From last time:
“What I was going to say,” Jonathan continued. “Is that she’s strong, but she’s going to need you. As bad as you think this is for you, it’s worse for her. Your mother and I tried to have children. She miscarried three times. It tore her apart. And even though she knew it wasn’t rational, she blamed herself. She beat herself up over the fact that her body couldn’t do what it was supposed to do. If god forbid something goes wrong with the pregnancy, you know Lois is going to blame herself. How is she supposed to get through that if she thinks you blame her, too?”
“I know she isn’t to blame,” he said softly. “I know she had no choice…”
Jonathan stood up, picking up his mug as he did. “Then quit sitting at this table, go hold your wife’s hand, and be the husband you promised you would be in your wedding vows.”
********
New Stuff:
“Lois?” Bernie asked hesitantly as he knocked on the doorframe.
“What’s up?” she replied, looking up from repacking her one small bag.
“I’m guessing you were planning on taking another hiatus during the pregnancy to keep people from linking Ultrawoman and Lois Lane…” he started, delicately leaving out the risks that might come from a pregnant Ultrawoman being exposed again to Kryptonite. But he hadn’t needed to say anything. It was all she’d been thinking about for hours.
“Yeah,” she said. “I guess we’ll have to come up with some reason why Ultrawoman is needed elsewhere.” Truthfully, she didn’t think she had it in her. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to think about anything other than all the horrible, terrifying possibilities that were currently parading through her head.
“Well I was thinking, maybe this injury provides us with an opportunity…” Bernie continued explaining his plan. He really was a genius. “What do you think?” he asked hesitantly.
She sighed, relieved to have this burden removed from her shoulders. “I think it’s brilliant,” she replied.
********
“Mommy!” Jon yelled as he ran into her room.
“Careful,” Clark cautioned gently. But he watched as Lois smiled and scooped up her son. She held him close, kissing the crown of his hair and letting her cheek rest against his head. She closed her eyes and he knew that she was letting the nearness of her son soak in, relying on it to give her strength.
“Mommy, are you all better now?” Jon asked.
“Yes, I’m all better,” she said. There was no trace of a limp in her gait and she carried Jon like he wasn’t a physical burden. He could see it in easy way she moved, she might not have had her powers back fully yet, but she had more than just ordinary strength. Clark hoped silently—desperately—that that fact spoke good things for the pregnancy, too. He crossed the room toward them, his wife turning to kiss him quickly, as though by instinct instead of conscious thought.
“Hey,” she whispered.
“Hey,” he replied, placing a hand on her arm. “You okay?”
She nodded silently. “You?”
“Tired,” he admitted.
“Dr. Bernie said we could take you home,” Jon declared happily.
“I know,” Lois replied, her expression brightening. “Let’s go home.”
Clark grabbed the bag his parents had brought for her and followed his wife and son out of the room. Jon fell asleep in his mother’s arms on the taxi ride back to Parkside Hill. Bernie had told them to expect Jon’s energy levels to be a little low for a few days as his body recovered. Clark watched in silence as Lois stroked her son’s hair and kissed his temple.
The cab pulled up in front of their brownstone and she carried their still sleeping son up to his room. Leaving her bag in their room, he followed her to Jon’s room and stood silently in the doorway as she sat next to Jon’s bed and watched him sleep. He could feel her withdrawing from him. A rift was opening between them and so far he’d done nothing to bridge it. Long minutes passed before she finally stood up and walked toward him.
“My powers are back,” she said simply. “But I’m not sure I want people to know that. I’m going to have Perry put out a statement.”
Clark frowned. “What are you going to tell people?”
“People know Ultrawoman was injured, there’s no getting around that. But they don’t know how badly. If they think I need additional treatment. Treatment I can’t get on Earth…”
“That’ll explain Ultrawoman’s absence,” he finished.
“Exactly. And if everyone sees a Lois Lane who’s perfectly fine and an Ultrawoman they know is injured, they’ll be less likely to connect us.”
“That’s a great plan,” he said.
“It was Bernie’s idea,” she replied.
“Need any help figuring out what you want to say?” he asked.
“I think I’ve got it worked out,” she replied.
“Okay,” he said softly, with a slight nod, trying to tamp down a vague sense of disappointment.
********
Broadcast on pretty much every network and news station that evening, Perry White read a short statement from Ultrawoman. Clark watched silently in the crowd of other reporters milling around the newsroom bullpen.
The old editor cleared his throat as he stared out at the gathered press from behind the bank of microphones. “I’m going to quote Ultrawoman’s statement directly,” he explained. “As you all know, I received a gunshot wound yesterday after Superman and I were exposed to Kryptonite. He is recovering very well at the moment, but I have developed a condition that will require continued medical treatment…” The statement was entirely true.
“…as you also know, Kryptonian physiology and that of Earth humans differs…” Again, true, Clark thought to himself.
“…My doctor here at STAR Labs has done a heroic job, but the physicians on New Krypton have a better understanding of Kryptonian physiology than any Earth doctor possibly could…” Nothing she’d said yet was a lie.
“…because my condition could place me or others in danger, I need to be treated by those people who have the best understanding of my physiology…” He shook his head in amazement at her deft sleight of hand; she’d only intimated that her physiology was Kryptonian.
“…for that reason I will be taking a leave of absence to get the medical treatment I need. I will return to duty as soon as I am able. Thank you.”
Without explicitly saying it, she’d clearly implied that her injury the previous day meant that she would need to travel to New Krypton for some unspecified period to receive medical treatment. It was an entirely reasonable outcome from yesterday’s events and he knew exactly why everyone would believe it was what she was saying, even though she’d said no such thing.
“I don’t have any further information, so taking questions is probably a waste of time. I will let you all get to filing your stories,” Perry said gruffly before stepping away from the microphone bank. The camera crews cut their live feeds and reporters, practically in unison, pulled out cell phones and started calling in their notes. Clark allowed himself to fade quietly into the background. He was no longer a reporter, expected to cover a story like this. Instead, he was supposed to start reworking the A Section for tomorrow, since he knew they were going to lead with this story. In reality, though, he’d already had an idea of what was coming and had begun the process of reorganizing and prioritizing the next day’s top pieces. He returned to his office, wanting to get this done as soon as possible.
********
He lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, having given up on the book on his nightstand after having read the same paragraph seven times without a single word sinking in. The house was quiet, but not in the way he was used to. He should have been able to hear his son’s heartbeat or heard his parents as they went through their nightly routine, watching the evening news together. Instead, there was nothing except the occasional passing car on Sullivan Lane below. Physically, he felt fine—not super—but fine. It meant that his powers should return soon, he realized, but despite having spent four years without them, going two days as an ordinary man was an extraordinarily frustrating endeavor. He hated the limitations. He hated feeling like something that was his was missing. He hated the thick wool that seemed to have surrounded each of his senses.
The sound of footsteps on the staircase coming down from the library caused him to sit up. A moment later, his wife appeared in the doorway. “Hi,” she said softly.
“Hey,” he replied.
She entered the room quietly and crossed the floor to the bathroom. A few seconds later, she returned and wordlessly slipped into bed beside him.
He shook his head slightly with a lopsided smile. “That press release was brilliant. I can’t believe how managed to squirm your way out of that without lying. You should have been a lawyer,” he said, hoping to shake off the uneasiness that had settled over them.
“I resent that,” she replied before falling quiet again.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said simply. “I just sent my column to Perry. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” he said. “I think my powers will be back tomorrow.”
She nodded but said nothing. Clark put his arm around her and she let him draw her closer. He kissed her temple. “I love you,” he said.
“I love you,” she replied. She took his hand in hers and traced the length of each of his fingers with her thumb. “You scared the hell out of me yesterday,” she whispered.
“Ditto,” he replied. Lois placed her head on his chest and he enfolded her in his embrace.
“You know why I had to do it,” she said, her breath warm against his skin.
“I know,” he confirmed. “I talked to Bernie about his theory,” he continued. “It makes sense. And if the baby doesn’t develop my powers…”
“Clark, I can’t do this,” she said as she sat up. He could hear the tears in her voice. “I can’t try to think through this logically. I am so terrified…”
“I know,” he whispered earnestly.
“I don’t think you do,” she countered as she placed her hand over her heart. “There’s nothing in here right now except fear. I’m afraid. There’s no room for anything else.” A single tear slipped down her cheek. She reached up to brush it away, but his hand was already there. He caressed her cheek and pulled her back into his arms, feeling his heart break.
She sobbed quietly as he held her, stroking her hair and pressing his lips against her temple. “It’s all right,” he crooned softly.
“No it isn’t,” came her muffled response. Lois lifted her head from his chest. “Clark, don’t tell me it’s okay. We don’t know that yet.”
He swallowed roughly. “I know,” he managed. “But I’m here and I promise you I will be, no matter what.” She’d made and kept that same vow to him. For four and a half years, she’d waited for him. She’d taken care of the world when he couldn’t and she’d raised their son when he hadn’t even known the child existed. He’d bared every dark and terrible secret of his soul to her and she was still there.
It was damn well past time for him to be there for her.
********
As he lay awake that night, beyond tired, but unable to sleep, he couldn’t think about anything besides the woman in his arms. He’d misjudged things pretty badly that day. When he’d left to go to the press conference, she was already busy working on her next column. He’d asked if she was really up for working at the moment and she’d insisted that she needed to do it. She’d been simply falling back into a pattern that she must have perfected over the course of four and a half years—holding it all together and projecting an image of strength so resolute, so unshakable, that she fooled everyone. But it was an exhausting effort and it wasn’t one she could have been expected to keep up indefinitely. So in the safe confines of this room, she’d had ever right to believe that she shouldn’t have had to keep going.
The haunted look in her eyes had terrified him. She was more afraid than he’d ever remembered seeing her. Even the glimpse he’d gotten of her expression as she’d raced out of the Planet carrying their ill son paled in comparison to this. Then, she’d been overwhelmed, just as he had, by the knowledge that she had to save Jon. Whatever fear had come with knowing he was in danger was secondary to the primitive need to keep him safe. Now, there was nothing she could do except wait. There was nothing that either Ultrawoman’s strength or Lois Lane’s stubborn brilliance could do to alleviate the situation. And instead of her strength and borderline insane fearlessness being assets, she was left to wonder if they’d caused her to risk her pregnancy, to threaten the tiny little cluster of cells in her body that were growing and dividing and becoming a baby.
He’d told her it was going to be okay, but the words had rung hollow to them both. He had no way of knowing that. Assuming she didn’t miscarry in the next few days, which Dr. Klein had quietly warned them both was still a real possibility, it would be months before they would know anything. Once he’d moved past his initial shock, he realized his father was right – that he was letting his own fear push him away from her. Though he’d hoped it would help to talk to her about it, it had taken only a moment to realize the simple impossibility of that. She was in no condition to talk to him about what they should have done or could have done. So it didn’t matter in the least that he desperately needed to know what she was thinking or what she felt they should do if things went badly – if the pregnancy became unviable, if the fetus was developing with the sorts of medical problems that would make life extremely painful, or impossible…
He still shuddered at the thought. Clark wanted his wife to assure him that they would do the right thing. That if they had to make such a terrible decision they would know what the right thing was. But for now, she needed him to be the strong one for a change. Heaven help him, he was going to try.
And yet, how could he help but wonder if she’d been more careful, if she hadn’t been so quick to put herself in danger…
He needed to short circuit the thought before it could squeeze out the rest of the chaos and confusion in his head. Better to deal with the jumbled mess of anxiety he was already feeling than to entertain nothing but some half-baked notion that he could hold her responsible for this. Like it would make any difference. Like their pregnancy would somehow miraculously turn out all right if he could lay the blame for this problem at her feet. He tried to do what he knew his therapist would tell him to do. To reverse their roles. If she’d been in the building, fighting death to defuse a bomb, no force in heaven or earth would have kept him from going to her aid.
But did she have some extra responsibility to be careful? To think before throwing herself in danger? One of Jon’s parents was already facing the real possibility of death, should she have added to that the chance their son might have been orphaned?
As soon as he asked himself the question, he knew the answer. She had weighed the risks and she’d known that two of them were far more likely to have been able to stop the bomber than just one, especially if she hadn’t been feeling the effects of the Kryptonite as strongly as he had. She hadn’t viewed it as risking the chance that both of Jon’s parents would be killed. She’d taken the chance to make sure both had survived.
She’d saved his life.
She’d done it before. And in the past, it hadn’t exactly been difficult to muster up the appropriate degree of gratitude in response. So why was it now?
Because although the question was meaningless and entirely academic, he couldn’t help but wonder what she would have done if she’d known she was pregnant. Under the best of circumstances—which these were not—he would have been afraid to ask. The fear she felt now, if she had to endure the question—which could never sound like anything other than an accusation—how would she possibly be able to believe that he would be there for her if he asked her something like that?
So he asked himself.
What would he have done? If she’d been pregnant and the pregnancy was risking her life, and she’d been unable to make the choice for herself, what would he have done? Would he have chosen the pregnancy?
Or would he have chosen his wife?
He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath, hoping the labored rise and fall of his chest didn’t disturb her sleep. The question gnawed away at him. He loved his wife so much. The thought of losing her. Of letting her die when there was something he could do to prevent it…
He would choose Lois.
So how could he be angry with her just because he was afraid she might do the same and choose him?
Clark bit back a sigh and swallowed around the boulder lodged in his throat, praying he’d never actually face that situation. What they were dealing with now was more than challenge enough.
********
The LNN anchor was busy quizzing the latest medical expert willing to pontificate on Ultrawoman’s condition. This one, a somber looking bearded professor from Iowa, suggested that perhaps Ultrawoman’s invulnerability had returned before surgeons could extract the bullet. A bullet left in a superhuman body might be crushed to pieces that could then enter her bloodstream. When pressed as to whether that would be dangerous for a superhero, he merely shrugged. “That’s probably why she wants to see a Kryptonian doctor – someone who would actually have a clue.” Huh, it was actually one of the more sensible theories she’d heard.
Lois lifted the remote and turned off the television. She needed to get ready for work. In the bathroom, she could hear her husband going through his morning routine, albeit in a more pedestrian fashion than usual. As he made his way out of the walk-in closet, knotting his tie, she noticed a number of tiny nicks on his face.
“Trouble shaving?” she asked.
“My skin isn’t exactly invulnerable, but it did a number on the razor,” he explained.
“That’s a good sign,” she said.
“Yeah,” he agreed absentmindedly. He straightened his tie and grabbed his suit coat. “You sure you want to go in today?”
Lois bit back a sigh. She didn’t blame him for wondering if she was ready to go right back to work. “Life doesn’t stop just because we get scared,” she said. “Besides, seeing the contrast between a wounded Ultrawoman and a perfectly fine Lois Lane will make people less likely to connect us.”
He nodded silently, letting her know he supported her, though she doubted he agreed with her. “I guess we’re driving in?”
She honestly didn’t feel up for it and she knew how much her husband hated driving in the city. “I don’t want to fight the traffic. Let’s take a cab,” she said as she turned toward the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a second.” A moment later, she returned dressed and ready to go. She was so thankful to have Martha and Jonathan with them. Jon would be staying home again from nursery school today. By getting him out of the Planet so quickly, she’d managed to shield him from the chaos of the evacuation, but he’d still seemed more tired than usual the previous night and she wanted to keep him under the watchful eyes of his family for another day.
********
Jiang stepped off his plane in an even fouler mood than when he’d left for Metropolis. He had quit the U.S. before Hsiao had even died. Word of the other man’s death on the surgical table reached him while he was over the Pacific. Normally, the death of an associate who’d failed in his task would not have been considered cause for too much concern, but Hsiao had been the best operative in Jiang’s employ. His failure to kill the superheroes meant there was no one left in his operation he trusted to try to press the Metropolis front. Even with Ultrawoman temporarily removed from the picture, Superman was more than enough trouble to contend with. For now, the Triads were in full scale retreat from Metropolis. He didn’t doubt that a rival organization would capitalize on the situation. Or at least try to.
No organized crime syndicate since Lex Luthor’s empire had been able to gain much of a foothold in Metropolis before being systematically dismantled. Luthor’s downfall led to the collapse of his worldwide operations. Or at least the non-legitimate ones. With minor branding changes, his legitimate businesses continued along just fine, returning nice profits to their shareholders and playing along with the capitalist game. The destruction of Intergang’s Metropolis branch had led to the total implosion of that entity. The Triads were not going to risk the same fate. Metropolis may have glittered, but it was far from the only gleaming jewel in the world. Salvaging the Metropolis operations would have undoubtedly earned him a larger share of control in the enterprise. Now, if he wasn’t assassinated by one of his rivals, smelling blood in the water, he could expect to be systematically squeezed out of the inner circle.
There was always early retirement. Stripped of his connections and influence, he’d be sent somewhere idyllic and pleasant, to spend the rest of his days under guard and suspicion that he might try to use what he knew about the organization to benefit its enemies. So long as he kept his mouth shut, though, it would be pleasant enough. It would be a far gentler end than most outsiders would have suspected for a fallen mob boss. But things were changing. In order for the organization to operate successfully on every continent and across every business imaginable, it didn’t just need discipline, it also need harmony. Chaos, in the form of a putsch against the leadership or a drawn out battle for control, would likely result in the empire splintering into pieces. Better to force the losers out to Macau or Dubai, where they live out their lives quietly, under constant watch, than to encourage those who feared they were losing a battle for control to try to preempt their rivals.
He buttoned his suit coat as he crossed the tarmac at Hong Kong’s international airport, wondering if this was the last time he would see this city. With the sunlight having faded, the lights of the city twinkled brightly. If he left this place, it probably wouldn’t be on his own plane. And he wouldn’t be choosing who escorted him.
********
Lois sat in her office, staring blankly at her monitor. The column she wrote last night would run in tomorrow’s edition. The editors were already done with it and it would be another few days before her column was scheduled to run again, so there was really nothing she needed to do in the office. She’d written about the bomb attempt – about the fact that the newsroom had been full of children at the time, indicating just how coldly immoral the bomber must have been. And about the fact that it had been clearly designed to kill Ultrawoman and Superman – the other victims were probably nothing but collateral damage as far as the would-be killer had been concerned. If this was an act of terrorism—deliberately targeting the innocent in order to force Ultrawoman and Superman to change their behavior—she boldly predicted its failure.
Writing it had been nothing short of mental torture. She wasn’t expected to be objective about the issue since her own family was ostensibly in the newsroom and could have been victims of the bombing. But how could she detangle the story from the personal hell she’d endured in following her husband back into the welcoming arms of death, getting shot just at the moment when she’d believed they were safe, finding out just the extent of the risk she’d taken?
Now, she could do nothing but wait in the purgatory of her own making. The months, she knew, were going to pass agonizingly slowly. And while Clark had been supportive, it frightened her to realize that she didn’t know if he was just dutifully doing what he thought would be expected of him. There had been a distance in his eyes, and in his voice, no matter what he said to comfort her. Was he simply struggling in that silent, heroic way of his, trying to be the husband he thought he should be, all while the seeds of resentment were quietly taking root in his soul? Was he wondering how he could love a woman who would risk the life of his unborn child? Had he already decided he couldn’t?
Next door, she could hear him stand up from his desk. He walked over from his adjacent office to hers. “I’m going to go,” he said as he made the little flying gesture they used with his hand.
“You’re back?” she asked hopefully.
“I’m back,” he replied. Relieved, she felt herself smile. The smile he gave in response didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be back soon,” he said before walking away. With her x-ray vision, she followed him to the stairwell where he changed into the suit and flew up to the roof to take off. The night before, he’d promised her he would always be there for her. And she didn’t doubt it. But what if everything wasn’t okay? What if her actions had cost them the baby? Would he ever be able to forgive her? He would stay with her—for Jon’s sake and because the man was biologically incapable of breaking a vow. But would they grow apart? Would they become strangers to each other? Would resentment build inside him, building every day they spent together? She shuddered at the thought.
This morning, she’d hoped the office would be a refuge, a place where the comfort of her routine could help keep her mind from lingering on the things she couldn’t control. But this place was like a prison today. She stood up and crossed the newsroom to Perry’s office. She knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open. “Chief?”
Perry stood up and walked to the door to usher her inside. “Honey, what can I do for you?” he asked, the concern evident in his voice.
“I’m sorry, I think I’m going to head home early,” she said apologetically.
Her editor frowned as he placed a hand on her arm. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine,” she lied. “I just want to spend some time with Jon.”
“Of course,” Perry replied with a nod. “Take all the time you need.”
“I’m sure everything will be better tomorrow,” she said, knowing how unconvincing she sounded.
“Give me a holler if you need anything, you understand?” Perry said with his typical paternal sternness.
“I will,” she said. “Thank you, Perry.”
“Just take care of yourself and your little boy,” Perry replied.
She smiled faintly in response and walked out of the office.
