Last time:
Clark
Was Lois my soul mate instead of Lana?
Or had she... become my soul mate because we'd consummated our relationship?
Repeatedly.
And I'd instigated the last two times.
I was going to have to ask her about birth control and if she could be pregnant. And if she thought there was any possibility that Christopher was my son. *If* he was my son, she'd gotten pregnant on a Saturday and started getting hungry – really hungry – on Tuesday. Wasn't that awfully fast for a pregnancy to start affecting a woman? Was that a Kryptonian thing too? Maybe?
I decided to just watch her and see what her appetite was like during the next week. It wouldn't mean anything if she wasn't starving by mid-week but if she was...
I sighed as I glanced at my watch. Lois was going to want to go to the hospital and I should probably take her. I lifted up into the air and headed back towards Metropolis as fast as I could, slowing enough not to rattle windows but still fast enough to not be seen when I reached the house.
*~*89*~*
~~~~~
Lois
~~~~~
I was dressed and ready to go, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave Christopher just yet. Not knowing that it might be possible that he was Clark's son.
Clark was nowhere to be found. Jessica hadn't seen him. Vicki and Ollie hadn't seen him.
If he wasn't back soon, I was going without him.
I heard the beeping sound that indicated someone was entering our part of the house.
Clark didn't look at me as he walked in the main door to our room. He turned into a blur and a second later was dressed in a long sleeve collared shirt and a pair of blue jeans, complete with boots laced up.
"Ready to go to the hospital?" he asked, still without looking at me.
I stood up and grabbed my purse. "Let's go."
I stared out the window the whole way. How was I going to deal with being with him in public? Or would it matter?
Somehow I doubted he'd be any closer to me than absolutely necessary.
Maybe it would have been better if we'd never made love.
I wouldn't have spent the time since I woke up staring out the window reliving it. I would have headed to the hospital.
We spent the day with Daddy when we could and virtually alone in the waiting room the rest of the time. I thought Clark wished that someone, anyone, would come by or that his boss would call him and tell him there was some sort of mailroom emergency and he just *had* to come in or something.
I didn't think we'd said more than a dozen words to each other all day.
The Jeep hadn't quite stopped when I was out of it. I headed upstairs and found Jessica putting Christopher to bed.
"How's your dad?" she asked as I walked in the room.
"Better," I said, taking my son from her as he reached for me. "I've got him. Thank you so much for your help the last couple of days."
"My pleasure," she said, running a hand over the back of Christopher's head. "Let me know if there's anything else I can do."
"I will. Thanks."
I settled into the glider and rocked with him, his head resting on my shoulder. I heard Clark come in a few minutes later.
I rocked with Christopher until he was asleep, hoping that Clark would be as well. I carefully laid him in his crib and quietly raised the side.
I headed back into our room, noticing only that Clark wasn't in bed as I headed towards the bathroom.
"Could you be pregnant?" he asked, startling me.
I stopped in my tracks, but didn't turn around. "I don't know," I told him. "I guess I'll let you know in a couple weeks."
"Is that how long it takes to know?"
I turned and crossed my arms in front of me, glaring at him.
He was sitting in one of the chairs, turned to face the window, staring out over the darkness. His elbows were resting on his knees and his head was bowed.
"Yeah, that's how long it takes," I said defiantly. "Of course, last time I got pregnant, I didn't know until I was like ten weeks along, but I bet we can figure it out before then. Hell, you might be able to right now if I'd let you do your buzz buzz vision thing on my uterus. For all I know, your little guys are faster and a fertilized egg would already be *flying* down the fallopian tube."
He didn't say anything.
"Don’t worry. When the divorce happens, I still won't ask you for anything."
He stood up and turned to look at me then. "You think I won't be part of my baby's life? You *really* think I could just leave Christopher now? Much less a baby I *know* is mine? That I know is my biological child?"
I shrugged. "Like Lana's gonna want to play step mommy to a child that's mine but not yours or to a child that constantly reminds her that you cheated on her with your wife. You'll have your own kids with her. I'd never stop you from seeing them or anything like that, but I won't let them be constantly put in a situation where all they hear is about how your 'real family' comes first or some such nonsense."
"I wouldn't let her do that," he told me.
I shrugged. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. The odds of me being pregnant are probably astronomically small anyway." I turned again to head to the bathroom.
"Could Christopher be my son?"
The question was quiet but it stopped me in my tracks. "What?"
"You heard me. Could Christopher be my son?"
I turned to look at him, visions of us in front of the fireplace at the cabin dancing in my head. "Why would you think that?"
He sighed and sat back down. "That night, I dreamed that Lana and I... that she was there with me in front of the fireplace."
My eyes filled with tears. So he'd had the same... dream or whatever as I had. But if it wasn’t a dream, if it was real, he'd dreamed of Lana.
He kept talking. "But it was weird. The longer it's been, the more it's you there with me. Even the next day, it was me and someone who kept morphing between you and Lana, but the longer we've been married, the more you're there and she's not."
"So?"
He leaned back and ran his hands through his hair. "So, this morning, I was remembering things that I hadn't before and I don't know if I'm just superimposing last night on the memory or... if it really happened."
"Like what?" I asked cautiously.
"The scar from the rock throwing incident. The mole..." He made a vague motion in my direction, but I knew what he was talking about. "You, her, whoever, kissing the scar on my chest. Things like that."
He stood and started pacing. "And I don't know if I'm going crazy or what. He *looks* like me. He has the same mole on his lip that I do. I get comments *all* the *time* about how much he looks like me." He looked distraught. "Is it *possible* that he's my son?"
I sighed. "I don't know," I said quietly. "I had the same dream, but it was always you. It was never Joe or anything like that."
"And?" I could barely hear him.
I shrugged. "It's possible, I guess. We were both so out of it. Neither of us really *remembers* anything. We just have some kind of weird, fuzzy dream sequence." I hesitated slightly before adding, "Just like we've always told everyone."
"What about..." He shifted uncomfortably. "...the next day? Were there any... signs that something might have happened?"
"I don't know. I wasn't... looking for signs that I'd had sex the night before. I was sore all over and so tired... I don't really remember."
"So he could be my son?"
"Does it really matter?" I asked, unable to keep the trace of bitterness out of my voice.
"Of course it matters," he snapped.
"Why?" I snapped back. "I thought you already loved him like he was your own. What difference would it make if he was? Besides the whole half-alien thing?"
Pain flitted across his face, but surely he knew I wouldn't think that was a *bad* thing or something. If Clark ever did have a biological child, the child, technically, would be half-alien. It was a statement of fact, not an insult or anything of the kind.
"I do love him. More than anything."
"But what difference does it make? Once Navance dies or the five years is up, you'll go back to Lana. Christopher being your biological child doesn't change the way you feel about her or about me or anything else. And I'm not going to stay – or let you stay – just because of DNA."
"Maybe it doesn't make a difference," he said quietly.
"I told you before I wouldn't ever keep you from him and that was when I didn't think there was any chance he was your son. I wouldn't keep him from you."
"I know." He sighed. "So when will we know if you're pregnant again?"
"Couple weeks, I guess." Tears filled my eyes. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I shouldn’t have kissed you last night. I shouldn't have asked you to... make love or whatever to me."
"Why not?" he asked me. "You needed a friend, you needed to forget for a while."
"You really think Lana's gonna be all happy that you and I were together like that? Three times in one night?" I asked him incredulously. "You really think she'll believe you if you tell her that's all it was? Some kind of one night stand with your *wife*? *Especially* if I am pregnant? You don't think she'll think we were going at it like bunnies all the time?"
He shrugged.
"It's not like it's going to happen again, is it? But she'll never believe that."
His next question surprised me. "Why wouldn't it happen again?"
"Why would it?" I asked him with a raised brow.
He shrugged. "You seemed to enjoy yourself."
I glared at him. "I told you before – you have some kind of itch that needs scratching, go find an iceberg to melt. You decide you want to make some kind of long term, *real* commitment to me – and I want to do the same - *then* maybe it'll happen again."
~~~~~
Clark
~~~~~
I didn't know what else to do.
So I crossed the room in a couple of giant steps.
And then I kissed her.
Hard.
But only for a second as her arms wound around my neck and she pulled me closer to her. My arms pulled her as close to me as I could, picking her up by the waist as the kiss softened just enough not to bruise her lips. Her legs wrapped around me and a second later, she was under me on our bed.
Clothes disappeared more quickly than I would have thought humanly possible, but it was because I wasn't using any of my powers.
The need to be together – to be the 'one flesh' mentioned at weddings – consumed me and Lois both.
It wasn't long before we were lying next to each other and even I was breathing heavily.
"Where did that come from?" she asked me, her head resting against my arm, her feet crossed at the ankle and propped up against the headboard.
"I don't know," I told her honestly, with a grin that I was sure looked like every stereotypical guy's first time grin ever seen on TV – even though it wasn't my first time. I thought about saying something like 'but I hope it happens again' but I decided it probably wasn't the smartest thing to do.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Don’t play Mr. Innocent. You attacked me. That's where it came from." I couldn't read her tone of voice.
I attacked her?
Well, maybe, but she hadn't been saying no.
Had she?
I relived it quickly in my mind. No, she hadn't. She'd been right there with me every step of the way – as every piece of clothing came off, every kiss, every touch – it was both of us, together.
I hadn't used my powers, but it was the most incredible experience of my life. Even more than the night before had been.
"We forgot," I said quietly.
"Forgot what?" she asked, a trace of bitterness creeping into her voice. She rolled away from me and grabbed the closest article of clothing – my shirt – to pull on. "That you're not supposed to cheat on Lana with your wife?" She tugged it over her head and pulled it down as she stood up. It fell to her mid-thighs, leaving most of her legs exposed.
I never would have thought that a woman – any woman? Or just Lois? – wearing only my shirt could look so sexy.
I sighed and sat up, finding my boxers as I did. "That's not what I was talking about," I told her.
"Then what?" she asked glaring at me.
"We didn't use any protection of any kind." I ran a hand through my hair. "Again. At least... I didn't. I have no idea what you could have used, but somehow I don't think that was on your agenda for this evening."
"It wasn't," she said acidly. "I'm going to go take a shower." She headed to the bathroom.
"Lois..."
She didn't stop, but shut the door behind her and I heard the lock click.
I collapsed back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling – not bothering to look through it to see the stars.
Last night could be written off to the relief that Sam was okay; the stress of having Lois' dad in the hospital after a heart attack, that kind of thing. But after all day to think about it or whatever... I didn't think the same could apply to what had just happened.
<But why should it matter?> one part of me asked. <She's your *wife*. You're *supposed* to make love to her – even if it is fast and furious sometimes. What do you think Mom and Dad have been hounding you about for two years now?>
<That's not the point,> my inner teenager – the part of me that had been in love with Lana for as long as I could remember – snapped back. <Do you really think she'll be able to accept this?>
I stifled a scream.
Why was this so hard? Why was it *my* life that ended up like this?
I *wanted* to be married to the woman I loved. To make love to her regularly – something I had discovered over the last twenty-four hours could be pretty amazing. To be free from evil dictators. To know my son was *my* son.
To have a *normal* life.
Or as normal as alien living as a human being could have.
I stifled another scream and was out the door to the veranda in a flash, taking off for parts unknown.
*****
TBC
