TOC found hereHang on, FoLCs…it has to get worse before it gets better.
Chapter 5: Before I Come Undone~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Late February 19979 months, 15 Days Since Clark Left Home"(Wake me up) Wake me up inside(I can't wake up) Wake me up inside(Save me) Call my name and save me from the dark(Wake me up) Bid my blood to run(I can't wake up) Before I come undone..."Bring Me to Life by Evanescence ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Clark lay, spent, Lois in his arms. He'd ached for this feeling for so long, so many long and lonely nights on New Krypton, falling asleep alone, sometimes after an empty release. No matter the fantasy, he'd always felt less than gratified.
The training he'd endured...it hadn't helped. Alone in his bedchamber at night, he was allowed to feel, allowed to unlock the vault of emotions that were imperative to ignore, to reject during the day. But he couldn't ignore them there. Wouldn't?
This, now, should be the best feeling in the world, here with Lois in his arms. He should feel their connection thrumming soundly between them, but he struggled to find and sustain it. It came in fits and starts, no matter how desperately he wanted it to be there, solid and reassuring.
Lois trembled a bit in his arms.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just a little cold."
"Here, I'll pull up the blankets," he offered, starting to reach down, but she stopped him.
"No, no, it's fine," she said softly, patting his chest and giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "I have to, uh...go clean up." She gestured to her lower half. "And I also need to put the breast milk in the fridge."
"Oh, okay," he said, unsure if this was actual awkwardness between them or if that's how it was between all couples with newborns. Or was it him, his fault?
She stood and looked around for something and then appeared to find it. She grabbed a few baby wipes and cleaned herself, and then she grabbed a clean set of clothes out of the dresser. He wondered briefly if she should be watching her. Was he allowed to? He looked away, unsure. He ought to get up too. He stood and grabbed his sleep pants and briefs from the floor where they'd landed earlier and put them on.
He saw the bottles of milk on the table and went over to them. "I'll just...grab these and put them in the fridge," he said, picking them up. "I...um...see you out there." He gestured lamely in the direction of the rest of the farmhouse.
"Mmmhmm. Okay," she said a bit absentmindedly. "Thank you."
Clark left the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind him. He opened the refrigerator and found two other bottles on the top shelf and set the two fresh bottles beside them. They all had different levels of fullness and that struck him as odd. He'd have to ask about that later.
He wandered out to the living room, expecting to find his mom and Kallie still in the chair, but they were nowhere to be found. He extended his hearing and found them somewhere outside the house, maybe the garden or the greenhouse. A small part of him panicked, trying to remember if he and Lois had been loud or not, but he didn't think they had.
Lois hadn't come out of the bedroom yet, and he hoped that didn't mean anything. She
had...enjoyed herself too, right? He hated that he was so inexperienced that he didn't know any better. Maybe he should have asked her...
He felt awkward and wasn't sure what to do with himself. Usually, when he was home in Smallville, he was helping his dad with specific chores or visiting for a meal or holiday. He wasn't used to just having nothing to do, no plans or responsibilities.
And truth be told, after almost a year on New Krypton, he was even more at a loss, feeling a bit useless. One of the core Kryptonian virtues was industriousness, and it felt wrong to be doing nothing. Not that he'd been industrious or productive in the traditional agricultural sense, but he'd always had an agenda for the day, carefully planned and plotted by his personal council. Battles. Decisions. Troop deployments. Council meetings.
Training...
*#*#*#*
Late June 19963 weeks, 5 days Since Clark Left HomeThe world is blurry. Like petroleum jelly smeared over a lens. Memories assault him from every angle. Puzzle pieces that he struggles to make fit into a coherent whole. They continue to elude him.
He is in the training room. Ching is barking orders. Criticizing. Always criticizing.
He isn't getting it. Can't do it, can't suppress them. Can't block them. Can't block her. Won't block her.
Lois..."No, try again. Repeat after me.
Kao-zha-aovem-u."
"
Kaaow-zsa-ovem-u."
"Closer. Again.
Kao-zha-aovem-u."
Images swirl in front of him like butterflies overhead. He can see them, but he can't catch them: Ching irritated. Disappointed. He isn't good enough. Isn't strong enough. Cold enough.
The images slip through his hands like water.
The image shifts and he can hear her. Calling for him from across the stars. Her pain radiates through him. It's enough to make the Man of Steel double over and yet Ching will not let him. Won't let him hear her—won't let him feel. He needs to feel. He needs to get back to her. He needs...
Another shift and he's in a room. Dark and cold. He isn't used to being cold.
"It's called
Jahghah, Restraint." Ching's face is a stone mask but he can see the barest flicker of emotion that he tries to bury. He's scared. "All Kryptonian children must enter this room and reject unnecessary emotions. They must learn to compartmentalize and lock away their thoughts and fears. Must learn not to show weakness."
"And if they fail?" Something in Ching's eyes tells him he already knows the answer. He gives the smallest of nods.
"You should have gone through this ritual as a child, Kal-El. It's taking too long. It might have been easier then. Adolescents, after all, have much less to fear—less to lose."
Another shift and he's back in the training room. Is he doing this? Trying to avoid the truth of whatever is in that room?
He knows what's in the room. He feels it in his soul.
"
Kao-zha-aovem-u." He is trying so hard. It is never enough.
"Good. Again." He feels the irritation rise and fights to quell it
"
Kao-zha-aovem-u. Wouldn't it be easier if I did it in English?
Don't feel."
Ching glares at him. The room tugs at the corner of his mind, waiting...
"It is easier to connect with your Kryptonian roots in the language of tradition."
He's never hated tradition so much.
The floor slides out from under him and he's in the room.
He can feel the blood drain from his face. His heart drops out of his chest and he fights to keep the panic from bubbling to the surface.
"Superman, help!"
Of course it's her. Who else would it be? Who else could reach into the deepest parts of his soul—the places even he didn't know about?
He launches himself into the air and, like a moth to a flame, flies towards the sound of her voice.
It calls to him from across the stars. It's so very broken. She's so broken.
<<Lois. Oh, God, Lois, I'm sorry.>>A lurch. The training room swings back into view. Ching sees his face and frowns. He doesn't know. Can't know. He wasn't in the room.
"Try not to resist so much, Kal-El. Feelings are deadly here. You must master this skill to be a successful leader. If you do not, you risk broadcasting your insecurities and intent to everyone, including Lord Nor. Mastery is paramount."
<<Now, in your mind. Kao-zha-aovem-u
. Hear me in your mind, and replicate it.>><<
Kao-zha-aovem-u.>>
He wants to get this right. Needs to. He can't go back. Can't find himself back in...
"It shows you your fear. Makes you see the things that bring out the strongest emotional response. The only way out is to..."
The room. Not the room. Not again.
She's there. His heart lurches and he fights to stuff the emotion down, lock it away in his mind as Ching taught him. He knows the rules. He will see it again and again until he gets it right. Until he can't feel.
But how can he not when he sees her like this? Curled up on the couch, shrinking into herself as her tears soak the pillow she clutches against her.
She sobs his name and it cuts him in half.
<<Don't feel.>>Ching's voice is in his head. Reminding him. Or warning him? He's done this, too, after all.
<<The images will go away when you can control it. Until then they will only get worse.>>What could be worse than this? Worse than her pain? Worse than being the cause of her heartache? Pain is easy to bear for the Man of Steel, but he can't bear hers. It's too much.
The world turns on its axis, and he knows he's failed again because she's falling—hurtling towards the ground at unimaginable speed. He flies towards her, desperate to reach her—to save her—but he knows it's futile. He's done this before. He's always too late.
The scenario changes but the result doesn't change. Falling, drowning, fire. He's never fast enough. Never strong enough.
"She is your weakness, Kal-El." Ching sounds calm but underneath even his patience is crumbling. "You must purge her from your thoughts."
No, not a weakness. She's never been a weakness. She's a part of him. The best part of him.
"Maybe on Earth," Ching is speaking and he realizes he must have spoken aloud. "But this is New Krypton. Here you cannot afford such emotions."
He feels adrift at this. He doesn't know any other way to be. His emotions are his strength. They are what makes him...
No, not human. But not Kryptonian, either. He floats between worlds among them but not a part of either.
Another shift, then another and another. Over and over he sees it. Sees her. Fails her.
It's too much. He wants just once to get there in time, to wipe away her tears. To come home to her.
And so he learns. Over and over. He learns. Not because he wants to. Because he has to. Because if he continues to lose her, to see her hurting, he will go mad.
It's better to live with a heart locked away in a vault than with half of one. He doesn't know when he decides this, but Ching appears relieved when he does.
He doesn't know if it's because it took him so long to get there or because even Ching couldn't watch him suffer.
But he learns. He grows. He shoves his emotions down deep somewhere only he knows about. To protect him. To protect her.
He shuts down. He adapts.
He survives.
*#*#*#*
Maybe he should go back in the bedroom? No...he'd said he'd meet her out here, so he should wait. She had wanted to talk. They'd gotten...distracted, but she'd still wanted to talk, he assumed. About...his time up there. But...they really did need to talk, and he'd rather talk in the room where his mom and dad would be less likely to overhear.
He went back to the door and knocked hesitantly. "Lois?"
"Yeah? I'll be out in a sec."
"Actually," he started, "I was thinking...Mom took the baby for a walk in the garden. Did...would it be okay to talk now?" Oh God. What was he saying? He didn't want to talk now. Why had he agreed to talk?
Had he agreed to talk? He didn't want to talk about things at all. He wanted to retreat to the soulless comfort of his bedchamber.
"Sure," she said, answering the door with a shy smile.
He walked past her and hesitated, wondering where he should sit, and he opted for the chair in the corner. He noticed she'd made the bed. She came to sit down on the corner of the bed closest to the chair, sitting cross-legged with her hands in her lap. Maybe he should have sat on the bed? Why had he chosen to sit alone? Should he move?
What was he supposed to say? Where did he even start? He couldn't share this...especially anything that had happened up there, not with her. But...she was supposed to be his best friend. He'd been closer to her than he'd been with anyone else in his life, even his parents. Even now, with things so awkward. If he couldn't share with her, there
was no one else.
"Hey," Lois murmured.
"Hey," he echoed. He couldn't look up at her just yet. He instead examined the seam of the upholstery and ran his finger along it. It was a bit like a scar, but much more precise and straight.
He felt the heaviness in his chest, the infinite weight of everything he'd been through, everything he'd done. His sense of self was...turbulent, marred with violence and inhumanity. And it wasn't fair. He'd gone to New Krypton, yes to prevent civil war and save lives, but...
He bit at his lower lip and his brow furrowed. He felt utterly foolish. Had he really thought it'd be as simple as having political fights and arduous legislative sessions, maybe addressing some protestors or violent rioters at worst? That he could have spent the rest of the time contentedly learning about his heritage and birth parents, the Kryptonian way of life, and maybe how Lois and he might be biologically compatible? Then he'd be on his merry way home to get married, have kids, win awards with Lois, and live happily ever after?
Had he been that naive? That hopeful? Superman's uncompromising optimism, his unrelenting belief in the good of other people...
It'd become painfully clear on New Krypton that Lois was a fundamental, indispensable part of who Superman was. There
was no Superman without her. And New Krypton had taken what precious little had been left of Superman. Had taken
her from him.
"Clark?" He heard her voice, tender and concerned. And closer. At some point, she'd moved off the bed and was on her knees, sitting back on her heels in front of him, a hand on his knee. He shook his head to rid it of the memory of courtiers and citizens bowing before him.
"It's okay, love," she said. "You don't have to share."
Of course, he felt the connection then. A pang of heartache deep in his chest, the pain of her knowing that he wouldn't open up, wouldn't be vulnerable with her.
"No," he rushed to say.
Forgive me. Kao-zhalish-odh khahp. "I should. I need to," he said, unsure if he was trying to convince her or himself. Probably both.
Don't feel. <<Kao-zha-aovem-u.>> It was the only way he'd get through this. "I'm just...I don't know what to say. What to share."
"I understand." Her hand rubbed his knee gently as she still knelt in front of him, and she looked at him with so much concern, so much love.
Would she still look at him the same if she knew? His heart clenched with the thought of how easily that look could change.
It had been so much easier to talk with Zara about this. He flinched inwardly at the stab of guilt.
Kao-zha-aovem-u. Was telepathy even possible with Lois?
I'm sorry. <<Kao-zhalish-odh khahp.>>No reaction.
"I..." she started but trailed off as though she was afraid to say the wrong thing. "You're home, so...I assume...things are...okay up there now?"
He nodded. "Yeah...they're...it's fine." His mind flashed to council meetings, delegations, representatives... "There's a...new governing structure."
Her face looked so tentatively hopeful. "Oh, that's good. Right?"
"They won't come back." He swallowed hard, not even sure why he'd said that.
Lois smiled at him and nodded, and she seemed to be searching his eyes for something else. He held his breath, suddenly certain his crimes were laid bare for her to see.
<<Kao-zha-aovem-u.>>
She looked away quickly, as though she'd been afraid of what she'd found. When she looked back up at him, she smiled somewhat awkwardly. "You'd said yesterday morning...that you'd learned some interesting things about your physiology, your biology?" she prompted, aiming for a safer topic, he guessed, as she moved to sit cross-legged on the floor.
He got up abruptly and sat down on the floor facing her. She put her hand back on his knee, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted it there or not and the conflict of it stretched his heart uncomfortably. She was trying, literally reaching out. And he couldn’t.
Yesterday morning, the bonding, the connection...it’d seemed like a good thing, a happy thing to share. But now? Wouldn’t that just hurt her, upset her, to tell her that this bond existed but that he’d somehow broken it?
“I obviously learned something about your biology. It’s possible to get a human pregnant.” She smiled a little, but it was awkward and unsure.
Everything was awkward.
Don't feel. <<Kao-zha-aovem-u.>>She continued, sounding a little hesitant, “You were...gone a long time. Nine and a half months.”
Too long. He’d left her. He shouldn’t have left her. Did she hate him for it as much as he hated himself?
Forgive me.
<<Kao-zhalish-odh khahp.>>“That’s..." She hesitated. "That's enough time to...make and have a baby, you know, assuming the Kryptonian gestational period is the same as humans.”
Kryptonian gestation. He knew that one. A safe, scientific answer. “Nine months, same as a human,” he said.
He hadn’t taken his eyes off her hand, so he’d seen it twitch slightly as he’d answered.
“Oh.” Her voice was a little higher, and he couldn't guess at what her reaction meant. “Oh, okay.” She took her hand back and then scratched the back of her neck.
The connection surged again. Hurt and...betrayal? It was too strong. He couldn’t lose control. If she started crying, it’d be too much. When she cried, he wanted to die. He had to stay strong.
Leo ze'me com ozemo. Kao-zha-aovem-u. His training was failing him.
<<Don't feel.>>He took a deep breath.
Kao-zha-aovem-u. Don't feel. He looked up at her, finally. Her eyes were glistening with threatening tears and she was biting at her lower lip. “Are you okay, Lois?” he asked, willing concern and love into his voice while he tried to lock away the pain. His pain. Her pain.
<<Kao-zha-aovem-u.>>She tilted her head and looked at him strangely, seemingly searching his eyes again, his face for some sort of understanding. He didn’t think she was finding it.
All of a sudden, she shoved both hands into his chest. “Clark!” she cried, her voice breaking. “Talk to me!
Feel something.
Say something. You were the one who was gone for nine months. But you won't talk to me about what you did while you were gone, which is fine. I get it. I know it couldn’t have been easy. But it wasn’t easy here, either. Not at all. It might not have been war, but it was damn hard.” She scrambled to her feet and backed away from him. “You can’t just...sit there and pretend you’re not feeling
anything!” She turned away from him and stood, leaning against the wall, and he saw her shoulders start to tremble.
Forgive me. Kao-zhalish-odh khahp. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to feel, Lois. What do you want me to say?” he asked, his voice strained as he stood and talked to her back. His heart was pounding in his chest.
“
Anything!” She spun around to face him, anguish in her face rather than the anger her words and tone suggested. “Or maybe you could tell me...” Her voice dropped to a ragged whisper. “Tell me you didn’t sleep with her. That you weren’t gone nine whole months so you could produce an heir. That you didn’t leave me alone and pregnant to go have a baby on another planet with another woman.”
Her face crumpled and his walls fell, the full force of her feelings slamming into his chest and rending his heart. He was across the room in an instant, gathering her in his arms as she lost her fight against the tears.
He pulled her close and buried his head in her neck. “No...no no no no no no. Oh, Lois!” he soothed. He'd made it. He'd finally caught her.
She let out a sob and sagged into him, bringing her arms around his waist and burying her head against his chest. But was it in time? He hadn't spared her the pain; he'd caused it.
“Never, Lois,” he whispered. “I’m yours. Always.”
She took a deep, shuddering breath and tightened her arms around him. She squeezed him fiercely, almost forcefully, as if she were trying to imprint herself on his soul even though she was already there, indelibly. She inhaled deeply and exhaled on a whisper he had to strain to hear. “Mine.”
Another sound tugged at his senses, and Lois straightened, pushing away from him gently. He saw dark wet spots forming on her shirt.
She grabbed her breasts, covering the wet spots. “Kallie’s hungry. I’ve got to go,” she said, giving him an agonized, pleading look.
She swung the door open, and he watched in stunned silence as she collected the crying baby from his mom, who’d been headed to the kitchen, and walked out the front door.
He was still processing the moment. Everything had happened so fast, and all the feelings were swirling around and assaulting him from every angle. Like the room, the training room. But this time he was being forced
to feel. Sadness. Grief. Anger. Relief. Love. Anguish. Guilt. Hunger. Love. Heartache. Trust. Fear. Grief. Regret. Sorrow. Love. Regret.
He didn’t know whose feelings belonged to who. Maybe they were all his, all his to bear. He closed and opened his eyes slowly and found his mom staring at him from the kitchen.
“She just needs some space,” she whispered.
He nodded slowly and he thought he understood. There were too many feelings. It was too much. He wasn’t going to make it. He sank to the bed and wrapped his arms around his stomach to try and brace against the onslaught. He fell to his side as the sobs came and somehow his mom was there, his head landing in her lap.
“It’s too much, Mom,” he said, his voice a gruff cry. “It’s too much.”
“I know, honey. I know.” She made soothing sounds as she rubbed his back.
Comments____
A HUGE thank you to lovetvfan, my partner in crime, for writing the amazing flashback in the training room. You are awesome!!
