Previously On Specimen S:
"Steve Jenson?" Lois repeated. "Clark told me about you. You're one of Trask's men." Her voice hardened as she spoke.
Jenson sighed. "Yes, that's true. At least, I used to be. Or...I guess, I still am. I don't want to be, believe me. But, I have no choice."
"There's always a choice," Lois said harshly, crossing her arms.
"Trask...both Cameron and Jason...are...were...cruel men, Miss Lane. If I try to leave now, Jason will kill me. If I had tried to leave back then, so many years ago, Cameron would have killed me. I noticed you looking at my scars. No, no, don't be ashamed," he said soothingly as Lois flushed. "They are hard to ignore, I know. When your friend first escaped from Bureau Thirty-Nine, Cameron took his anger out on me. You see, I was the last person to see S...Clark...before he broke out of Cameron's compound. He blamed me for the boy's escape, as though I should have been able to prevent it. But Clark had hidden some of his powers from me. I was lucky that Trask didn't just flat out kill me. I've borne my scars ever since, a reminder that I will never escape the clutches of Bureau Thirty-Nine and the sins of my past. Then, not long ago, I heard tale that Cameron had died. I thought I was free."
"But his son was still out there," Lois supplied.
Jenson nodded. "Yes. Jason recently contacted me. He said he needed to speak with me. Like a fool, I went to him, never once imagining that he'd resurrected the Bureau. Never once did I, in my wildest dreams, imagine that he'd managed to recapture S."
"What did Trask want from you?"
"One of my jobs under the reign of Cameron was to monitor the alien's...Clark's...health. Of course, he was always healthy, more than any human being I'd ever met, before or since."
"So...what? Jason wanted to make sure that Clark...stayed healthy? I'm not buying it."
Jenson shook his head. "Not exactly. My job was to ensure that Clark didn't die."
Lois' heart seized up. "Was? What do you mean, was? Clark's not...not...please, tell me he's not..."
Jenson shook his head again, ever so slightly. "No. Not yet. But I fear time is running out for him. He's sick, Miss Lane. Terribly, terribly sick. There isn't much time left for him, I'm afraid."
"Can't you do something?" Lois practically shouted, a few frightened tears slipping past her eyelids and down her cheeks.
"I've tried, Miss Lane. But Clark's body doesn't work like yours or mine. I can't just administer some kind of medication to him. His body would burn it off too quickly for it to have any effect. He needs sunlight for his body to heal itself properly. But the sunlight will restore his powers too. And Jason won't risk that. I don't think he even cares one way or another if Clark lives or dies anymore."
"Wait, what do you mean, anymore?"
Jenson sighed. "I haven't been privy to everything, you must understand that. But I've kept my eyes and ears open. Cameron had a plan to use Clark and his abilities to exact revenge on the people who'd once wronged him. But as Clark grew, so did Trask's plans. He wanted to use Clark to crush world governments."
Lois nodded. "I've heard something to this effect before, from Clark."
"Well," Jenson continued. "Let's just say that the rotten apple didn't fall far from the tree. Jason wants to do the same. He's tortured Clark, or, at the very least, has had his men do it for him, I think. His parents too."
"Jonathan and Martha?" Lois asked, before she could stop herself. "Are they...?"
"Still alive and much better off than Clark is, for the time being. I don't know how much longer that might be the case, though. Trask has kept them alive, hoping to hold their pain and possible deaths over Clark. So far, he's refused to bend to Jason's will. I think Trask's patience is just about gone though. If he can't twist Clark into his own willing and obedient puppet, I fear Jason will kill them all."
"Who else have you told this to?" Lois asked, jumping up and starting to pace.
"Just you."
"Me? Why not the police? Why not the FBI? Why not the entire Metropolis division of the SWAT team?"
"Because, Miss Lane, I'm afraid. If Trask discovers that I've gone to the police, he'll kill me."
"He'll kill you anyway if he realizes that you've come to me tonight," Lois argued back.
"You're right, of course," Jenson conceded with a weary sigh. "If he finds out, that is. But if, say, in a few hours, a certain investigative journalist were to stumble upon blueprints for the abandoned underground nuclear fallout bunkers beneath the Metropolis Trade Tower...the ones built by a certain recently fallen billionaire...well, he can hardly blame me for that, can he?"
"Mr. Jenson...stay here and let me call the police. They can protect you."
"No," Jenson said, shaking his head. "I need to get back. I'll do what I can to keep Clark alive. Besides, if Trask notices that I've been gone for so long, he'll be suspicious. He might panic and put a bullet in Clark's head." Jenson checked his watch. "I've got to be back within twenty minutes. Trask gave me permission to leave only long enough to gather news on the investigation of Clark's disappearance. I need to leave now."
Jenson stood from the couch and jammed the hat back onto his aging head. He crossed the room with confident strides and reached for the doorknob.
"Jenson, wait," Lois called after him. He turned towards her. "How long have you known that Clark was in trouble?"
"Not long. A few days now."
"And you're only just coming to me now?"
Jenson sighed regretfully. "It took me some time to figure out who he was. When I spoke with him, he said his name was Clark. He mumbled your name once, in his sleep. I just didn't put the pieces together until tonight, when Trask asked me to check on the state of things above ground. I'm sorry for that. And...well...Trask keeps a close eye on everything. I haven't been allowed to leave the compound before now."
Lois sighed, but nodded. "One more thing. Why? Why are you helping Clark? Not that I'm ungrateful, mind you," she quickly added.
For a moment, Jenson just stood there. He sighed heavily. "Because, Miss Lane, no matter how hard I tried, I failed as a scientist. I was supposed to merely observe and experiment, that was all. But, I could never detach myself fully from the boy. I used to find myself forgetting that he isn't human. He was simply a frightened young boy. And now, he's a hurting, abused, and dying man. As much as you might not believe it, I care about him, and I don't want to see him lose his life."
With that, Jenson opened the door, stepped through the opening, and shut the door behind him. Lois bounded after him, threw open the door, and searched the hall. For an old man, Jenson had moved swiftly. Lois hadn't even gotten the chance to thank the man for his information.
Assuming it was true.
Assuming he wasn't working for Trask in order to ensnare her as well.
"No," Lois said, to no one in particular, as she closed the door to her apartment again. "I've seen liars before. Jenson was telling me the truth. Clark, just hold on for me a little while longer," she whispered to the empty air around her. "I'm coming. And I'm bringing Metropolis' finest with me. Trask will either be in handcuffs or a body bag by the morning."
***
November 25, 1994
Lois grimly strapped on the bullet-proof vest that Inspector Bill Henderson had provided her. It was snug-fitting even on her lean body, but that didn't bother her. The snugness would protect her. What really mattered was that they were moments from storming the nuclear fallout bunker beneath the Metropolis Trade Tower. Moments from confronting Trask. Moments from rescuing Clark.
Please, Clark, she thought to herself. Just hang on a little longer. I'm right outside. I'm coming for you. Please, be alive when I get there.
"Lois?" Henderson asked, breaking her train of thought. "Are you all right? If you're having second thoughts..."
"No," she sharply cut him off. "I'm fine, Bill, really."
Henderson nodded. "You will stay behind me at all times. You will do what I say, when I say it. You will not argue. Got it?"
"Got it," she replied sincerely. "But Bill?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm warning you right now. If Clark isn't alive when we get down there, you're going to have to arrest me."
"For what?"
"Killing Jason Trask."
"Lois," Bill said, raising an eyebrow. "It really isn't wise to make threats like that in front of a cop. You know that, right?"
"That wasn't a threat, Bill. That was a promise."
"You shouldn't even be here with us," the inspector complained. "It's too risky. I'll do whatever I can to keep you from getting hurt, Lois, but I can't make any promises."
"I know. As for why you agreed to this...well, you owed me, Bill. You didn't have anything before I came to you with this lead."
"Let's get something straight. You only have a lead because Steve Jenson risked coming to you," Henderson argued back. "I'll warn you now, Lane. Jenson doesn't get a free pass. He's still involved in this. He'll still be questioned. And he'll still face a trial if I don't like the answers I get."
Lois nodded. "I know," she said, a little uneasily.
"There a problem, Lane?" Henderson scrutinized her features.
"No," Lois quickly covered. "Just...worried about Clark, that's all. What's taking so long?" She gestured to the rest of the officers.
"Last minute checks, that's all. We should be set to move in a couple of minutes."
Inspector Henderson turned and walked to the gathered group of police officers and SWAT Team members. Lois knew the group was the best of the best. If they couldn't get Clark out alive, then no one could. But it did little to ease her apprehension.
Standing on the sidewalk, in that small hour of the night, Lois shivered. It was freezing out. But the shudder that ran through her body wasn't from the fast approaching winter. It all originated from what was about to happen. Either they would find that Jenson had lied, or they would confront Trask and rescue Clark. Her Clark.
And once they did, she was never going to let that man out of her sight again, his extraordinary powers notwithstanding.
Her arms ached to hold his solid frame once more. Her lips hungered for the sweet taste of his own. Her ears were already straining for the slightest hint of his velvety voice, though the bunker still lay five hundred feet below them.
"Ready for this?" she asked Jimmy, who stood fiddling nervously with his camera.
She had called him immediately after weaseling her way into being a part of the rescue attempt. Perry would skin her alive if she hadn't made some attempt to get photos of the raid. And she knew that Jimmy needed a major break, after his last camera had fallen into the harbor when he'd accompanied Jeff on a story. An entire roll of film had been destroyed, including the ones the young photographer had taken of the Vice President visiting the Coates Orphanage. Perry had nearly popped a vein in his anger. But, Lois also knew, pictures of this mission and raid would get Jimmy back in the Chief's good graces once more.
"Yeah," the younger man said, nodding. "She's all loaded up and ready to go."
"She?" Lois asked, arching an eyebrow.
"I call her Diane," Jimmy said, patting the machine in his hands.
"Diane?" Lois echoed, bewildered.
"Yeah, like Diane Arbus."
"Didn't she take pictures of people on the fringes of society? The so-called 'freaks?'" Lois asked. "Is that what you plan on doing?" Her voice was light, teasing. She hoped it masked the true depth of her anxiety.
"Well, yeah, she did. And no, I don't. But she just felt like a Diane to me when I bought her."
Lois just shook her head, mildly amused at her friend's odd sense of humor. It was no wonder why Clark had immediately become so close to the younger man. Clark had that same warped sense of humor that Jimmy had. Sometimes, it made her shake her head in disbelief. But at the moment, it was the most welcome distraction in all the world.
"Ready?" Henderson asked, materializing behind Lois.
Lois stifled a scream as she literally jumped. "Way to give me a heart attack, Bill. They teach you that in the police academy?"
"I thought you were 'Nerves of Steel' Lane," Henderson quipped.
"It's 'Mad Dog' Lane. Get it right," she shot back. Then softer, "We're ready when you are."
Henderson gave her a confident smile. "All right then. Remember what I told you."
Lois and Jimmy nodded. "Will do."
"Good," the man replied.
They tailed the group of heavily armed officers. The SWAT Team led them all, their rear covered by the regular officers Henderson was in charge of. As silent as ghosts, the unit entered into the building, stealthily making their way to the stairs. One of the SWAT members picked the lock on the door that would lead them down to the underground bunker. Two by two, they all filed down the stairs.
Down and down they went. The air grew colder as they descended. Bare concrete surrounded them on every side in a sort of claustrophobic press. Lois grew more and more creeped out as they moved further into the bowels of the building. Every muscle of her body was tense, so much so that her neck started to ache from the strain.
At last, they reached the bottom. Henderson gave a few non-verbal hand commands. His team spread out, rearranging themselves somewhat. Cautiously, one of the men in front opened the door at the bottom of the stairs. Without a word, they all moved in. As each of the officers went through the door, they took up defensive stances, weapons drawn and ready, covering every conceivable angle.
No one came. There wasn't even a whisper of a sound. At that late hour, it was possible that most, if not all, of Trask's men were asleep.
For a tense few minutes, the officers waited. But finally, they gave the all-clear sign. Lois and Jimmy were allowed over the threshold.
They were in a long, somewhat wide corridor. The concrete walls here were painted a pleasant, almost cheerful shade of pale beige. And yet, the whole effect was impersonal, sterile, unwelcoming. Lois shuddered involuntarily, as did Jimmy. Scattered every fifty feet or so, maps of the underground mini-city adorned the walls, breaking up some of the monotony, and adding splashes of deep blue to the place.
There were plenty of doors lining the walls as well. The officers opened each as they came across them. A few would pile into the rooms which lay beyond, checking every nook and cranny. Lois peered into them as best she could. They appeared to be unfurnished apartments. Each one was empty, completely devoid of people and typical homey comforts. Jimmy snapped the occasional photo, but there wasn't much to see and even less to preserve in still images for posterity.
Deeper into the complex they moved, a molasses-slow column of people. Every one of Lois' nerves was balanced on a knife's edge. Every door the SWAT Team opened caused her to hold her breath in anticipation, hoping beyond hope to see Clark there, alive and now safe with their arrival. Every apartment was empty, shattering Lois' fragile hopes and wearing her nerves raw. All patience threatened to leave her completely, but she forced herself not to huff in annoyance. If it took the SWAT Team three days to search the place, she would have to deal with it. Nothing was worth putting their lives, and those of Clark and his parents, at risk.
Another door opened. This time, it was not an apartment which greeted them. It was a store room. Gleaming metal shelves lined the walls, deep and fully stocked with canned and freeze-dried goods. Bottles of water crowded others. Airtight containers of flour, salt, rice, and other dry goods stood in neat rows on yet another series of shelves. Lois tried to calculate how many months of food were stored in this one storage area alone, but remained unsuccessful. They left the room and continued on.
The next room was another storage space. This one, however, contained not food but medical supplies, paper towels, toilet paper, and other items necessary for safety and comfort. Jimmy snapped a few pictures, his mouth slightly agape. Lois' astonishment matched the unspoken shock written on the photographer's face. Henderson pointed to the next door. A series of heavy generators stood behind the metal door. Most of them were silent. Lois guessed they powered other parts of the bunker that Trask wasn't using.
The group pressed on. Lois admitted to herself that the underground bunker would be the perfect place for Trask and his men to hide out. Not many people knew of the mini-city's existence. And it was well stocked with anything a person could possibly need, enough for months, if not years. Yet, she couldn't help but wonder if Jenson hadn't lied to her. Aside from the fact that the lights were on in the bunker, there was no sign of any living thing, human or otherwise.
If he lied to me, he'd better hope that Henderson is with me when I find him. Because I'll wring his skinny little neck if Trask isn't here, she thought bitterly.
The unit moved down to a new section of hall, turning a corner. More apartments awaited them, some now partially furnished, but abandoned. Most had only a chair or a couch in the center of the living room. A select few had a coffee table or bookshelf as well. But still, there were no signs of life. Lois could see the hard set of Henderson's jaw.
He might be more frustrated than I am, she thought as her heart sank.
They kept at it, turning another corner. That's when they heard it; proof that they were not alone in that cold, unfeeling place.
"Wrong answer, S," came a sharp cry from someplace down the hall. "Care to try again?"
If there was a reply, none of Henderson's team could hear it. But Lois' heart began to race. That had been Trask's voice. And, more importantly, he'd been talking to S, the moniker the elder Trask had once given Clark. That was proof enough to her that Clark was still alive.
Henderson made a few swift hand gestures to the armed men surrounding them. The others nodded their understanding. As quietly as they could, they moved down the hall to the T intersection that awaited them. There they hesitated, checking both branches of the corridor.
"Give up. Not...gonna happen."
Clark's voice was weak, laden with pain, and trembling. And yet, there was still a note of defiance to it. Lois' heart swelled with hope. If Clark was still talking, he wasn't yet in danger of dying from his wounds, the way Jenson had feared. At least, that was what she hoped.
Henderson shot a look to Lois. She mouthed back silently, "Trask." The inspector nodded. More deliberate hand motions were made. The officers took their positions without comment. From down the left branch of the hall, they heard Trask speak again.
"You are trying my patience," he said threateningly.
There was a muffled grunt of pain followed by a sharp intake of air. A cough rent the air, a brittle, rasping sound that reminded Lois of her grandfather as he'd laid in his hospital bed before he'd died. Every cell of her body screamed silently. Instinct told her that Jenson was right after all. Clark probably didn't have much time left. His earlier bravado had likely been a front.
"Don't make me kill you!" Trask roared in frustration.
"Rather die than...," Clark gasped and coughed again, "help you."
More grunts of pain followed as Henderson's men crept down the hall. At some unspoken signal, they burst into the room, weapons drawn.
"Freeze, Trask!" the SWAT Team leader, Matthew Knowles, ordered.
Trask slowly turned away from Clark. He calmly stared down the officers who had their weapons trained on him, as well as the rest of the men in the room. A wicked smile crossed his face, as though he knew something that Henderson's team did not.
"Jason Trask, you are under arrest," Henderson told the man in a calm, even tone. "All of you are. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can, and will, be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one..."
That was all in the inspector was able to get out. As quick as a striking snake, Trask and his men pulled their weapons and began firing. Lois watched in horror as two of the SWAT members staggered back as bullets struck them. They were lucky, the bullets finding not flesh but the protective Kevlar vests. They returned fire, and Lois had the horrifying thought that a rogue bullet would strike Clark. She knew that whatever Trask had done to Clark, it had stripped him of his powers, including his invulnerability.
An ordinary bullet could kill him.
Beside her, Jimmy threw himself down onto the floor. He peeked around the corner just enough to see the action. His camera snapped photo after photo. Finishing the roll, he darted back behind the solid concrete wall and reloaded with shaking fingers. Lois took the opportunity to do the same. She lay flat on her belly, hugging the floor, much as she had when Clark had saved her life in the Congo. Only this time, his body was not above hers in a protective blanket, to shield her from any stray bullets. This time, he was in greater danger than she was. The thought was terrifying, but she was a reporter. She had to see what was going on so that she could accurately transcribe the events for all the world to see.
What she saw broke her heart. Though the bullets whizzed through the air, they seemed distant, an abstract threat to her. Though Trask's men fell, it seemed unreal to her. Though splashes of red blood flew, arcing through the air and spilling onto the floor and walls with violent abandon, Lois felt an odd sense of detachment from the carnage. She only had eyes for Clark.
He was there, doubled over in pain, laying on his side, his face towards the open door. His body was pulled into a tight fetal position and his eyes were slammed shut, either from pain or in a feeble attempt to shut out the fight raging around him, Lois couldn't be sure. He was thin, so painfully thin, that Lois' body ached for him. His features were gaunt, the flesh seemingly stretched too thinly across his bones. His breathing was ragged and shallow. Blood dribbled from his nostrils and his split lower lip, the precious fluid dripping haphazardly to the floor in a lazy manner.
It was the single most difficult thing Lois ever had to do in her life, to keep herself from rushing forward into the thick of the fire-fight to Clark's side.
All of this Lois saw in the span of four or five seconds. In the next breath she took, Trask knelt behind Clark, his gun pressed firmly into the reporter's temple. His finger was on the trigger, ready to pull it.
"Stop!" he ordered. "All of you stand down! Or I swear, I'll blow this creature's brains all over this room."
"Stand down," Henderson echoed to his men. Then, to Trask, "You can't win this one, Jason. We've got you outmanned and outgunned. Drop the weapon and move away from Clark."
Trask snorted derisively. "I mean it," he warned.
From behind Lois came a new set of footsteps. But she dared not turn around. Her eyes were glued to Clark, as if her gaze alone could protect him.
"Jason, stop this madness," she heard the cool, calm voice of Jenson say. "The officer is right. This can only end badly for you."
"You!" Trask roared, his eyes wide and wild. "You tipped them off, didn't you?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Traitor!"
Trask's gun left Clark so quickly it was almost like he himself possessed super speed. He squeezed off three expertly placed bullets. Jenson gave a strangled cry and went down. At the same instant, Henderson's gun came up.
One shot was all it took.
Trask's body jerked backwards at the impact. A single bullet hole in the center of his head oozed out blood and brains alike. Suddenly finding themselves leaderless, the rest of the standing guards dropped their weapons and put their hands up in surrender. Henderson motioned for half of his team to make the arrests and to check on the men who were down. The rest he sent back out, to see if there were any others left in the bunker, and to look for Jonathan and Martha Kent.
"Bill?" Lois asked, standing up.
He shook his head, not needing her to finish her question. "Not yet, Lois. Give us a few more minutes."
Henderson himself stooped to check Jenson for signs of life. It was too late. The man was already dead, the bullets having pierced his aging heart. Lois was dismayed as the inspector shook his head. He lifted his radio from his belt as his officers handcuffed the surviving members of Bureau Thirty-Nine.
"This is Henderson. Bunker is secure. Suspect and several hostiles dead. Several others in custody. Send medical personnel." He looked away for a brief moment as the officers returned. It seemed there was little left to the bunker.
Lois followed his gaze. She saw, to her great relief, Clark's parents being escorted toward them by a couple of SWAT officers. She rushed to them, knowing that Henderson would not yet allow her to enter the room where Clark was, as a couple of the officers were still checking on the wounded and dead.
"All friendly units alive," Henderson confirmed into his radio. For the first time in ages, Lois saw a genuine smile cross the man's face.
"Jonathan! Martha!" Lois cried, engulfing them in a gentle, but jubilant hug. "Are you guys all right?"
"We'll live," Jonathan said, nodding. "What happened here? We heard a lot of gunfire. Clark...is he...?"
"He's alive," Lois assured him. "He's alive."
"Lane?" Henderson called, cutting off her admission to the Kents.
Lois turned to look at the inspector. "Yes?"
Henderson smiled again, a slight upward curving of his lips. "We're all set in there. You...and the Kents...can go to Clark now. Just...be careful, okay?"
"Thanks, Bill," Lois said, the words barely out of her mouth before she was on the move again. "Clark!" she called out, partly for her own sake, as if to convince herself that he was really safe now, and partly for his, hoping he would hear her voice and fight to stay with them.
She burst into the room, dashed to Clark's side, and promptly dropped to her knees beside him. He was struggling to get up, despite the efforts of Henderson's men to still his movements. He was beaten, weak, and bloodied, and they did not wish for him to cause further damage to himself by moving. But Clark wasn't having any of it.
"Lois!" he cried out, as she wrapped her arms around his shuddering body. He returned her embrace, his arms encircling her loosely. "Is it really you? Please...tell me this is real."
"Ssh. Ssh. I'm right here," she said, stroking the back of his head in a comforting manner. She kissed his forehead lovingly. "I'm here. I'm really here. You're going to be okay."
"Knew...you'd come," he wheezed out, struggling against a cough that was rising in his throat. "Knew...you'd find me."
"Of course I would," Lois said, the smile on her face evident in her voice as she held him tight. "I love you, Clark. I would have spent the rest of my life looking for you."
"Love you," Clark managed.
Jonathan and Martha reached their son's side. For a moment, they allowed Lois and Clark to continue their embrace uninterrupted. But they could not long keep their desire to hold and comfort their boy at bay. They too sank to the floor and reached out to Clark. Lois felt their presence more than saw it, her eyes too watery with her relief to be able to see much of anything. She pulled back from Clark's arms and allowed his parents to embrace him.
"Oh, Clark," they murmured, holding him as tightly as they dared.
"Mom. Dad. You okay?" he asked, still trying to stifle another cough.
"We're fine," Martha said, despite the fact that they too were bruised and battered. "We're okay."
"What...did he...do to you?"
Martha shook her head. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is that we're fine and that you're alive."
"Gotta get out of here," Clark said. "Need to get away."
This time, he could not squash the cough that had built up in his throat. He was forced to let it come, a dry, harsh, hacking sound. It lasted for a long minute. Lois could see the droplets of blood on his hand when he pulled it away once the cough subsided.
"Clark..." she said, horror in her voice.
"CK?" Jimmy echoed, standing awkwardly off to one side. "That's...uh..."
"I know." He sighed heavily, from weariness or in reluctant acceptance of his poor condition, Lois wasn't sure.
Henderson's men were still assessing the damage. Trask's men had since been removed from the room, marched out back through the bunker and up to the waiting squad cars on the street. One of the men found a small, lead box. It was completely plain, utterly unadorned. Curious, the man began to fumble with the lock. Clark saw the movement through half-closed eyes. Immediately, his eyes snapped open and widened in fear.
"No!" he called out, his voice suddenly strengthened by his terror. "Don't open that!"
The man with the box stopped. He looked questioningly at Clark, then at Henderson. Henderson shook his head. No, don't open it. The man shrugged and handed the box over to the inspector's waiting palm. Henderson's brow was furrowed.
"Kent?" he asked.
"Poison," Clark said. At Henderson's deepening look of concern, Clark elaborated. "To me. Not you."
"I don't follow," Henderson mumbled.
"Hard to explain. Just trust me."
Henderson was about to say something else when the paramedics team arrived. A good dozen or so men and women made up the team, most carrying medical paraphernalia of some kind or another. A few manned gurneys. All of them moved with a sense of urgency. Clark sagged against his father's chest, most of his fading energy gone with his last outburst. The paramedics fanned out, some checking the deceased just to be certain they were truly dead and beyond all help. The rest gently examined Trask's victims.
Jonathan and Martha could not hide their worry as a couple of the medical team members began to check Clark's vital signs. Lois could see the growing apprehension the Kents were experiencing. It matched her own. The last thing she wanted was for Clark's secret to be exposed. It would only put him in further danger, if the world knew. She trusted Henderson, but the rest of the officers were unfamiliar to her.
Clark feebly attempted to shoo the paramedics away. "I'll be fine," he said, his voice almost a sigh. "I just need food, rest, and sunshine."
"Sir, we have to take you in to the hospital," one of the women said. Lois could see the name of Canton printed on her lapel pin.
"No," Clark said, shaking his head a little.
"Sir, please. You're in really bad shape. We need to get you some help."
"Can't go," Clark said, pleading with Lois. His eyes were as big as saucers.
"CK, don't do this. Don't try to act the part of the tough guy," Jimmy implored his friend. "You need help and these people can give it to you."
Lois was torn. She knew that if Clark was taken to the hospital, his secret would be out. Though his powers were currently gone, there was no telling when they might kick back in. And even if they were absent for his entire hospital stay, no one really knew how differently Clark's body worked from regular humans. Except for Jenson, that was. And he was dead.
And yet, as much as she wanted to agree with Clark that going to the hospital was a bad idea, she was too scared for his health. What if his condition only got worse? What could they do for him back at his apartment? Surely a hospital full of doctors and nurses could find some way to ensure that Clark recovered from his nightmarish ordeal.
Lois opened her mouth to speak, unsure of exactly what she was going to say. For a few seconds, she merely gaped, speechless. When the words came, they surprised her.
"Clark, would you go if we were able to hand-select your doctor? Like say, Dr. Klein, for instance?"
Clark understood Lois' hidden meaning. He nodded. "Dr. Klein would be perfect."
"From S.T.A.R. Labs?" Canton asked. Then, looking at the determined faces of Lois and Clark, she shrugged. "Lockwood, put in a call to have Bernard Klein meet us at Metropolis General."
Clark sighed in relief, as did Lois. They had had a fair amount of dealings with Dr. Klein in their investigations. As a result, they had gotten to know the man quite well. They knew him to be trustworthy and more than capable of keeping secrets for them. They both considered him a friend, and knew that he felt the same toward them. If there was one person to trust Clark's unique health to, it was Bernard Klein.
"Lois," Clark said, as he tried to aid the paramedics into getting him onto a stretcher. He failed as his limbs gave way beneath him. "Take the box. Dr. Klein will know what to do with it."
Henderson shook his head. "I can't allow that, Clark," he said, sounding apologetic.
"Please, Bill. I'll explain later."
Henderson hesitantly nodded. "All right. But I will be the one to give it to him." Then he turned to everyone else in the room. "Okay folks, let's get these people out of here and get this crime scene processed."
Canton pulled a warm sheet over Clark's body, strapped him to the gurney, and began to wheel him out of the room. Jonathan and Martha refused the ones that awaited them, choosing instead to walk behind their son. Lois and Jimmy followed, the hall not being big enough to walk four abreast. Everyone was silent as they found the elevators that led to the surface, rode the car up, and exited the Metropolis Trade Tower.
It was still dark when they stepped out into the street. Lois caught the look of disappointment on Clark's face as he looked heavenward. She leaned down to whisper into his ear as the paramedics opened the back of the ambulance.
"Don't worry. The sun will be up in another hour or two. And I'll make sure you have a large window in your room."
Clark's eyes shut and he nodded. "Thanks."
Jonathan and Martha were whisked away into a separate ambulance as Clark was loaded into his own. Lois hoped up in the back as well, unwilling to let him out of her sight for a moment. She grasped Clark's hand. He gave her a gentle squeeze to let her know that all was well.
"Jimmy," Lois instructed the younger man, before the doors of the vehicle were shut. "Let Perry know I'm at the hospital, okay? I'll call him when I get the chance."
"Will do," Jimmy said, saluting her. "Glad you're okay, CK. I've missed you. I'll be by to visit as soon as I can," he added as the medical officers shut the rear doors.
With a wail of the sirens, the ambulances took off into the still sleeping city. Beyond the back windows of the vehicle, the flickering lights drenched everything in alternating shades of night-dark and blood red. The paramedics never ceased their fussing over Clark, starting him on an oxygen line, checking his pupils, monitoring his heart rate. An intravenous line of some kind of clear fluid was placed into his left arm. Lois wedged herself into an out-of-the-way corner, not sure what to do.
It didn't take long for them to reach the hospital. Clark was immediately brought to a room. Lois helped him shed his tattered and torn clothing and to get into the hospital gown, letting him lean on her as much as he needed. Then she helped him into the bed that lay there waiting for him. She leaned over him, unable to resist the urge to kiss him. Her lips met his in a gentle caress, and all felt right in her world once more. Clark eagerly returned the kiss, as if it alone could heal him. After a few minutes, they reluctantly broke apart once more.
Lois remained glued to his side, chasing away any curious nurses or doctors who poked their heads into that room. She paced for a while, but her energy reserve was emptying fast. She'd been running purely on adrenaline, ever since Jenson had come to her apartment. Finally collapsing into the chair next to Clark's bedside, she drummed her fingers impatiently on the pale pink blanket that covered him. To keep herself busy, she related to Clark all the things that had led up to the rescue that night.
Soon enough, Jonathan and Martha were shown into the room as well, newly bandaged and stitched where it was necessary. Jonathan's right hand was in a cast, his fingers broken during one of Trask's attempts to scare Clark into submission. He limped slightly as he walked, but waved away Lois' concerns, saying it was nothing more serious than a sprained ankle, and that had been gotten when he'd slipped getting out of the ambulance.
Time ticked slowly by as they continued to wait. Lois was just drifting off in the chair when a knock sounded at the door. She was instantly awake again.
"Someone order a doctor?"
"Dr. Klein!" she cried out, relieved to see the man. "It's about time," she added, glancing at the clock.
"I got a little stuck in traffic," the doctor said, shrugging. "Now, what's this all about? I got filled in on the gist of things, but I have to say, I was shocked that you'd asked for me. You know I'm more of a lab guy, don't you?"
"We do," Lois said, nodding. "But you're the only one we trust."
Jonathan shut the door as Dr. Klein moved to Clark's side.
"I'm a bit of a...special case," Clark said, locking eyes with the doctor, pleading with him to understand just how delicate the situation was. "Mom? Dad?"
Martha and Jonathan exchanged a weighted look. It was clear to them that their son trusted this man with his deepest secret, but that did nothing to make them more comfortable in divulging the truth about Clark. And yet, bit by halting bit, they told Dr. Klein Clark's story. The man stumbled to the chair Lois had been sitting in, his mouth agape, though he did not say a word. When they were done, he asked a few questions, trying to discern how best to monitor Clark's health.
By then, the sun had risen and the first pale late fall rays spilled into Clark's room. The warm shafts of light were like a caress to the man, and he sighed in contentment. For a long time, he merely looked out of the large windows, almost in awe of the lightening sky, the streaks of clouds, tinted pink in the sunrise, and of the yellow ball of flame that steadily rose over the city.
Basking in that pool of life-giving sun, Clark felt his body growing stronger by the slightest of degrees. His chest no longer ached with the effort to draw in enough breath. His coughing almost ceased, and when he did cough, he no longer found traces of blood on his hand. The pains in his body grew less and less, until he no longer felt any discomfort. Only one thing persisted - his weariness.
After a while, as his parents fielded Dr. Klein's questions, Clark drifted off to sleep, safe and happy in the knowledge that he was alive, his parents were safe, and Trask was no longer a threat to the people he cared about.
To Be Continued...
