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Chapter 8: Do You Know How Much It Hurts?
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Early March 1997
9 months, 19 Days Since Clark Left Home

"No matter how many miles stand in between
In my heart is where you'll be
Holding on to all our dreams
With everything, everything but me..."

Everything But Me by Daughtry
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It was late morning after everyone had had breakfast, and Lois was lying down in bed, nursing Kallie and dozing on and off, when she felt small, intermittent shocks of grief and sadness run through her. It took a few minutes to realize what was happening, and another few minutes to get a sense of which emotions they were.

She scooted carefully away from Kallie so as not to wake her, and she pulled her shirt down as she sat up. She ran a hand through her hair and hoped for the best that it wasn't sticking up in seven different directions.

He hadn't gotten home last night until after she'd been asleep, but at least she'd woken up in his arms. Breakfast had been a little strained, and no one had talked about the elephant in the room. She took a deep breath in and headed out of the bedroom to find Clark.

He was in the living room on the couch in a pair of dark gray sweats and a light gray t-shirt. He was barefoot and sitting cross-legged on the cushions, certainly looking comfortable. But she could feel—at least sporadically—that his heart was heavy. When she recognized what he had in his lap, she instantly knew why.

Kallie's baby book. Well, to be more accurate, her pregnancy book and Kallie's baby book, something she'd put together so that if—when—Clark came back, he could see...everything he'd missed? It almost seemed cruel, in a way, to have an album that would cause him such pain, but...it was all she could think to do, and she knew he'd rather have this than nothing at all.

But that didn't take the hurt of it away.

She padded over to him, feeling a bit hesitant after yesterday, not wanting to overwhelm him. In addition to his emotional...onslaught and self-seclusion, they'd been...well, not exactly arguing, but short-tempered and irritable with one another the past week.

"Hey," she said softly as she approached.

He looked up at her, his eyes glassy but no actual tears. He said nothing, but he looked and nodded slightly at the cushion next to him, a silent invitation.

"I'd forgotten about that." She kept her voice quiet as she spoke, sitting down near him. "I guess there are some newer pictures from the past few weeks that still need to be developed and added." She put a tentative hand on his knee. "And the ones since you came home. The best part of the story." She looked up at him, hoping to catch his eyes. He gave her a small smile and put his hand over hers. Her heart relaxed a little.

He cleared his throat before he spoke, his voice gruff with emotion. "Tell me the story?" A few tears slipped out and trailed down his cheeks.

"Of course, love." She reached up with her free hand to brush his tears away. She couldn't tell if her heart was breaking for both of them and what they'd lost or if the pain in her chest was his. It was harder to breathe this way, and she felt her own tears starting, but she was reassured by the fact that he was at least feeling something and that he wasn't shutting her out this time. She hoped desperately this wouldn't be too much for him to handle.

He closed the album so that she could start at the beginning with him. And she told him how she'd found out she was pregnant and the way she wished she could have told him. He looked through each photograph of her in profile at different stages in her pregnancy, and she was suddenly very grateful for Martha's insistence on taking those "belly pictures" she felt so ridiculous posing for. He ran his fingers almost reverently over the bump in each picture, and her heart broke a little more.

Then they came to the ultrasound pictures. "Kallie's first pictures," she said softly, as she reached over to run her own fingers over the grainy, black and white trio of images. The larger one, the best one, was a 4 x 6 of Kallie in profile, a blobbish, vaguely baby-shaped thing surrounded by a black void and scratchy, curved white lines. She got half a smile out of him when she joked about how hard it was to actually make out anything resembling a baby. But then she pointed out the different parts the tech had shown her.

Lois told him all the things, every detail she could remember but hadn’t written in the album. Cravings. Worries. Joys. Morning sickness. Doctor’s appointments. Aching feet and swollen ankles. New, bigger clothes. Shopping for all the baby things. The messy and painful and blissful parts of labor and birth. The first night home and how she'd been one-hundred percent unsure of everything and how Martha had supported her every step of the way. How she'd missed him and longed for him during every second of it.

*#*#*#*

Mid-September 1996
4 months, 2 days Since Clark Left Home

Lois sat in her Jeep in front of the old farmhouse, just staring off into the distance. The engine made the occasional clicking sound as it cooled, and she was reminded once again just how quiet it was out here in the country. She'd only been here about a week, and while it was starting to feel a little more comfortable...it was just...

Everything was different. Everything.

And time was...moving interminably slow but altogether too fast. The days felt longer out here. Too long, sometimes.

And maybe that was because she was used to the fast-paced city, its excitement and hustle and bustle and noise, and her job, an exciting lead around every corner and the pride of exposing the crime and greed to make the world a better place. Or maybe because things were slower out here, and out here...was Clark. All Clark. Everything Clark except for Clark.

Everything was different, and the last thing she wanted to be doing was going to this next ultrasound appointment without Clark. Somehow, she was twenty weeks along already. Clark hadn't even been gone twenty weeks. She cursed the person who had come up with such a ridiculous calculation method, no doubt a man.

So, here she was, eighteen weeks without Clark and twenty weeks pregnant. Time didn't make sense anymore. And nothing made sense without Clark.

She was stalling. She should be at least thinking about trying to come up with the right words to ask Martha, but she couldn't even give herself that excuse. She realized that her hands were still gripping the steering wheel. Releasing and flexing her fingers, she shook her head to try and clear her thoughts. "Get it together, Lane."

After a deep breath, she got out of the car and made her way to the small corner of the barn that housed Martha's art studio. An old radio played a slightly staticky version of "My Girl" on the oldies station, and she could hear Martha happily singing along. Lois felt even more hesitant about interrupting her now.

Instead, she stood and watched for a minute. It was an odd sort of beautiful, watching her decide where this bit and that bob went. She couldn’t say she understood or quite appreciated the woman’s art, but Lois could see that it brought her joy to make it, and that was a beautiful art in and of itself.

Lois toed a sneaker at a few stray pebbles that had found their way to the open doorway. The song came to an end just then, so she cleared her throat to get Martha's attention.

She turned around and smiled. “Oh, Lois, dear! How did your appointment go?" she asked eagerly as she put down her screwdriver and the piece of scrap metal in her hands. "It was twenty weeks today, right? Halfway through now!” This woman had some secret sort of way of finding just the right tone to encourage the excitement Lois desperately needed to feel during this pregnancy while also allowing space for the complicated sadness that came with every milestone that Clark missed.

“Yeah, twenty weeks.” A hand went to her belly and smoothed over it, coming to rest on the side where the baby liked to kick the most. She wasn’t even sure how to ask. “I, uh...Dr. McNeil says I need an anatomy scan, and she referred me to the hospital in Wichita, and I was—"

“Oh my! Is there something wrong or...um, different...she’s concerned about?” She glanced worriedly at Lois' belly and came towards her.

"Oh, sorry! No. No, nothing's wrong." Shoot. She was bungling this badly. "I mean, I assume nothing's wrong. Or that’s what they’ll check with the scan? But the doctor’s not worr—it’s routine. A routine thing. Well...a routine thing when you've got a routine pregnancy, and I...I mean, everything seems okay so far, but...” she trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought, though she wasn't even quite sure why.

Martha nodded quickly and Lois knew she'd instantly understood. "You don’t want to be alone. Of course not." Then the woman who would be her mother-in-law closed the distance between them and placed her hand over Lois'. "When are we going?"

A wave of relief ran through her and a few tears slipped out. "Tomorrow at four?"

"Perfect. It's a date." She wrapped Lois in a brief hug and stood back, holding Lois by the shoulders as if to appraise her...no, admire her before stepping back and dropping her arms.

"Thanks, Martha," Lois said shyly, still entirely unused to such focused attention, at least not when it came to her personal life, especially when it wasn't from Clark.

"You're welcome, dear," Martha said as she slowly turned back to her art bench, picking up the screwdriver and a different piece of scrap metal. "I'll see you for supper," she called over her shoulder.

As Lois made her way slowly back to the house, she wondered if she would ever get used to this, this gentle, easy affection and unconditional acceptance. It was familiar, of course, but it was a wholly different thing than loving and being loved by Clark—that had been hard won, not an easy road, but infinitely worth it. Was she easier to love now? More lovable? Had Clark done that, made her more lovable?

No, he'd made it easier for her to accept love.

*********

Lois’ gaze darted around the exam room. There were posters and tacky artwork scattered on the walls in what was clearly an attempt at being serene and maternal, but they'd failed miserably. There was one poster that reminded women about the importance of staying hydrated while pregnant. That seemed in especially poor taste. Didn’t most women come here with uncomfortably full bladders, as she'd be directed to? Shouldn’t they have express or priority service for pregnant people with full bladders?

She snuck a glance at Martha, who was sitting next to the exam table in one of the two chairs in the room, awkwardly holding both their purses. But then she must have realized it because she set them down on the seat next to her.

She and Martha weren’t best friends by any means, but they could usually hold a conversation without too much effort. Now, it seemed that neither of them could figure out what to say. And Martha seemed quieter and more distracted than her normal self.

Lois swung her sock-clad feet gently back and forth, trying to shed some of her nervous energy, as she finally dared to look at the giant piece of equipment to her right that would show her...she didn’t even know what...the fetus? The baby? Her world? Her future?

The machine didn't look all that different than the machine in Metropolis had when she'd had her first scan. And maybe it was the same, just a different brand or model or something? She wished she'd thought to ask follow-up questions of Dr. McNeil, but she'd been too...worried? Panicked? There was many a journalist in Metropolis that would have loved to see the moment when Lois Lane had been too unnerved and emotional to ask a follow-up question.

As it was now, she had no idea if this was a fancier, more technical scan or...just a longer one with more details? All she knew was that they were about to look to see if anything about her baby—her half-Kryptonian baby—was abnormal. Nervous was an understatement, and she was endlessly grateful that Martha was with her.

That said, she couldn't stop her mind from wandering...wondering how different this would be if Clark had been here. They would have asked all the follow-up questions and been fully prepared for this appointment. And she likely would have been the one comforting Clark, telling him there was nothing to worry about and that things would be just fine.

But she had no idea if things would be just fine. And Clark wasn't here. He was about as far away from here as he could be.

Her breath hitched and she felt the tears prickling at the back of her eyes. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. And then suddenly Martha was back to her normal self and by her side, holding her hand and rubbing her back while murmuring something. Lois couldn’t make out words, but she could breathe again.

She was vaguely aware that the door had opened, and then there was a perky voice in a white lab coat. “All right, Ms. Lane, I’m Stephanie and I’ll be your tech today. Are you ready to see your baby?”

No. No, she wasn’t ready at all. Was she allowed to say no? She just nodded shakily, and Martha squeezed her hand.

“Who do we have with us today?” Stephanie asked, and to her credit, had toned down the chipper in her voice, settling for a gentle and comforting tone. She thumbed the button to turn on the monitor as she waited patiently for Lois’ answer.

“This is my...uh, my husb—my fianc—” Her breath caught again and she stuttered to a halt.

Martha’s hand left Lois’ back and crossed in front of her to shake the technician’s hand. “I’m Martha Kent, Lois’ mother-in-law. My son had to go out of town unexpectedly on business, and Lois was gracious enough to let me tag along instead.”

“I’m glad you could make it,” Stephanie said to Martha, then she turned to look at Lois, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure he wishes he were here just as much as you do.”

Lois just nodded and tried to smile a little, beyond thankful that the woman was so adept at reading the room.

“Don’t worry,” Stephanie said as she put on some gloves and adjusted the ultrasound machine so they could all have a good view of the screen. “We’ll take some pictures for him, and I’m sure you and Grandma here can fill him in on what he’s missed, okay?”

“Thanks,” Lois said softly as she wiped a few stray tears from her face.

Martha gave her hand another squeeze and side-stepped a bit towards the head of the exam table to be more out of the way.

Stephanie made a wry face, half a smile and one raised eyebrow. “Ready for the stirrups?” she asked as she pulled them out.

Lois laid back on the exam table, the white paper crinkling below her, and put her feet up in the stirrups. Stephanie had her tug her pants down to just below her hips, and then she tucked a pad into the waistband—to keep the gel off her pants, she said.

“Okay, this gel is going to feel funny, but I like to try and keep it at least a little warm so it’s not a total shock to your system.”

The gel definitely felt weird, but more uncomfortable was the pressure on her stomach and therefore her bladder as Stephanie moved the small wand around. Lois winced a little at the effort not to pee.

“So, did you have your AFP test done about a month ago?”

Lois bit her lip and hesitated a moment before answering. “Uh, no. We decided not to.” She wished she sounded a little more confident.

“AFP?” Martha asked.

Lois turned her head towards Martha, trying to convey her worry, her choice more with her eyes than her words. “It’s a...blood test that checks for abnormalities.”

She was relieved to see Martha nod in both public and secret understanding. Lois shouldn’t have worried. Martha had raised a full-blooded Kryptonian; she was well-practiced at avoiding medical suspicion.

“That’s okay. Don’t stress about it,” Stephanie assured her. “Plenty of mommas—parents—choose not to do it. I just wanted to know if there was anything I ought to look out for that they didn’t send over in the order.”

Stephanie was quiet for a few minutes as she navigated the wand around on her belly, pressing buttons and turning dials with skill and efficiency. There were numbers and lines and large swathes of scratchy white lines amidst areas of solid black.

Lois couldn’t really make out anything...maybe there was a vague, baby-shaped thing there. But did it look normal? Stephanie was—frustratingly—not giving away any details with her facial expressions or body language. Why wasn't she saying anything?

Lois gave Martha a worried glance and held tight to her hand even though she could feel her own hand starting to get sweaty. Everything was okay, wasn’t it? It had to be okay.

Martha cleared her throat. “How’s everything looking? We’re trying to make heads or tails of things over here and we’re not having any luck,” Martha prompted, her voice light with a touch of humor.

Lois wondered how much of that was forced. Was Martha just as worried?

Stephanie gave them both a warm and hopefully reassuring smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging. Normally, Dr. Xavier will read the scans and then let you know the results, but...you know what? It’s the end of the day, and she's probably just finishing up for the day, so I’ll bet I can snag her and bring her in to read things now for you. Just let me get a few more measurements, and I’ll go get her.”

Lois nodded gratefully.

After a few more minutes, Stephanie finished up and let Lois know she could clean up and finally use the restroom across the hall while she went to get the doctor.

When Lois got back to the exam room, she gave Martha an awkward smile that hardly deserved the label. She longed to talk with Martha now that they had the room to themselves for a few minutes, figured there would be a hundred and one things she wanted to say to her, but she couldn't think of a single one. But it didn't matter. Martha seemed to understand, and she held her hand and gave it a squeeze.

As much as Lois had anticipated the doctor's arrival and what she had to say, Lois had a hard time focusing on any of the words. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions, and all she heard was 'normal' and 'just fine' over and over while Martha held her hand and rubbed her back. And while most of her sagged inwardly with relief at the words, some small part of her resisted the very notion that her and Clark's child could be normal when all they would ever be was extraordinary.

*#*#*#*

They'd long since set the photo album aside, but she continued to answer all his questions about pregnancy and birth, grateful for the opportunity she hadn't been sure she'd ever get. At some point, she'd shifted and was now lying across his lap with her head resting in the crook of his arm, his other arm draped loosely over her abdomen. Eventually, his questions ran out and they just stayed there quietly for a few minutes and let the odd melange of emotions pass over and through and between them, Lois grateful for this moment of respite from the tension and uncertainty, wistful and brief as it may be.

Her fingertips loosely traced the contours of his hand on her stomach, and her mind wandered back to a simpler time, back when trying to figure out how to deal with having a new boyfriend who wasn't so normal or ordinary after all was her biggest problem. They'd talked then only briefly about marriage and kids, and only vaguely, really. Clark had been so desperate to show her how terrifically ordinary he could be.

But there on that island, and plenty of moments since then, she'd seen glimpses of something he wanted more desperately than being ordinary. As much as she hated what fate had done to them, all the struggles they'd faced and how much pain they'd been through—were still going through—she couldn't be anything but thankful for the one good thing they'd gotten.


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