26


Coffee with a lot of milk and sugar. For the second time that day. I stare down at the mug in front of me, watching the bubbles drift out to the edges of the ceramic. Lois settles in her seat next to me, her own coffee cup in hand. She closes her laptop and pushes it and her work notes over to the other side of the table. I take a small sip of the hot liquid and then raise my eyes to meet hers. She reaches over and sets a hand gently on top of mine.

What did I ever do to deserve her? I wonder, not for the first time. I offer a weak smile and then lower my eyes again to my coffee.

I’d slept for several hours, I guess, and it’s now after lunch time. Like earlier, I have no appetite, but my headache is gone, and my mind is clear. I hope it will stay that way. I recall earlier, when I’d felt such an urgent need to tell Lois everything, but I’d been unable to form coherent thoughts. No more waiting now, I’m afraid. I sip my coffee and sit up straighter, shifting slightly in my seat to face her.

“Lois, I don’t know how to tell you…”

I shake my head as I realize how hard this is going to be. Where do I start? How much do I tell her? What if—what if she…? Her chair scrapes on the ground as she scoots it closer to mine, and she leans against me and wraps an arm around my shoulders.

“I’ll help you, sweetheart,” she offers softly. She kisses my cheek. “You ended up having to fight in the war, didn’t you?”

I close my eyes and nod. “Yes, I…I did. A month in, Ching and the Council insisted that I had enough training and was ready. They said the troops needed my leadership. Ching—he explained that…”

My voice trails off as I remember the conversation. Lois squeezes my hand, keeping me in the present, and I clear my throat. Don’t drift off, I tell myself. Stay present.

“He explained that it was my duty to…to kill Nor and that the only way to restore peace to New Krypton was for me to fight and defeat Nor in one-on-one combat.” But she already knows that, I think. Or at least, some version of that, which Clark had written about in his article.

“Right,” she says, confirming my suspicion.

I rub my thumb absently against the rough ceramic of the mug and blink several times before continuing.

“I met with the Council of Elders, together and with each member individually. I tried to get them to hear me, hear my side of things. Peace cannot be built on top of violence. I tried to tell them this. And Ching and Zara, too. But no one would listen. They just insisted that the law was the law. And the law said that I must defeat Nor to take back control over my people.”

The words start to come easier as I detach myself from the emotions I’d felt. Yep, emotionless, logical, direct, impassive. Right. Just like them. I am Kryptonian, after all.

“The first day I led my army… I remember it was so hot, and we wore these heavy black battle suits. And…”

I raise my eyes to meet hers. She wipes away a tear quickly, hoping I don’t see it. I reach over and touch her cheek, which is still wet.

No, I was wrong. I may be Kryptonian, but I’m also human. So very human. And my heart hurts seeing her cry.

“Lois, I never wanted any of this,” I say quietly.

“I know, sweetheart.”

“I had to do things that I’m not proud of,” I admit, lowering my eyes.

Shakily, I lean into her, our foreheads touching. She doesn’t back away from me; she doesn’t pull away or admonish me for my sins. Instead, she wraps her arm around my shoulders and holds me tighter. I continue, because there’s nothing else to do now. She needs the whole truth. No matter how terrible.

“I gave in to their arguments, and I led my army into battle. And I…I was really good at it—the leading, the fighting, all of it.”

I pause as the room darkens. A passing cloud, or my imagination playing tricks on me? A reddish hue glows from the window. My imagination. Knock it off, please. I grit my teeth and keep going, again. Telling her my worst truth.

My worst truth summarized in six terrible words.

“I killed a lot of people.”

She tenses up next to me but doesn’t move. I feel her hand grip my shoulder and her breath heat my cheek as she exhales. She smells like coffee and chocolate. All of these things, I hang onto as the red tint of the room grows. The room heats up. The light rain outside turns to a howling, dusty wind.

No, I will not go back there again.

I start talking again, clutching my coffee mug tighter.

“It’s what my nightmares are about. And my panic attacks. I had to do it. I had no choice, Lois, you know that, right?” Rhetorical question. I keep talking. “I led my army for two months. Every day for two months, we fought Nor’s troops. There were so many of them. Thousands of soldiers. And my army killed them all. Ching—Ching said we didn’t take prisoners. It was not Kryptonian to show mercy. We…we had to kill them all. I had to—God, I hate myself for it, Lois. I-I’m not the same man I was. I—”

I collapse into her, no longer able to hold back my grief. My grief at all that I’d lost. I’d lost myself. I’d lost who I was and what I believed in. I’m no longer me. But she doesn’t reject me. No, she holds me tighter as I cry into her shoulder. She rubs my back and kisses my cheek and murmurs “I love you, sweetheart” into my ear. And I cling to her.

“I love you so much, Lois. Please, please forgive me. I didn’t want any of that. Please forgive me. I’m so scared to lose you,” I sob, burying my head into her hair.

“Oh, sweetie, you’ll never lose me,” she promises. Her hand strokes my hair gently. “I love you, always.”

How? How can she still love me? I want to ask, but I don’t. I just hold her and let her hold me. She keeps the darkness out. She grounds me. She anchors me here, in the present.

But I’m so tired again, so exhausted from it all. Three months of battle on New Krypton. One month of being dead. Four days back. God, I’m so tired.

“Thank you, Lois,” I murmur, closing my eyes. “Thank you. Thank you. I love you. I need you.”

“I know, sweetheart,” she whispers back to me. “I’m here.”

“Always?”

“Always, Clark.”

We have so much more to talk about. There’s so much more to tell her. But at least she knows my worst truth. And somehow, she still loves me.



27


The afternoon passes slowly as we talk in short stretches. She listens and sometimes asks questions, but mostly just listens, holds me, and reassures me that she loves me. Occasionally, I am overwhelmed by my memories, and I have to stop talking for a while. But she still understands. She holds me, rubs my back, and tells me about what happened during my four-month absence.

I learn a lot about my doppelganger as well. She tells me about how he became Superman when another Lois Lane from another universe was brought to his world and how he worked together with that Lois Lane to defeat an evil villain from the future named Tempus. She also explains his early encounter with my father; apparently, on only the second day after he’d come to my world, my father had accused him of fabricating the article he wrote about Superman’s return from New Krypton. He was hurting, my father—his grief was fresh and strong, Lois says, and that has colored his feelings about the other Clark, despite all the good that Clark has done. In all of her explanations, I hear what I already know—that this Clark has been supportive, kind, and reliable, all without asking for anything in return. He is a genuinely good person, and Lois respects him very much.

I’m glad my world has been in such good hands.

After several more hours, as the sunset fades to blackness outside, we end up sitting together on her couch, and she turns on a movie—The Princess Bride, one of her favorites. She leans back into my arms, and I hold her as we forget the seriousness of the day.

Halfway or so through the movie, I feel myself starting to drift off to sleep. I shift a bit, pulling Lois tighter into my arms, in an attempt to keep myself awake. She glances back at me, and I lean in and kiss her softly.

A sudden, sharp pain in my head forces me to pull away, and I screw my eyes shut as the pain spreads quickly into my chest, arms, and legs. The pain is distinct; I’ve felt it before, but not for many months now. Kryptonite. But…how?

“Clark, are you okay?”

I shake my head and move away from her as a sense of panic rises in my chest. With a start, I realize that the pain and fear are not mine. They are the other Clark’s. And then, as quickly as it came, the pain vanishes, accompanied by a sense of relief. I blink several times to get my bearings. Lois sits a few feet away on the couch, her eyes full of concern as they study mine. She reaches out to take my hands, which still tremble, and I scoot closer to her and wrap my arms around her.

“What happened, Clark? That was very sudden,” she says as her hands rub my back gently.

“The other Clark—he—dammit. Ah, sorry.” I feel my cheeks turn slightly red as I apologize for the mild curse. Lois pushes away from me, her hands moving to my knees.

“Clark, what is it?” She stands up and pulls me up with her. Her fear is palpable. “Is he okay? What happened?”

“I-I don’t know. I just felt…” I close my eyes and try to connect with him, but everything is fuzzy. I can’t sense pain or discomfort, but I also can’t sense much of anything. I know he’s conscious. And moving. And scared. That’s about it.

“What?” Her voice is higher than normal. She is scared for him now too. And I don’t blame her. I need to connect with him.

“There was kryptonite. I’m sorry, give me a second,” I reply tersely, and I move away from her and sit back on the couch. I close my eyes, rest my hands on my knees, and concentrate on relaying a quick message to him.

What happened? Where are you? Are you okay?

This time, I feel a flicker of our connection, and fear rattles me. I have to remind myself that the feeling is his, not mine. I open my eyes, but stare at my hands on my knees. I see an alleyway, and I feel an aching pain and weakness in my limbs. His limbs. His pain, I remind myself again. His voice is almost incoherent and obviously shaky, but he responds.

“Sorry if I—there was kryptonite. Luthor testing me. Bomb threat at high school. I’m okay, but no powers. Could use a ride.”

A bomb threat at a school? I raise my eyes abruptly to look at Lois.

“Turn on the news,” I say quickly. She obliges and then sits heavily next to me as a reporter stands among a group of panicking parents and students exiting Metropolis High. Lois takes my hand, and I swallow hard as I close my eyes again to concentrate. I feel his exhaustion and nausea, and I’m glad that I’m sitting down. We’re on our way. Be there in five minutes.

“Thank you.”

Our connection falters and fades, and I open my eyes and push myself back to my feet.

“We have to go help him,” I tell her, pulling her with me as I head toward the front door.

“Clark, wait—what is going on?” She’s confused. Right. I didn’t tell her.

“I’ll tell you on the way. We need to hurry.”

I squeeze her hand and then grab us each a coat from the rack near the door. She follows me, picking up her purse as we exit the apartment. She quickly locks the deadbolts and throws her coat on as we jog to the elevator.

As I climb into the Jeep next to her a moment later, I reach out to Clark again. He’s sitting down with the long red cape wrapped around him, trying to keep warm. The feeling of being cold is unfamiliar to him, as is the painful aching in his chest, head, and limbs. I glance sideways at Lois. Her jaw is tight, and she grips the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles have turned white. She quickly pulls the Jeep away from the curb and speeds off down the road toward the high school.

“Tell me, please, Clark. Is he okay?” she asks uneasily, her eyes darting to me briefly before focusing back on the road.

“He is…in a safe place right now,” I answer carefully. He’s not okay. He’s hurting still, despite what seemed like a fairly short exposure, and he’s terrified. But he’s not in danger. “He was exposed to kryptonite, although I think it was a short exposure, and he was able to get away from it. He mentioned Luthor and some test, but I—”

“Oh, God, I—my cell phone, Clark, can you—” She motions almost frantically to her phone, which sits in a cupholder between us. I hastily open up the phone and see several notifications, including a missed call from Clark several hours ago and a couple text messages, one of which is from Clark, sent about an hour ago. It is accompanied by a photo of bank records showing a large transaction between the Church Group and a company called Dynamont Ltd.

I read the text message out loud. “‘Looks a little suspicious to me. Can I stop by later to talk it through? Also have some info re: Luthor and the K.’”

“Shoot. He knew something. I shouldn’t have ignored my phone all day,” she complains in a low voice as she swerves onto a side street. Up ahead, colorful lights of firetrucks, police cars, and other emergency vehicles flash brightly. We are close to the school. She slows down as her eyes widen at the scene in front of us. “God, I hope he’s okay.”

“Me too,” I agree. I close my eyes and immediately connect with him this time. He is still cold, nauseous, and achy. I have a bad feeling about this; such a short exposure to regular kryptonite shouldn’t cause lingering effects like this. I shake off the unease and quickly tell him, We are nearby. Where are you?

I feel him stir, anxiety building as he tries to figure out how to help us navigate to him. I grit my teeth against his feelings of dizziness and nausea and focus on trying to follow his chaotic thoughts.

“I’m here,” he thinks, but quickly realizes that means nothing to me. A moment later, he projects an image of a green storefront lined with old used books.

I scan the buildings ahead of us and easily recognize the storefront. I point ahead as I see a flash of red material fluttering out along the edge of the building across the street from the bookstore.

“There he is,” I say out loud. Then, silently for his benefit, I add, Gotcha.

“I see him.”

Lois pulls up to the curb as close as she can, and Clark releases his grip on the wall and begins to stumble toward the Jeep. He is wobbly and unsteady, and I quickly hop out of the car to help him.

“Here, man, I got you.”

My arm loops around his waist, and he leans on me as we move the last few feet to the car. I hear a fleeting “Thank you,” and I reach ahead of us and open the door to the backseat. He nearly collapses into the car, his long red cape falling unceremoniously over him as he shifts onto his back, groaning in pain.

“Th-thank you,” he repeats out loud this time, his voice weak. Then he closes his eyes as I shut the door to the backseat and move back to my seat in the front. Lois twists around and watches him for a moment. Then, when I’m settled and my seatbelt is fastened, she puts shifts the Jeep back into drive and turns around to head back the way we came.

She seems to make a split-second decision and turns right instead of left at one intersection, however, and I quickly realize she’s decided to take him to my apartment—his apartment, now, I suppose—rather than back to her place. We continue the rest of the short trip in silence, and I sit quietly, my eyes closed in concentration, as I monitor his condition through our telepathic connection. His pain is worsening, and he feels dizzy and confused. Thankfully, I’m finally able to detach myself enough that I can know what he’s feeling without actually feeling it myself, and I frown as I sense that his level of pain is continuing to grow rather than fade. I’d encountered kryptonite that did this same thing once before; it was one of the worst experiences of my life—until New Krypton, that is.

Lois pulls up outside Clark’s apartment and shuts off the car. From the backseat, Clark groans in agony as he pushes himself into a sitting position. I glance back at him; his eyes are screwed tightly shut, and he is terribly pale—not a good look for the Man of Steel. Right. He’s in the suit still. I quickly scan the street before hopping out of the car. All is quiet, so no one should see Superman limping up the steps to Clark Kent’s apartment late at night. Lois follows me out of the car and hurries around to meet me while Clark grasps the door and tries to pull himself up. Lois reaches out to try to help him, but he waves her off. He seems to think he should be able to do it himself, and I understand the sentiment. However, he nearly collapses as his legs give out, and I move to his side.

“Here, let me help you,” I say, and I again loop my arm around his waist as I had earlier to support him.

“I should—I shouldn’t need help b-by now,” he protests in a weak voice. But I can also hear his thoughts and feel his weakness, which grows with each step. He mumbles a quick, “S-sorry,” as he leans on me more toward the top of the steps leading to his apartment, and my own fears mingle with his as I feel him struggling to breathe. It is the feeling of having a heavy weight pressing down on my chest, as I’d felt in the moment before I died. I swallow and follow Lois inside the apartment, clenching my jaw as the effort of supporting him begins to tire me. We manage to get to the couch, and I carefully help him lower himself down onto the soft cushions. His eyes are closed tightly, and he covers his face with one hand, groaning again.

“Why is it getting worse?” he complains. Lois steps up around me, her hand brushing against my back, and she then kneels down next to him and gently touches his forehead.

“He’s burning up, Clark,” she says to me as she stands back up and steps away from him. Her arms cross over her chest, and she glances back up at me. “What is this? This doesn’t seem like kryptonite.”

I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her to me.

“It is kryptonite. Remember last January. The Newtrich sisters.” She looks up at me sharply, and I grimace as I nod my head. “It’s the same feeling I had then. Someone knew to melt down the kryptonite and then let it resolidify. It’s going to get worse before it gets better, I’m afraid.”

“He doesn’t deserve this,” she murmurs, shifting in my embrace to face him again.

He doesn’t seem to be aware of our conversation, which makes sense, now that I’m sure I know what’s going on, but he groans and forces his eyes open as he turns his head toward us. Lois tenses up as she sees the pain in his expression, and I squeeze her shoulders gently. Clark shakes his head, but immediately regrets it; I feel his dizziness and nausea, and he closes his eyes again.

“What’s happening? I-I haven’t felt this before,” he says, his voice almost a whisper.

Lois glances up at me briefly and then moves back to his side. She kneels down next to the couch and softly brushes his hair back as she attempts to explain why he’s feeling so terrible still.

“Clark thinks that the kryptonite you were exposed to was a modified form that was melted down. The effects are different from those of regular kryptonite and can last a long time, maybe even several hours. Luthor now has your medical files, so he must have read Dr. Klein’s notes on the effects of this modified form of kryptonite.” Her hand lingers on his forehead as she speaks, and I can sense that her touch provides him a small amount of comfort.

However, I also sense his confusion and realize he couldn’t hear everything she said. I step closer to them and kneel down next to Lois. Maybe he’ll be able to hear my thoughts better than he can hear her voice.

Lois said they have Superman’s medical files, so they will know this, I explain slowly, doing my best to focus my thoughts for him. When kryptonite is melted down and then resolidified, even a short exposure hits hard. The effects will last for a few hours, and it will get much worse before it gets better. I was exposed like this once, I add. The memory surfaces—a short exposure to the deadly green rock, only seconds probably, and then the pain, getting worse and worse. I’d been lucky Lois had been with me at the time. She’d managed to somehow knock out both of the Newtrich sisters (how and with what I’m still not sure), tie them up, and then call the police while getting us both to safety. She’d also taken the modified kryptonite, safely wrapped up in lead foil, so we could later get it to Dr. Klein at S.T.A.R. Labs. The memory is painful, and I push it away; Clark doesn’t need to see that right now.

“Great,” he responds shortly. I almost laugh.

“He can’t really hear you, but I can communicate with him,” I explain to Lois in a low voice. She nods.

“Can you tell him that I’m really sorry I missed his calls and texts earlier? God, I feel like this is all my fault,” she mumbles, frowning at me. “Tell him we’ll stay here as long as he needs. He must be scared right now.”

“He’s strong, hon. He’ll be okay,” I assure her, reaching out to rub her back. “But I’ll tell him.”

I close my eyes again as she moves her hand to his shoulder, and I focus on passing along her message to him. As I open up our connection more, I feel the world start to spin around me, and I have to remind myself again that this is his perception, not mine. I clench my jaw.

She says she’s sorry she missed your calls earlier. And that we’ll stay here as long as you need us, I tell him. He is trying to contain his panic; he’s never felt this sick before. In fact, I sense that he’s only even been exposed to regular kryptonite one time. Lucky him. I sigh and drop my chin to my chest as I relay a bit more information to him about this nasty modified version of the deadly green rock. For me, the exposure was very brief, and the effects lasted about ten hours. I tried to sleep it off, but sleep is hard when everything hurts.

That may have been a slight understatement there. If I recall, it was actually probably closer to twelve hours. And even then, I could still barely stand on my own. It had taken at least a day for my powers to return. But he doesn’t need to know that now.

Immediately, he responds just as I’d expect. “Please, tell her she doesn’t need to apologize.” He then curls up onto his side, groaning, as another wave of pain hits him. “God. This is the worst.”

Try dying, I almost think to him, but I hold it back. No, I know how much pain he’s in right now, and it’s no joke. I stand up, and Lois follows me. She exhales sharply as she watches him struggle to breathe.

“We should move him to the bedroom so he can sleep it off,” she suggests, looking up at me.

“Definitely,” I agree.

She kneels back down next to him and sets her hand gently on his shoulder.

“Let’s get you to the bedroom, Clark. I think you’ll be more comfortable there,” she says softly. I sense his initial confusion, but then he understands.

“’K,” he manages. He opens his eyes and tries to push himself up. I feel the weakness in his limbs and hear his fear as he stutters, “I-I can’t…”

Lois and I both reach for him together, and I silently tell him, Let us help. Working in unison, Lois and I lift him off the couch and into the bedroom.

As we enter the bedroom, I’m suddenly very aware that this space used to be mine. It feels foreign now, even though he’s seemed to have changed very little in the way of décor. I don’t give myself time to study the room too closely, however, as his weight leaning on me grows. Lois leaves his side for a moment and pulls back the comforter on the bed, and I help him the final couple steps until he collapses onto the mattress. He manages to roll over on to his back, and I lift his legs up onto the bed.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice trembling.

“Just rest now,” Lois replies softly. She shifts down and slips off his boots and then pulls the blanket up over him. She touches his forehead again, frowning, and glances up at me. “Did you run a fever after you were exposed?” she asks.

I feel all of Clark’s pain slip away into darkness, and I know he’s lost consciousness. The weight is lifted from my chest, and my mind is clear. I nod to her.

“I did. You were really worried about it then too, I think. It’s all kinda fuzzy though,” I admit. I rest my hands on her shoulders. “He’s unconscious now.”

She nods and gently touches his cheek one more time before standing up and following me out of the bedroom. I scan the apartment, noting again that there are very few differences. He’s switched out a throw blanket I had on the couch and removed the personal photographs I’d had on the walls and side table. Otherwise, the room looks basically the same as when I’d left it. Lois places her hand on my back as I stop near the dining table.

“How about I make us some tea?” I propose, turning to face her and wrapping my arms around her waist. She leans into me and nods.

“That sounds good. It could be a long night. I don’t want to leave him,” she says.

A small part of me wonders whether I should be jealous of how much she cares about him, but I realize that I too don’t want to leave yet. She was right earlier when she said that he doesn’t deserve this; it should be me there in that bed, fighting pain, weakness, and a rising fever—not him.

I release her and step into the kitchen as she settles at the table and pulls out her phone. As I open the cupboard, another wave of familiarity washes over me. We’d spent so many late nights together, just like this. Working—or not working—here together. Lemon balm tea, I decide after rummaging through the full shelf containing various teas. I remove a small gray canister and set it on the counter and then start the water boiling. At least I can usually make tea without burning anything.

As the water heats, I turn back to Lois. She is staring at her phone, a scowl on her face. I know the look; it’s something related to a story they’ve been working on.

“What is it, hon?” I ask curiously, moving to the table to sit next to her. She sighs and pushes the phone in front of me. The photograph Clark had sent her earlier is open.

“He connected the dots on a story we’re working on and found evidence that might link Luthor to the Church Group and Intergang,” she explains. “See this here?” She points to the words “Dynamont Ltd.” on the screen. “Dynamont Ltd. They are a subsidiary of Luthor Corp. And this transaction occurred the day before Cost-Mart, which you know is owned by the Churches, announced its expansion into New York City.”

“That’s a pretty sizeable transaction,” I agree. “But the Church Group—weren’t they a charity organization? Are you thinking they are tied to Intergang?”

She nods and continues staring at the phone. I can almost see the wheels turning in her head. The whistling of the teapot distracts me, and I quickly stand and move back to the stove. I remove the pot from the heat and add the tea
leaves to steep. As I take two mugs out of the cupboard, Lois inhales sharply and clears her throat.

“It all makes sense. The Churches—they must be…” She trails off for a moment and looks up at me, pursing her lips. She shakes her head and restarts. “After you left, the Church Group claimed that they would try to fill Superman’s boots… to help law enforcement. However, we noticed that crime rates actually increased in areas where the Church Group was most active. It’s possible—”

“That the Church Group is a front for Intergang,” I finish for her. I frown and turn back to the stove. Pouring us each a cup of the fragrant tea, I consider something else that Clark had said. “Earlier, Clark said something to me—uh, telepathically, that is—about Luthor testing him, I think,” I recall. “If Luthor was responsible for the kryptonite, it would all make sense then, right?” I set her tea in front of her and sit down again.

She looks confused for a moment, but then nods as she takes a sip from her mug.

“Clark did say he thought Luthor was taking over as the new head of Intergang. And of course, if that’s true, then—”

“It makes sense that Luthor would want to take out Superman, who has always been Intergang’s biggest obstacle,” I conclude. I shake my head, and my gaze drifts toward the bedroom. “It should be me in there, Lois. Not him.”

I hear her inhale sharply, and she then stands and moves behind me. Her arms wrap around me, and she hugs me tightly.

“It shouldn’t be either of you. Luthor and the Churches should be behind bars, and we should have had all of that kryptonite destroyed. We couldn’t have guessed Luthor Corp. would buy S.T.A.R. Labs and confiscate the kryptonite,” she says softly. She kisses my cheek and then releases me to return to her seat.

“At the time, I thought it was the right thing to have Dr. Klein in charge of the kryptonite.”

“It’s not his fault either. He had no say in it,” she argues.

I nod in agreement and shift my gaze from the bedroom to her. She is watching me carefully, concern in her eyes.

“I know. But we should have just gotten rid of it. We should get rid of all of it. Toss it into the Sun.” I tense as I realize my voice has taken on a deeper tone, and my arms almost cross over my chest. I’m not Superman anymore though. Superman is lying unconscious in the other room. I force my hands back to the table and cautiously grip my mug of tea.

“Well, I certainly don’t disagree with you on that,” she smirks. I give her a weak smile and sip my tea.

A rustling from the other room startles us both, and together, we stand and move into the bedroom. Clark groans in his sleep and shifts around uncomfortably. He is pale and breathing in short, quick breaths, and a thin sheen of sweat covers his forehead. Lois frowns and steps up to the bed next to him. She lays her hand on his forehead, and he immediately relaxes into the mattress and sighs.

“He’s burning up,” she notes, glancing up at me anxiously. “I wish we could do something.”

“It will get worse before it gets better, hon,” I remind her. “But we can try to help.”

I move into the bathroom, grab a washcloth, and wet it with cool water. Then I hurry back into the bedroom and hand it to her. She carefully sets the cool washcloth on his forehead as I back away a step and rest my hands on her shoulders. She keeps one hand on his shoulder and covers my right hand with her own. And we stay there in silence for a few minutes. He seems to rest much more comfortably when she’s there next to him. I swap out the washcloth with cool water a couple more times, and after maybe another thirty minutes, his fever seems to break.

Lois is getting tired, I can tell, and honestly, I am too. It’s been a really long day, and it is getting late. She yawns and rubs her eyes, but stays sitting by his side.

“Come on, hon. Let him rest, and you can tell me more about the Churches and Luthor,” I suggest, reaching over to her and taking her hand. She looks up at me briefly and nods, then glances back at Clark again. His breathing has stabilized, and he seems to be much more comfortable than earlier. But as soon as she stands to follow me, Clark shifts onto his side, curling up with a groan. She hesitates for just a moment, then turns and shuffles slowly out of the room ahead of me.

Wordlessly, I reheat the tea, and we settle together on the couch. She leans back against me, and I wrap my arms around her. My exhaustion from earlier in the day begins to creep back in, and Lois seems to be feeling it too. Her eyes close as she rests her head on my chest, and she lets out a long breath.

“Maybe you should go back to your apartment and get some rest, hon,” I suggest, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on him. And I can call you when he wakes up.”

She immediately shakes her head and sits up. “No, I can’t leave him tonight. I—” She turns in my arms to look up at me. “I just can’t, sweetheart. You understand, right?”

“Of course, hon,” I reply, and I tighten my arms around her again. She is silent for a few minutes, though her fingers absently trace circles against my chest. She then lifts her head off my chest and reaches up to kiss me. The gentle
touch comforts me, easing the anxiety that had been building in my chest. She pulls back and rests her head against me again.

“You should go back to my place and rest, though. There’s no reason for both of us to stay,” she says quietly.

My chest constricts at the thought. No, not that I don’t trust her here alone with him. No, it’s mainly that I’m terrified at the thought of being alone, without her, all night long. She feels me tense up, I think, because she pushes away from me and sits up again. Her hands reach out to take mine, and she smiles weakly at me.

“I-I don’t know, Lois,” I fumble, lowering my eyes. She pats my leg and stands up. My eyes follow her as she stretches and then glances toward the bedroom. She turns back to me.

“It’ll only be for a few hours. I’ll get some sleep on the couch here, and you can come back first thing in the morning,” she proposes. But she frowns as I stand up to join her. “You trust me, don’t you? I mean—”

“Of course I do, hon,” I interject, reaching out to her and brushing a lock of hair back behind her ear. And that’s the truth. I trust her. “I trust you, and I trust him. I just…get anxious being alone.” There, the admission is not so hard. She smiles at me again and then kisses my cheek. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. It makes sense. She is right, as always. I swallow hard and continue. “However, you’re right. Since it’s only a few hours, I should be okay.”

I lean forward into her until our foreheads are touching. God, I love her so much. I envelop her in my arms, and I feel her hands press into my chest. For a moment, I am almost transported back into our life from four months ago—just before I left for New Krypton. We’d spent an entire night together here, sitting on my couch, talking. For hours, we’d discussed whether I should leave, whether we should announce Superman’s departure to the world, and what would become of Clark Kent. We’d stayed up all night long. She’d cried a lot, but I’d stayed strong for her, because that’s who I was then.

Now, she’s staying strong for both of us.

“Your keys are in your purse?” I ask quietly, and she pulls back slightly out of the embrace and nods. “Okay. You’ll be right here when I get back in the morning then?”

With a wicked smile, she replies, “Right here. Naked and ready to go.”

“Lois!”

She laughs and pulls me into a hug.

“I love you, sweetheart. Drive carefully, okay?”

“Of course. Call me if you need me.”

And I kiss her gently before heading out the door.