Last time:
Lois
"Thanks," I told him.
"No problem. That's what I'm here for. Superfast clean up."
I smiled. "That's good, because..." I stopped. *We* were never going to inherit this house so I could delegate all cleaning to him. *He'd* be gone long before then.
"What?"
I forced another smile. "Nothing. Just that's why I married you, you know. Insane dictators and superfast cleaning."
He gave me an odd look, like he didn't believe me but turned NCIS back on.
I stifled a sigh and went back to my blog, wondering what would happen if I really wrote about my life.
Yeah, like anyone would want to read that – The Idiot's Guide to Living in a Quasi-Platonic Marriage When You're In Love With Your Husband and He's Not In Love With You While Protecting Your Son From an Insane Dictator.
Yeah, that'd be a best seller.
I wondered who would play me in the movie.
Maybe that chick from The New Adventures of Batman show in the mid-90s. She was cute.
Nah.
I put it out of my mind and got to work.
*~*105*~*
~~~~~
Clark
~~~~~
We waited for the tech to get everything set up for the ultrasound. Lois was grumbling again about needed to go to the bathroom, but at least she'd managed to keep all the water down.
"Ready?" the tech asked.
Lois nodded, wiggling slightly to get a bit more comfortable.
"Do you want to know if you're having a boy or a girl?"
Lois looked at me. We'd talked about it some more, but hadn't really come to a decision.
"It's up to you," I said.
She looked back at the tech. "I want to know."
I chuckled and she glared at me. It didn't surprise me that she wanted to know this time around. Even though she hadn't come right out and said it until just then.
I was awed when the image appeared on the screen. "There he is," I whispered, it coming out in my voice.
"He?" she asked, amused.
"Or her. Whichever."
Ten minutes later, the tech frowned. "I'm sorry. This little guy or gal is *not* cooperating and I can't tell if you're having a boy or girl."
Lois sighed. "Fine." She gave me an odd look.
I wondered if she'd want me to take a look at some point so that she could know.
That thought made me nervous. I wasn't sure if my vision doohickey was actually some kind of x-ray or what but I didn't know if it would hurt the baby.
We went to the waiting room to wait our turn to see Kristi.
"Is it different this time?" she asked quietly.
I knew immediately what she meant. Was it different this time because I knew this baby was mine?
"Maybe," I said finally. "I mean, seeing Christopher's ultrasound was very cool but..."
"Right."
Should it be different?
I believed that Christopher was my son, but I hadn't known that at the time – at the time, I'd had no idea that it was even a possibility.
"Lois?"
We looked up and headed to the exam room. Lois made her standard complaints about weighing in and after a few minutes, Kristi came in.
"How're you feeling, Lois?" she asked as she washed her hands.
"A bit better. I haven't thrown up in about three days."
"That's great."
We chatted idly about the pregnancy and such for a few minutes – she asked about Christopher and Sam and if the Wellbutrin was still working.
"Well," she finally said, "this baby is measuring a few days bigger than normal, too, but again, that's nothing to be concerned about at this point. I'll probably keep a closer eye on you after about 32 weeks, but otherwise..." She motioned for Lois to lay back and then measured her stomach. "About half a week ahead, just as I'd expect."
"Did she measure bigger last time?" I asked.
Kristi looked at her notes. "Maybe a smidge, but that's it."
So between sixteen and twenty weeks, there was a growth spurt? Maybe?
That was something to keep in mind if I ever had another baby.
"Did she ever measure any bigger than a few days last time?" I asked. "Was that why he was early or something?"
Kristi flipped through the notes from Christopher's pregnancy. "Well, she stayed between three and five days bigger after twenty weeks, but it was kind of back and forth – three one time, five the next, three again, four – and so on. I didn't measure her that last day because she was already in labor and I usually do the exam then measure."
I nodded. Good to know. Another growth spurt between 34 and 36 weeks or so?
Lois glanced at me but I couldn't read her look.
Thirty minutes later, we were headed to the Daily Planet.
"What was with the questions about how big I am?" she asked from the passenger seat of the truck.
I shrugged. "Just trying to figure out half-Kryptonian pregnancies."
"So you know what's normal when Lana's pregnant?" she asked, not looking at me.
I didn't answer. I didn't know the last time I'd brought Lana up in conversation. No, the last time I'd brought her up in conversation was when I'd seen her right after we found out Lois was pregnant again.
Did that mean we hadn't talked about her?
No.
Lois had brought her, the divorce and my subsequent remarriage to Lana up more than once – probably once a month or more.
"You never know," she went on. "It could be that half-Kryptonian pregnancies only affect *me* this way and will affect her differently."
I didn't say anything but simply nodded. That was possible, I guessed. That a half-Kryptonian pregnancy would be different for every woman, just like regular pregnancy was different for every woman.
I got my parking ticket, parked and we headed to the newsroom.
"So?" Serena asked, excited as we got situated at our desks.
"Little one wouldn't cooperate," Lois grumbled. "Just like his dad," she added nearly under her breath.
What was that about?
I wouldn't cooperate? About what?
Because I wasn't in love with her?
"Kent!" The bellow came from Perry's office.
"Which one?" Lois hollered back.
"You!" he bellowed.
She sighed and I held out a hand to her to help her up. She waved it off, managing to pull herself up out of the chair before heading to his office.
~~~~~
Lois
~~~~~
"What's up, Perry?" I asked, sinking into one of the big chairs.
"How'd the ultrasound go, darlin'?"
I shrugged. "Fine. No cooperation so we don't know if we're having a boy or a girl."
"Sorry about that."
"We'll find out in a few months, I guess. She did mention keeping a closer eye on me and having me take it easy after about 32 weeks or so since Christopher was a month early."
He nodded. "You keep me posted." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. "Now, I know you've been worried about getting your hours in and all that, and I wanted to you to know that you're doing fine. I've talked to your journalism professors and they're pleased with your work, as well."
I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought I'd been doing okay, but it was good to hear it. "Thank you, Perry."
"Now, because of the popularity of your columns, I want you to keep writing it after the baby's born. You can build up some internship hours over the summer – fewer a week over a longer period so you'll still have enough when the time comes. From home when you need to."
"Thank you. You've been very generous in working with me on this."
He waved it off. "Nonsense. I know an investigative reporter in the rough when I see one. It's an investment in the future of the Daily Planet."
I smiled at him. "Well, thank you anyway."
We chatted for a few more minutes about the direction the blogs and columns would go and then I headed back out into the newsroom.
I was ready to spend a day in the Planet. It had been a while.
After a fairly productive few hours, we headed home. Clark spent an hour or so with Christopher while I collapsed and took a short nap.
I was awake when he came in to get ready for bed.
"Can I ask you something?" he said suddenly, walking out of the closet in a pair of pajama pants and no shirt.
I shrugged. "Sure."
"Why do you bring up Lana all the time?"
I looked up sharply to see him staring right at me. "What?"
"The last time I brought up Lana was when I saw her and told her you were pregnant. Every other time we've talked about her since... I don't even know when, you're the one who brings her up."
I shrugged. "So what's your point?"
"If I don't bring her up, why do you?"
I sighed. "Why not? Today, you asked questions about my half-Kryptonian pregnancies. What other reason would you have for wanting that information? It's not like we're going to have any more babies," I pointed out. "For us to have more babies, we'd have to make love and that's not going to happen. You don't want to be close enough to me to touch me most of the time – unless I'm puking or you're being all nice about the pregnancy – so how exactly would I manage to get pregnant again in the next three years?"
He looked incredulous. "You don't want me anywhere near you most of the time. I've tried to respect that; to not intrude on your space."
"Fine. You don't want to 'intrude on my space'," I repeated sarcastically – complete with a roll of my eyes. "But that fits in well with what you actually want, which is to not be that close to me any more than absolutely necessary."
He sighed. "You still didn't answer my question. Why do you always bring up Lana?"
"Today, you asked questions about *my* pregnancies, presumably so you'd have a better idea of what half-Kryptonian pregnancies are like and since we're not ever going to do the things that would lead to having any more kids, you must want to know for someone else's pregnancy. *Lana* is the most obvious choice, unless you've moved on to someone else without telling me. Did Pete and Rachel break up?"
"What on *earth* are you talking about?" He shook his head. "I've *never* cheated on you – unless you count those two kisses with Lana cheating, and you probably should, I admit that – but except for that, I've *never* cheated on you."
"You don't have to actually cheat on me to know who you want to move on with your life with," I told him quietly.
He sat in the chair. "True, but it's not true."
"So you're asking for whenever you and Lana decide to have kids? Now that you know that a half-Kryptonian pregnancy won't kill her."
He groaned in frustration. "*Why* do you do that to yourself?"
"What are you talking about?"
~~~~~
Clark
~~~~~
"Are you trying to torture yourself or something?" I didn't understand why she did that. "You're the one who brings up Lana and the divorce *every* time. I don't know when the last time I brought it up was." I sighed. "Is it some kind of defense mechanism or something?"
"What?"
"I don't know. You keep making sure that neither one of us forgets about the temporary nature of this marriage. Is that some way of trying to protect yourself or something?"
"I really don't want to talk about this," she insisted stubbornly. "I'll take your word for it that you never bring up Lana or the divorce because you're the one with the eidetic memory. And I don't think there's any kind of deep seated reason why they get brought up. You may not have mentioned Lana in months, but when was the last time you thought about her? The last time you thought about what life will be like with her after this is over?"
"I don't know," I told her honestly.
"Then give me a ballpark. This week? Last week? Last month?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. It's been a while. I made myself stop thinking about her like that a long time ago."
That was met with a long silence. "What?" she finally asked.
"I realized that as long as I was obsessing, even in silence, about life with Lana or whatever, it was making our life here and now miserable. Or at least part of what was making our lives miserable. And I knew that I had to stop doing that, so I did. Or I tried to. Took me a while, but, for the most part, I've stopped thinking about that. Every once in a while something slips through, but..."
"Oh," she said quietly. "What about dreams? Do you dream about her?"
"Sometimes," I told her honestly. "I don't know how I can control that tough. And less lately." I wasn't sure what that meant.
Suddenly, I wished again that the ship would have big enough for both me and my brother and I sighed.
"But you aren't planning on this marriage lasting past Navance's death or Christopher's fifth birthday."
"No," I said, as gently as I could. "Do you want it to?"
"It doesn’t matter what I want. If you don't want to stay together because you really want to be together, we're not staying together – and not just because you have no place better to go. Period. End of discussion."
"And you?"
"You know what I want *right now*," she told me, staring into the distance. "But by then... I'll be ready for it. I'll know it's coming and will prepare myself and I'll be fine. It'll hurt more if the kids decide they want to live with you because the only thing I could do about that would be to decide not to love my kids and I can't do that."
"No, you can't." But she could stop loving me?
Where did that thought come from?
Did I want her to?
The answer was... yes. I thought. If she didn't stop being *in* love with me, she was going to get hurt – badly – and I didn't want that for her.
Would Christopher – and this new baby, who would be almost three by then – want to live with me? Would I want them to?
The answer to that was a resounding 'yes', but would I want to take them from their mom?
The answer to that was a resounding 'no'.
So where did that leave me?
I sighed.
I had no idea.
*****
TBC
