her darkest moments, moments that she never wanted another soul to see, she even wondered if he’d drawn his last breath, if he was gone, forever. She wanted to rail against the possibility, to believe with all her heart that he was still alive simply because he had to be. Because he was too important, not just to the world, but to her. Nothing could go on without him. Nothing worked without him.
He wasn’t dead, she’d remind herself firmly. She’d know. She’d know if something had happened to him. But would she really? What evidence did she have? What could she point to? He’d been gone ten months now and she had no idea what had happened to him in all of that time. She didn’t know what he was going through, or what he had seen. She couldn’t share his fears, help carry his burdens, or lessen his doubts. She wasn’t there for him. She couldn’t be.
Lois looked down at her son, the movement of her head causing the tears to finally spill over, rolling down her cheeks. She was so thankful to have him. He needed her, he needed her to keep going, every day, even when she didn’t want to, even when it felt like the very act of breathing was excruciating, even when the twin devils of fear and apathy threatened to pin her down, afraid to get up in the morning, unable to find a reason why it mattered. Every day, she fought the fear, and the numbness, and the pain, and the racking, intolerable feeling of uncertainty, because he needed her to. She didn’t have a choice in the matter any more.
She held Jon up against her shoulder, rocking gently back and forth in the chair. The deep, drowsy sound of his breathing let her know when he fell asleep. She laid him down in his crib, touching his head gently, his dark hair as soft as down under her fingers. Floating up off the ground, she drifted out of the nursery and then out of the farmhouse. In mid flight, she spun into the suit, preparing to head off to some distant part of the globe for an impromptu patrol. Sleep would be elusive and not particularly welcomed, and she needed a distraction. If she kept busy, if she kept going, without pausing to rest or doubt, maybe she could put some distance between her and fear, maybe she could outrun it. Maybe she was sprinting headlong into denial. She didn’t really care.
********
Trey paced nervously in the cramped confines of the transport. He peered out the window at the rust red landscape stretching out all around them. Moments earlier, the transport had touched down in this barren, desolate expanse of land, far from anything resembling civilization. Now, they could do nothing but wait until the other party to these talks arrived. He turned away from the window and glared down at Pelmon, who sat quiet and still. Pelmon certainly wasn’t the type to pace – it required the exertion of far too much physical effort. “I should not be here,” Trey muttered. “I go against everything I have sworn to uphold by taking part in this.”
Pelmon dabbed at his brow as was his habit. “What are your oaths worth if you allow blind protocol to prevent you from doing your duty? Your job is to protect the peace and secure our society. History will forgive you for taking liberties with the rules if the ends are just.”
Trey’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the corpulent little man. Pelmon had a way of subtly or not so subtly appealing to the vanity of his targets. He probably assumed that Trey, like other men and women who wielded great power and influence, was obsessed with concerns over how history would remember him. Trey dismissed the other man’s clumsy efforts. Pelmon should have known that he would be immune to such naked pandering to ego. “Your sophistry is wasted, counselor,” Trey bit back.
“Sophistry?” Pelmon suddenly looked ashen, as though he took deep offense. He was a better actor than Trey had suspected. “I am merely trying to convince you to do the right thing. It is time to set aside facile notions and consider the larger stakes. You can follow lockstep, do as your told, and watch your world burn because its leadership is too slow, too set in its ways and unwilling to adapt, or you can take the first courageous steps toward ending this senseless slaughter.”
Trey’s brow knitted in a frown. “By bargaining with those who lit the fire?”
“By negotiating with the only people who can put it out,” Pelmon countered.
Clouds of bright dust began to swirl up outside the craft, depositing fine sand on the window. Trey turned back to watch the other craft land nearby, its slowing engines stirring up the wind. Within moments, as the localized dust storm died down, the doors to the other craft opened and a small party emerged and started toward Trey’s ship.
“Since they are already here, we might as well at least listen to what they have to say,” Pelmon said almost mercurially.
The doors to the transport slid open silently and two burly guards entered first, followed closely by Rae Et, who appeared to glide effortlessly into the cabin of the ship. Her face was expressionless, but her eyes darted back and forth quickly as she surveyed her surroundings, like a predator sizing up the best way to tear apart its carefully chosen prey. “Good tidings to you both,” she said with a slight bow. She made no move to sit down or even remove her greatcoat.
Almost belatedly, two other men followed her into the ship. Fet Ri and Lok Dei bowed, but said nothing. They looked like chastised and sullen children as opposed to respected statesmen.
“We come on behalf of the governors and people of the Belaar Valley,” Rae Et began.
“What authority have you to speak on behalf of the governors?” Trey demanded. There was no point in standing upon ceremony. Going on the offensive would give him the best opportunity at understanding the dynamics of the situation and where exactly Rae Et had managed to ingratiate herself into a problem that should have been no concern of hers.
“The governors of the Belaar have asked us to represent them at this meeting,” Fet Ri chimed in, his voice dull and conveying no conviction.
“The Belaar’s demands are simple: stand down from its borders, respect its territorial integrity and airspace, and turn over the murderers of its people.”
“Commander Ching,” Trey replied. It wasn’t a question.
“Ching,” Rae Et practically spat out his name, “is responsible for the deaths of dozens of innocent men, women, and children. He must face justice.”
“You mean vengeance.”
Rae Et’s eyes narrowed. “What difference does it make?” she asked pointedly. “Either way, the man will get what he deserves and the people of the Belaar might be able to begin to believe your colony when it claims that it means them no harm.”
“Commander Ching is on trial in the colony. If found guilty, he will be appropriately punished,” Trey countered cautiously.
“Nonsense,” Rae Et snapped back. “Ching’s crimes were against the people of the Belaar. It is they who have the right to enforce justice, not you.”
“The tribunal may be swayed to allow extradition,” Pelmon piped up. Trey turned immediately to face the other man. “Upon a showing of good faith by the Belaar.”
“The Belaar takes umbrage at the notion that it is the one that needs to make a showing of good faith, but I assure you, that the Belaar Valley has no aggressive intentions and that that much should become apparent soon.” Rae Et turned her cold gaze to Trey. “Trey I expect you to encourage your First Ministers not to fight the extradition.”
“They will fight it regardless of what I say.”
“And I can promise you that the governors of the Belaar and I will be unable to control the responses of our people should that happen.
“Your people?” Trey snapped. “You’ve declared yourself an enemy to all of New Krypton’s people…”
“An enemy of the council, perhaps.” Rae Et arched a brow. “An enemy of the people, now I take umbrage at that characterization. If you refuse to extradite Ching, if you continue in this posture of belligerence, you will bring further unnecessary bloodshed.”
Trey bit back a sigh. They were at an unsurprising impasse. He hadn’t expected much to come out of the meeting, but the rather dire circumstances facing him had been painted in stark relief.
“I hope you give what was said here due consideration,” Rae Et said icily before turning and exiting the craft, her entourage in tow.
********
The wind swirled around the small group as it crossed the short distance between the two ships. “You know that Kal El and Zara will never hand over their most trusted advisor,” Fet Ri shouted over the wind, squinting to keep the particles of sand out of his eyes. The fine dust and sand stung his face, the unpleasant grit stuck between his teeth each time he tried to draw in a breath.
“I know that,” Rae Et replied impatiently, seemingly unaffected by the dust storm. “That is entirely the point.”
“You just want an excuse to intensify the fighting,” Fet Ri countered.
Rae Et’s silence spoke more than any verbal answer could have.
*******
“Sir, I am not certain this is a good idea.” The tone of her voice matched the nervousness of her words.
Clark leaned across the table toward his young advisor as he spoke. “You said yourself that Ching’s lawyer is hardly interested in being a zealous advocate, didn’t you?”
Enza nodded reluctantly. “Aye, sir, but I have never tried a case of this magnitude. Surely, there must be someone with more experience…”
“No one that I trust,” Clark interrupted. “All the experience in the world won’t do us any good if the lawyer is ethically compromised.”
“I have only served as assistant counsel in such trials. I am not even of the rank required to serve as principal counsel in a criminal defense,” Enza replied quietly. “One must be a captain before performing such a role.”
“That’s just one rank above yours. Consider yourself promoted.”
The young woman nearly leapt out of her seat in protest. “But sir…”
“Your work has been excellent and you would have been due for a promotion shortly in any event. Besides, I’m still the First Minister, aren’t I? I think routine promotions of officers are within my powers.”
“Of course, sir,” Enza replied uneasily.
“I know it’s a great responsibility,” Clark explained. “But I also know that you are more than capable.”
“I suppose that you of all people know what it is like to be faced with such awesome duties,” she replied thoughtfully.
“And to not feel equal to the task,” Clark admitted. “I wonder if I’m doing the right thing all the time, but all we can do is our best, and hope that it’s enough.”
“But if the tribunal is as corrupted as we fear…”
“On Earth, we would call this going to the court of public opinion. If we can prove Ching is innocent, the tribunal will be unable to bury the evidence.”
“It seems as though you have done this before,” Enza observed.
Clark found himself smiling. “Not this exact thing, but something similar. I still need you to take the lead on this. I don’t know the procedures, or the protocol.”
“Besides, it is not safe for you to take too active a role in the proceedings.”
“You’re right,” Clark replied. “Now, we have the evidence of the missing supplies, and the testimony of Ching’s lieutenants. Is the communications sergeant willing to testify about the erased tapes?”
“Yes, sir,” Enza confirmed.
“What about the sabotage of the ship?”
“Nothing conclusive, sir, but there is evidence of a gap in the maintenance schedule.”
Clark’s brow knitted in a frown. “So someone could have gone in during that time and tampered with the ship’s systems?”
“Exactly, sir.” She paused for a moment, the corners of her mouth turning downward in a slight frown. “Sir, given the prosecution’s weak case, do you think there could be something else here? Something more political?”
Clark nodded. “I think that’s exactly what this is. I think whoever framed Ching is expecting to benefit regardless of the outcome. If Ching is found guilty, our side loses an important figure. If he isn’t, suddenly there’s a pretext for escalating the war.”
She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Will this affect our strategy?”
“Not at all. I don’t want anyone to think they can get away with attacking the people close to me.” His voice took on a resolute quality that it normally only did when he was Superman.
“Of course.” She nodded in agreement. “How is Zara, sir?”
“Better,” Clark replied.
“I imagine it is very difficult for her – to have her most trusted advisor wrongfully accused of such horrible crimes, especially at a time when her injuries make it impossible for her to take a more active role in his defense.”
“It is,” Clark replied. “She was also afraid of the same thing you were – that if she got too involved in the case people would wonder if pressure was being put on the tribunal to let Ching go.”
********
“Nor, would you please stop pacing, I am trying to think,” Rae Et rebuked her son as though he were a child. Nor stopped and looked at her, his face puckered in a temperamental pout.
“As am I, mother,” he replied sullenly.
Rae Et’s frown softened. “Come here, my son,” she said. She stood up from her chair and indicated that he should sit. He did as she bade. She stood beside the chair, suddenly taking on the role of doting mother. She ran her fingers gently through his hair. “Believe me when I say that I am acting in your best interest,” she counseled quietly.
“We are moving too slowly,” Nor countered. “This nonsense with Zara’s lapdog is nothing more than a distraction.”
“It is a method to salvage an operation that was botched by underlings. I am not yet ready to give up on our original plan.”
“You mean killing Zara?” Nor asked.
“Indeed,” Rae Et confirmed. “I still believe that without her, the government will fall apart. A little turmoil and chaos is all that is needed.”
“Then we should have moved by now,” Nor replied petulantly.
“Sometimes I wish you had inherited your father’s patience,” Rae Et said with a seemingly genuine smile.
Nor frowned coldly. “You rarely have a good word to say about him.”
“There were many things I admired about your father and I can still recall his good qualities. Though I must say the ambition that ran in his family skipped a generation. I am quite thankful that in that area, you succeed where he failed.”
“You left him to die in a doomed world.”
Rae Et’s eyes flashed with anger. “I did everything I could to save him. At that point, he hadn’t the will to continue living. He was already dead.”
“It is very convenient that I only have your version of events,” Nor replied coolly.
“Do you think this is what I wanted? All of your life, I have made sacrifices, have done everything possible to clear a path for you, to guide you, and ensure that you are not denied your birth rite. Your father never understood, he was never willing to do what was necessary. When you were still a baby, he had already given up. But I hadn’t, and I never will, my boy.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead.
********
Trey stood impatiently beside the door to Pelmon’s private office. Troublesome thoughts had been worrying at his conscience for what had seemed like ages. Roiling around in his mind, thoughts of treason, of betrayal, deceit, and dishonor kept him awake nights. He was still uncertain exactly why he was considering what Rae Et and Pelmon had said, but he knew that something had to be done. His world was already embroiled in a devastating war, and it was about to slip deeper and deeper into that morass.
The sound of footsteps in the corridor caused him to look toward the far end of the hallway. Pelmon lumbered slowly toward him, his robes billowing behind him. He glowered as he made eye contact with Trey. “Is there something you wanted?”
“You fully intend to go through with this plan don’t you? You intend to see that Ching cannot get a fair trial.”
“Fair trial or not, the man’s fate has already been determined,” Pelmon replied evenly.
“Do you truly believe that Rae Et can be trusted?” Trey asked.
“Do you?” Replied turned the question around. “When will you ever learn, my dear friend, that the struggles we endure are not simple? Rae Et needs us as much as we need her. And I know what you are thinking, but we do need her. We can end this war one of two ways, and one of those ways will spare a lot of innocent lives. Forget yourself, Trey, and forget your simplistic notions. What is one man’s life compared to the good of all society?”
“What about Lok Dei and Fet Ri?”
“They are good men, men like you. But they’ve learned a lesson that you too, will have to learn. They know that saving their people will require that they do things that they previously could not imagine.”
“How can you be so certain that I will not simply go to the First Ministers with word of your duplicity?”
“Because you know that this may be the only chance you have to save your people. You cannot imagine my reach in this world and I have friends far less scrupulous than I.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Of course I am. Do not doubt for a moment that I can have you destroyed.”
“Just like you’re destroying Ching,” Trey replied through gritted teeth.
“You are a powerful man, an influential man, and you can do a great deal of good in this world, but do not forget that the life of one man is nothing in the balance. Now I can use a man of your stature and your reputation. You can use your leverage to acquire a just and swift resolution to this crisis, but if you refuse, there are always alternative means at my disposal.”
********
The boom of the gavel hitting the podium’s surface echoed through the courtroom. “Will the accused please stand?” Pelmon demanded. He tried to give his voice the gravitas and somber tone the occasion demanded, but genetics had not been particularly generous to Pelmon in that regard. No effort he could muster was enough to create the necessary affection in his voice. His tone remained thin and weak, merely louder than usual.
Ching stood as commanded, his face drawn and expressionless. He clasped his hands in front of him. His uniform hung too loosely on him, weeks of stress had taken their toll on his already lean frame. He stared unblinkingly at his accusers, his jaw grimly set.
“It says here that you have chosen to dismiss your counsel,” one of the elder officers of the court read off the stack of documents in front of him.
“Aye, sir,” Ching replied.
“I trust you have chosen your own counselor to assist you with your defense?” Pelmon inquired. He looked directly at the young woman sitting beside Ching, his beady eyes narrowed.
Enza stood up, cutting a somber figure in the gray cloak and gown of the counselor. She folded her hands in front of her to stop them from trembling. “I will…” She cleared her throat. “I will assist the Lieutenant Commander in his defense.”
Pelmon arched a thick brow. “Are you qualified to try a case before this tribunal?”
She swallowed hard but continued to stare, clear eyed, at the tribunal. “Upon my recent promotion I attained such qualifications.”
“Congratulations are thus in order. Very well, Lieu…I mean Captain Enza,” Pelmon replied pointedly. “If there are no objections, I will set the date for the case against Lieutenant Commander Ching to begin one month from now.”
“I object, sir, I strenuously object,” Enza declared. “We have not had enough time to prepare our defense and change of counsel without fault is grounds for an extension.”
“In other circumstances, perhaps, but the interest of the people in a swift and just resolution outweighs your objection. Will the prosecution be prepared to proceed as scheduled?”
The stern looking lawyer at the other table stood and addressed the court for the first time during the proceedings. “Aye, sir,” he declared simply.
“Very well,” Pelmon replied. “Trial date is set.”
********
“That’s my guy,” Lois said with a slight smile as she wiped the warm water from her face. Jon giggled as he splashed a chubby fist in the water. Not for the first time Lois was thankful that her son was such a happy baby and enjoyed taking his baths. His energetic splashing guaranteed that she’d end up just as wet as he did at bath time. Lifting him out of the small tub she wrapped him quickly in a large towel. She hoisted him easily onto her shoulder and carried him to the nursery.
She crossed into the darkened room, the light from the hallway spilling into the nursery, silhouetting the furniture in shades of gray. Lois held her son securely in the crook of her arm as she pulled open the dresser drawer. She closed her eyes, feeling a sense of the familiar wrap around her like a warm blanket. The distinct sounds of another heartbeat, slow and steady, and calm, relaxed breathing were unmistakable.
“You’re here,” she murmured as his arms wrapped around her. She leaned back against his solid frame breathing in the wonderful scent of him, the scent of soap and sandalwood and his warm skin.
“Where else would I be?” he asked. She could hear the smile in his voice. He kissed her neck, his arms tightening around her just a little. Lois looked up over her shoulder at him, noticing the wistful smile on his face as he gazed down at the baby in her arms, still wrapped in his yellow towel. “I could just watch you hold him for hours,” he whispered.
A shiver rushed through her body and tears welled up in her eyes. She screwed them tightly shut, letting a sigh escape her lips. “I thought…” she began, her voice breaking on the words. Her mouth was suddenly dry, the lump forming in her throat made it difficult to swallow. “I dreamt that you went away. You were gone and …” The tears finally fell, slipping down her face. “and it hurt…so much,” she managed between sobs.
“Shhh,” he whispered soothingly. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.” The words rumbled deep in his chest, the sound so reassuring, so real.
“It was just a dream,” she said softly. It must have been, she realized. It had to have been a dream. A nightmare. A horrible nightmare, that’s all it was. The sound of his voice, the smell of his skin, the feel of his arms around her, holding her and their son in the strong circle of his embrace, these things were real. They defined her reality.
He pulled away slightly, turning her around to look at him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and caressed her cheek softly. She stared up at him through tear-filled eyes, searching his face for affirmation, for some reassurance. Instead, all she found was a sad smile that didn’t reach his dark eyes. “Here,” he said, his voice a low whisper, as he placed his hand over her heart. She bit her trembling lip, trying to fight back the fresh tears that threatened to fall.
“I will be right here,” he repeated. He gently touched his sleeping son’s head. With great hesitance, he stepped backward, the reluctance etched into his expression. In the darkness, she could still see the brightness in his eyes that told her that he struggled with their separation just as she did.
“Clark, don’t go. Don’t leave me,” she sobbed, shaking her head. “I’m not ready to let you go.”
“I know,” he whispered. “I know how much it hurts. How it feels like there’s this gaping hole in your chest, and you can’t breathe.”
“And every minute feels worse than the one before it,” she finished.
The corners of his mouth turned up in a slight, pained smile. “Yeah,” he breathed.
“Come home to me,” she murmured.
He winked. “I’m working on it.”
Lois woke with a start, her heart beating a rough tattoo in her chest. She looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms. Leaning back in the rocking chair, she brushed the tears from her face. With a sigh, she rose to her feet and gently placed her son in his crib. Closing her eyes, she tried to hold fast to the swiftly fading memory of the dream, of the sound of his voice, the feel of his arms around her. There was some comfort to be had in the fact that the dreams were still so vivid, she realized. She could still see him in her mind’s eye, she hadn’t forgotten.
She would never forget.
