Part 6: HealingShe didn't know what to do, so she put her hand on his right shoulder in an attempt to comfort as she turned toward the door.
"Help! Someone help!" she cried just as the door was slammed open and a storm of nurses and doctors charged in, most of them with sunglasses.
They pulled the curtain away completely and swarmed around his bed.
"What happened?" one of them asked above Superman's pain-filled groans.
"I don't know! We were talking and then he gasped. I asked him what was wrong and he said it was his ribs!" she explained as quickly as she could.
"Superman, talk to us, what's happening?" a nurse asked.
"Burning, it feels like my ribs are burning!" he answered, gasping for breath. "So hot!"
Lois was yanked back, and it took her a split second to realize it was Perry.
One of the doctors took out a stethoscope and listened to his chest.
"I'm not hearing any fluid. Lungs are clear."
Superman tried to remain still but it quickly became too much. He curled protectively onto his side, wrapping his arms around himself, panting, before he suddenly flinched from the doctor's touch.
"If his ribs are broken and not just fractured, he could easily puncture a lung!" one of them warned.
"Superman, try not to move. We're giving you something for the pain, just hold on," the black doctor said, injecting something into the IV line. Lois believed Perry had told her his name was Dr. Carson.
Superman moaned, squirming and shifting, trying to reduce the stress on his left side as he inadvertently pressed against the bed's right railing in his effort. The nurses and doctors desperately tried to keep him still, but then Superman abruptly and violently flailed with a shout.
The railing snapped and the nurses on that side barely pulled back in time. He fell off the bed with a startled cry, quickly rolling into the fetal position before raising his arms over his head as if he expected to be struck.
No one moved for a long moment as he wheezed.
Somehow he still had the more critical tubes in place, such as the I.V. line in his left arm, but half of the monitoring stickers had come free and the oxygen mask was off. He was shaking and barely had his eyes open, though he might as well have had them tightly closed for how much he was actually seeing.
"No one touch him!" Carson ordered as he lowered himself to the floor beside him. "Superman, you're in the hospital, you're safe. No one is trying to hurt you. We're trying to help relieve the pain in your ribs."
"Should we risk another dose of morphine?" the other doctor whispered.
"Let's wait a moment," he said softly, before pointing to the bruises they could see on his back that were now rapidly fading from blue and purple to brown and healing yellow.
Superman shuddered, slowly opening his eyes fully and looking around while trying not to move. At first, it didn't look like he knew where he was, but then he suddenly sagged with immense relief and lowered his arms, exhaling heavily.
Carson crawled closer, but still didn't touch him.
"I-I'm sorry. I thought I was back there," Superman whispered, blinking away his confusion.
"Quite alright. That level of pain in these circumstances can throw anyone. How is your pain level now?" Carson asked sympathetically but without pity.
"Better."
"One to ten?" he asked pointedly, noticing how his patient was bracing his side as he moved to sit up.
"Six, seven maybe," he admitted with a wince, squinting at him.
"I can’t give you another dose of morphine just yet, but let me know if it gets worse," he said as he motioned for two of the nurses to approach. "Let's get you back on the bed."
Now with things much calmer and his vitals were stable, the other medical professionals took their leave, allowing Dr. Carson and the two nurses to handle things.
Perry and Lois remained back and after a minute approached the bed, both now wearing sunglasses since the curtain wasn't drawn.
"What happened?" Perry asked gently.
"From what I can tell, his ribs began aggressively healing," Dr. Carson said, unbothered by the inquiry. It was clear Superman wanted to understand what was happening as well. "All of the dull, drawn out pain a human feels in the months it takes to heal a fracture or broken bone, he's experiencing in a fraction of the time. It would explain why the pain is so intense. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how long it'll take for his ribs to fully heal, but thankfully morphine seems to work well enough to take the edge off the pain."
"It's a big edge," Superman pointed out gratefully as the older nurse helped to better situate his oxygen mask.
"Considering the amount your bruises have faded, I can imagine. You just healed an equivalent of at least eight weeks in less than two minutes. I'm amazed you remained conscious to be honest, especially when considering the fact you don't have much experience with pain."
"This year's been a humbling experience. Before this year, I'd never been physically hurt," Superman said before he could stop himself. He frowned. "Why do I feel . . . I don't know, off?"
"The morphine. I gave you the maximum dosage that I feel is safe for you. You're likely feeling detached from everything. How's your pain now?"
"Five. It's pulsing, but it's better."
"Alright. I think we'll let you rest now and if the pain doesn't continue to go down I'll give you another dose in half an hour. Also, in a little over an hour we'll move you to the other room for some direct sun," Carson said.
Lois stopped at his bedside and gripped his hand.
"I'm glad you're alright," she said, her voice shaky.
"Sorry for scaring you," he said.
"You have nothing to apologize for, just rest and focus on getting better," she said gently, squeezing his hand.
"Alright."
She smiled and left with Perry.
O o O o O
"You okay, honey?" Perry asked once they entered a secluded waiting room off the secured hall. There were some tables and chairs, as well as a vending machine.
Lois took a deep breath as she looked at him. She had tears in her eyes.
"You were right. It was really bad. Is really bad," she said. "He has so many scars, and that pain. . . ." she whispered, closing her eyes.
"He's much better than he was," he said. "He's going to be okay."
"For a moment, he thought he was back there," she breathed, unable to fathom being in such a state.
"It's going to take time, but he'll recover, and not just physically."
"Do you think he'd be open to seeing someone? A psychotherapist?" Lois asked.
"I don't know, it might be best to wait and see."
"My sister has started seeing one, maybe--"
"Lois, dear, I know you're trying to help. What you just saw is a lot to take in and what he went through and is going through is no doubt traumatic, but I don't think this will help him right now. Men process things differently, human or not," he started before shifting his approach after seeing the persistent gleam in her eyes. "But I'll keep it in mind. If I see an opportunity, I'll suggest it to him, alright? But I don't want you to do it. This sort of thing is better handled in a man-to-man sort of way. If you try to do it, even with your heart in the right place, it would do more harm than good. Understand?"
She nodded, honestly taken aback by his stern stance. "I understand."
"Good. We both want what's best for him, and with me being named his next of kin, you can be sure I'm going to treat him as such. Although I likely won't tell him outright, he's one of my boys now. I'll be sure he gets what he needs whether he likes it or not, okay?" Perry promised.
"Okay, Perry. Thank you."
Lois relaxed, grateful Superman had Perry in his corner.
O o O o O
"I feel ridiculous," Superman stated as they wheeled him into the hall in a wheelchair.
"It's hospital policy to transport patients this way or by hospital bed," Nurse Noel said, amused by Superman's bemused expression as she made sure the I.V. line and other connections were secure on the chair’s back wall and pole.
Wearing a hospital gown over the medical shorts, his bare legs were covered by a blanket while his feet were in hospital, non-slip socks. He still had the oxygen mask, despite his assurance that he no longer needed it. Dr. Carson said otherwise, pointing out that it was helping him heal, just like the Ringer's I.V. was. He couldn't argue with that, especially since he was still going through a bag every fifteen minutes. He decided not to think about the other bag that accompanied that.
They started their way through the hospital, trying to not attract attention, but that proved impossible, especially with security heading off each junction and ensuring a clear path.
"It's Superman!" was quickly heard down the halls.
Soon after, people began poking their heads out from rooms and gathering on the fringes of doorways to look at the black haired man in a wheelchair being pushed by Dr. Carson.
As much as he wanted to, Clark didn't duck his head or shy away from the attention. Instead, he took it in stride, wrapping his Superman persona around himself like a massive shield as he met the gazes of curious onlookers with a kind smile.
"Feel better, Superman!" someone suddenly shouted, and that's all it took for the cascade to follow.
"Thank you, Superman! You saved my mom's life last month!"
"We love you!"
"Thanks for saving us from Nightfall!"
"Greatest hero ever!"
"We're praying for you!"
"You saved my brother! Thank you!"
Many other voices followed, each similar in message and enthusiasm, uncaring about his less than super appearance.
Weaving through the corridors, all the way to the west end of the hospital where his room was, thankful voices continued to follow him, calling out well wishes, encouragement and their gratitude.
He had never felt his chest so tight with emotion or his soul so high. He felt as if he was enveloped in the glow of a million suns, and while he tried to keep moisture from gathering in his eyes, he failed.
Only when the door to his new room closed did he let his tears silently fall. Wiping his eyes, he tried to collect himself as Barb came around the chair and knelt before him.
"Here, Superman," she said, holding out a tissue.
"Thanks," he said with a wobbly breath, torn between being relieved Lois wasn't there to see him like this and wishing she or Perry were there.
Lois had left the hospital with Perry not long after his ribs had healed. Perry promised to return the next morning. Perry's friend, Joe Harding, had headed out assuring them Superman could continue using the lamps for as long as he needed and could even keep them if he wished.
"You know, I just realized no one has directly thanked me for Nightfall before," he said after a moment. "And to see and hear so many people tell me. . . ."
Barb stilled and her eyebrows rose.
"Of course, I don't do what I do to be thanked, but it just sort of struck me. Gosh, look at me, who needs Kryptonite when I turn into this with a few thank you's?" he said, trying to dry his stubbornly weepy eyes.
"They were more than just simple thank you's. And sure, acknowledgement shouldn't be the reason for doing good, but just as people should do good for the sake of good, people should acknowledge the good done by others because it is also the right thing to do. Genuine acknowledgement is important. It facilitates all types of healing in all situations and solidifies purpose by providing a clear, however close or distant, personal connection," she said, taking hold of his scarred hand. "You've impacted a lot of lives, and I understand you might feel it shouldn't affect you so much. I get that.
"For me, I've been a nurse for over twenty years. Saving people is my job. I love doing it, and for a while it felt strange whenever someone thanked me. I'm just doing my job, after all, but to them, it's meant the difference between still having their loved one and not. Still being alive and not. Grasping that can hit you pretty hard. And for you, there's also the fact you're not being paid for this, and I dare say you sacrifice a lot to do what you do. Being thanked acknowledges that sacrifice, even if only a little or in a roundabout way. So I'm not surprised you're so affected."
He blinked as he let her words sink in, his eyes red from tears.
"Now let's get you into bed. Your hands are freezing!" she said.
Barb and another nurse quickly helped him into bed as Dr. Carson checked his most recent blood work on the clipboard.
They covered him with a blanket, leaving his arms and half his chest exposed after securing the ECG electrode stickers to his skin again.
Now settled, he took a moment to look around the room.
It was smaller than the other room, but that was likely because they didn't feel they needed as much equipment or personnel as before now that he was stable and edging closer to Good condition. His bed was facing the large window, currently covered by thick blinds. However, he did notice that he seemed to be able to hear noises from outside more clearly than before and the air smelled less sterile.
"Superman, compared to how you feel normally, what's the biggest difference right now for you? I'm trying to get a better gage for how different you're feeling from your normal," Carson said.
"Besides the constant ache I'm feeling everywhere right now, the biggest difference is feeling cold, which is strange. I don't remember ever feeling cold before. And tired. I'm not as tired as yesterday, but I'm beginning to really understand what people mean by being tired of being tired."
"Your body temperature is sitting at 98, which is a little under your normal, right?"
"How do you know that?" Superman asked, taken aback.
"Mr. White told me," Carson said, not that surprised by Superman's reaction. He hadn't been awake when he had spoken to White about that.
"Oh, okay." He relaxed. "Yeah, it's usually just above 99, but never above 100.5, at least as far as I know."
“What’s your pain level right now?” Carson asked.
“Three. It flickers to five sometimes but it goes back down.”
“But the three is constant?” Carson asked. “Where?”
“Everywhere, but I suppose my bones and muscles mostly. The spikes are in my joints.”
Carson jotted something down. “Stomach ache or headache at all?”
“My head has been hurting since the cage, to be honest, but it’s around a dull two now, I suppose. My stomach feels . . . uncomfortable. I'm not sure how to explain the feeling. It's better than it was but it's not . . . calm. Most everything else is a . . . I don’t know how to describe it. It’s not a sharp pain or burning, more like a layered, spread out pain with an odd sensation. Tingles maybe? Why does it feel that way?”
“I think it could be the damage the radiation did to your body. Cellular damage, unfortunately. The good news is that it seems to be healing," he said, adjusting the blankets down to his waist so his whole chest was bare. "Alright. Well, let's go ahead and get you some real sun," he said, nodding to the nurse who was ready by the blinds. “Ready?”
“Yeah,” Superman said.
The blinds slowly opened, revealing that the windows had already been slid open as far as they would go, allowing completely unfiltered light into the room and onto his face, arms, and chest.
Warmth ebbed forth, and it was so revitalizing he sagged completely into the bed, limp.
"Superman, are you okay?" Carson asked, checking his pulse.
“Yeah,” he whispered before he instinctively grabbed the edge of the blanket and tugged it aside, trying to get it off of himself completely before he stilled. The sun was better than the lamps, even all four at once, and he wasn’t even fully exposed. The light just felt smoother and went deeper. His skin was practically singing.
Distantly, he heard Barb and Carson talking urgently.
“Tis okay,” he muttered.
As energizing as the light was, the caressing heat reminded his whole being of how weak he really was. Aches deep within began to bleed away, his core doing all it could to spread the power to cells still recovering from the radiation damage as quickly as it could. But doing so took a lot of work.
He was so tired.
His awareness began to collapse.
And then he wasn’t aware at all.
O o O o O
“Should I close the blinds?” the nurse asked worriedly when Superman stopped responding to them.
“No. No, his heart rate is solid. Maybe this is normal for his people. Considering the pain that he was describing, maybe this is addressing that damage, and sleep can only help him,” Carson said as he watched the monitors carefully and listened to Superman's lungs and heart with his stethoscope.
“Is he sleeping though?” Barb asked.
"I don't know," he said, pulling out his penlight and carefully opening Superman’s right eye before shining the light across it. He watched for a reaction to the light before doing the same to the left. “This might be closer to a pseudo coma.”
“Doctor,” Barb said, pointing.
He turned and caught sight of the remaining bruises on Superman’s torso instantly vanish, leaving only healthy skin. Without hesitation, Carson removed the blanket completely to allow as much sunlight to touch his patient as possible.
"Take off his socks, and let me know if anything changes. I'm going to update the Administrator. He's going to make another statement this evening," he said.
Barb nodded her understanding.
O o O o O
Lois closed her eyes as she turned off the TV.
The hospital had just given an update on Superman's condition, which was thankfully continuing to improve. They refused to go into specifics of course, stating patient confidentiality, but it didn't seem to really matter. After the dozens of people who had seen him when they relocated him in the hospital, the gist of his visible injuries spread and speculations beyond those took off.
The curiosity of people was unfortunately as unquenchable as always.
The apparent scar on his face was the most discussed, coupled with the additional proof that he was no longer invulnerable because he also had an I.V. and was on oxygen.
The secret of Kryptonite was out, but how it worked and how Luthor apparently used it against their hero was up for debate.
Lois felt sick after only hearing a snippet of a conversation between 'experts' discussing what might have caused those injuries and speculating on his physiology.
She really hoped Superman wasn't seeing any of this.
The only good thing coming from all of the press was the multitude of stories about people around the world showing their support and concern for Superman, such as the numerous vigils taking place in countless cities and the uptick in donations to the Superman Foundation.
Mr. Brown of the Foundation had given a statement on behalf of Superman, thanking all of the well wishers and those who made donations. In the next week, they would be syphoning donations into the local and international communities in different ways, including to the hospital treating Superman.
That portion of news was heartwarming to say the least and Lois took solace in knowing Superman would at least approve of that.
O o O o O
Martha and Jonathon silently watched the news that night, trying not to let their fears run wild. Thankfully, Perry had given them another update, so in a lot of ways they knew more than the media, but news about Superman was not all that had their attention.
The support for their son was more than they could have ever hoped. Martha cried when she saw all the vigils for her son around the world and Jonathon was reassured by the hospital's efforts to keep him safe, and while they of course wished the existence of Kryptonite hadn't been revealed, they understood there really was no feasible alternative.
The talking heads blabbing about how their son's body worked, however, really needed to stop.
They wished they could do something about the maddening chatter, but all they could do was change the channel. They really hoped Clark was not near any televisions. They knew how mortified he would be over being the subject of such discussions and theories.
Hopefully Clark would be well enough to leave before too much longer.
O o O o O
Perry returned the next day with a package in hand, quickly being led toward Superman's new room; however, he was growing concerned by the noticeably higher security.
"Inspector?" he asked, surprised to find Henderson waiting for him with Dr. Carson in a secluded hallway.
“Mr. White, I wanted to be the one to inform you of the threats to Superman’s life the hospital and the Superman Foundation just received,” Henderson said grimly.
“Threats?!” Perry asked, appalled.
“Yes. We’ve doubled security and are in the process of increasing the perimeter of observation around the hospital.”
“Do you know who’re making the threats?” Perry asked.
“I feel it’s attention seeking scumbags but we’re not going to risk it. It’s why we’re now having a guard inside the room and not just outside,” he said.
“Alright,” Perry said as they resumed walking toward Superman’s new room. “How is he doing?” he asked after a moment.
"His life signs have improved a great deal and his body temperature is now 100.1," Carson said before taking a deep breath as he handed him a pair of sunglasses. Perry didn’t like the change in his expression as he took the shades with his free hand. “Now, I don’t want to alarm you, but after moving him to this room and opening the windows to expose him to direct sunlight yesterday, we believe he went into a kind of self-induced coma."
"What?" Perry asked, now really alarmed.
"I think this is a normal physical response for his people. I do wish I knew exactly why, but it's clear that he's getting something from real sunlight that he wasn't getting from the lamps. And although the lamps no doubt helped, likely saved his life even, they weren’t able to completely heal him. Come, I’ll show you what I’m talking about.”
After putting on their sunglasses, they entered the room which unfortunately didn’t have sunlight pouring in just yet. Instead, the four lamps had been set up again and Perry immediately knew what Carson was talking about.
“The scars!” he exclaimed.
About half of the scars were completely gone, with the rest not as raised or as red as they had been before. And the bruises were nowhere to be seen.
“Yes. Just like how his wounds closed under the lamps, his scars healed under direct sunlight. I’m hoping the rest will vanish once the sun reaches this side of the building again. For now, however, we’re placing him under the lamps again because they’re better than nothing.”
“And I take it it's for security reasons that he's not moved to wherever the sunlight is?” Perry asked, frowning.
“This room is one of the safest rooms with a window that receives direct sunlight. It’s why it was selected to begin with,” Henderson stated. “No buildings or vantage points beyond have a direct line of sight through this window, let alone to his bed.”
“ ‘Line of sight’? You mean you’re concerned about snipers? Great shades of Elvis!” Perry exclaimed.
“We’re not taking any chances. The world knows he’s vulnerable right now, and we have no idea how long before his powers return. There is some talk of relocating him to a more secure location, but the move itself would be challenging because that would require a great deal of prep all on its own. And that's assuming an agreement is made on where to move him,” Henderson stated, clearly stressed. "Anyway, I've been in meetings with the DoD and they've been overhearing chatter through their networks. They make it sound like it's posturing more than anything, but they're on high alert, which is concerning in itself. There are governments out there that would want nothing less than for Superman to be gone, after all."
Perry nodded darkly. "Okay, so is there a plan?"
"We're keeping him here for the time being. With all the bad that comes with the publicity, there is some good. There's a lot of cameras around and that's a deterrent on its own," Henderson said.
"As long as they don't want to be caught," Perry pointed out.
"Most fortunately don't, but for the minority it's why we've increased security," Henderson agreed.
"So how much longer do you think he needs?" Perry asked, looking to Carson.
"I'd say he's gone from near zero percent to about 80 in less than thirty six hours, at least as far as human condition, so that's promising," Carson said optimistically. "I just hope his powers recover as quickly as his body. If they do, I would say he could be back to himself in four or five days on the outside."
Perry nodded before looking back to Superman who was oblivious to the world.
"Anything else?" Perry asked, looking to Henderson who was sticking around longer than he typically would.
"Yes, but it's just another reason to hope Luthor is in the lowest level of Hell," Henderson said. "After Jimmy sent me what he found out about where Luthor might have gotten the Kryptonite -- thanks for that by the way -- we've been trying to make sure all of it has been located. Well, after ordering all of Luthor’s items and properties to be scanned with the calibrated geiger counter, we found that he had coated the metal of his steel toed boots with it, beneath the leather."
"That son of a---" Perry grit out, both he and Dr. Carson immediately realizing why Superman's ribs had been so damaged.
Lowest level indeed.
O o O o O
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