Chapter Text
The dead silence kept Lois from sleeping. Clark sprawled beside her, limbs as limp as her aching heart. They were skin-close, yet her husband was miles away—no galaxies away—on a planet that no longer existed. Her hand slipped beneath his fingers under the covers. He didn’t retreat, which she considered a win, but he also didn’t acknowledge her presence. The old Clark, before Black Mercy, would have served his wife breakfast in bed and already made ten saves before she woke.
Under the harsh red solar lamps, his face was pale and gaunt. The thick, unruly beard he sported was a harsh reminder of how long he had been comatose. She had glimpsed snippets of their life on Krypton while pregnant. She was too happy to have Smallville back to dwell on what they had lost. But Smallville never returned. He watched his parents die . . . his entire world crumble to nothing. No amount of words of affirmation from her will bring him back. He left his soul on Krypton.
Clark moaned, staring unseeing at the wood-lined ceiling; his once vibrant blue eyes were like broken glass. Wordlessly Lois ran a hand down his statuesque leg. The muscles tightened, but he continued glaring at the swirling stars on the ceiling. The fluorescent lights danced across his sunken cheekbones, nebulas exploding in his glassy eye sockets.
Martha had brought his childhood galaxy lamp from Smallville to make Hamilton feel more like home. It would never feel like home. She missed the lopsided bed in Metropolis that Clark had broken countless times. She longed for the rickety heater that made weird noises at all hours. She even missed the nosy boy next door who was always present at the most inconvenient times. Everything happened so fast, that she didn’t have time to process leaving.
Clark missed waking up in Rao’s warm embrace. It didn’t help that Hamilton was a foreign place. He lasted two days before bullying Assman into installing red solar lamps in the bedroom. Now he never left the suffocating fort built of pillows, the same kind of fort young Martha used to build for them. Their daughter’s love shone through the dark corners of the fort. Lois twisted against a fluffy pillow and nestled into Clark’s side. She waited for him to hug her. He remained immobilized by grief.
A feisty howl shattered the silence. Lois inwardly groaned. The beastie was hungry again. Reflexively her nipples hardened, pricking with unease. She burrowed deeper into Clark, willing the cries to go away. They were an omen of doom. All she needed was Clark. She never asked to be a mother . . . never wanted a baby if it came at such a steep cost. She felt Clark slowly stir beside her, his legs spasming. She braced a hand on his knee.
“It’s just a dream,” Lois kissed his temple. “You can do this.” She implored him to stand. It was all in his head. A building never collapsed on top of him. His spine never shattered. “Just a few steps, honey,” she kissed the inside of his palm. “I’ll be with you the whole time.”
“Can’t,” Clark croaked weakly, dragging his hand away from her. “Hurts too much.”
The irony of it. Lois’ joints were swollen and sore. Yet, Superman was the fractured, helpless one. It hurt to move. She felt so heavy and crampy all over. Waking in a pool of blood on the sheets was a common occurrence. She figured this was her body reacclimating after such a difficult birth. If only the road to recovery was as fast as the pregnancy had been. She felt her body changing irrevocably, completely out of her control. There was nothing to do except hold onto hope. It was her turn to lift Clark from the darkness like he had done for her so many times.
So she didn’t complain. She swallowed the pain. On wobbly legs, she retrieved the loud bundle at the foot of their bed. She didn’t care which one it was. All that mattered was bringing it to Clark to remind him not all was lost. He still had a family to fight for.
They could make more in time and bring back the children they lost. She didn’t want more. For Clark, she would go through it all over again, even if she died. She would do anything to see that earth-shattering smile again. She laid the bawling infant on Clark’s bare chest. The burst of exertion it took to retrieve it left her winded and exhausted.
“Lois,” Clark called out to her. “It’s time.”
The only time the hubby directly spoke to her was when one of the urchins needed her. She didn’t need it. It brought nothing but pain and misery. The only baby she cared about was Clark. The urchin continued to scream and wail. Lois buried her head in the wall of pillows. Was this to be her life from now on?
She had been somebody before. Somebody important. What she did mattered. All she saw was a future of pain waiting for them. She couldn’t lose Clark. He was all that mattered now. The babies were an inconvenience, an omen of doom. She couldn’t look at them without seeing Clark’s death. They had come so close. . . yet again.
The black mercy drained the essence that made Smallville Superman. Even after days awake, he refused to face reality. Black curtains blocked out the nurturing yellow sun he desperately needed to heal. He was a skeletal husk of his former self. Their old friends won’t recognize him if they saw him on the street. Not that he would let anyone near. Clark flinched when anybody but Lois touched him. His parents couldn’t get within a foot of him without him reverting to the man he was on Krypton. Yesterday he screamed at Martha for letting Van run away.
She supposed it was easier to live in the dream world than face reality. Superman had been locked up in Dabney Donovan’s lab for three months. In the grand scheme of things it didn’t seem long, but for Clark . . . he had lived a full life on Krypton. They had a teenage son and an inquisitive daughter that Clark sorely missed. It had been less than a week since he woke. In time he would be back to his normal self. She hoped. In time she would get used to having children.
“I was thinking . . .” Clark mused, voice heavy with tiredness. He rocked the baby back and forth, who continued to wail insistingly. “After breakfast, ra’ap can take to els de kha-vrosh,” he said, slipping into Kryptonese. She smiled, merely happy to hear more than one syllable out of him, even if he was confused.
“That’s a great idea.” Lois leaned forward, completely ignoring the fussy babe in his arms and kissing him on the mouth. “Except the zoo is closed.”
They would be lucky to find an occupied park. The virus had scared most people into quarantine. The few stragglers she glimpsed on the streets of Hamilton were begging for scraps. Deep down, she knew the zoo Clark had in mind was much more exotic and advanced than your usual Earth zoo.
“I don’t understand,” Clark frowned. “It was open last week.” He studied the children’s drawings on the wall.
Lois’ throat tightened. The first day back, Clark in a feverish state had replicated their daughter’s drawings. His parents tried to reason with him, but it only upset him even more and he withdrew deeper into the fantasy. He was in a fragile state. With each day that passed her hate for Luthor grew. This was all his doing. Superman might never return from the scars left by the black mercy.
She couldn’t think like that. She had to stay strong. Lois rolled to a sitting position, joints cracking. “Where are you going?” Clark asked, panicky. He desperately reached for her. “In your condition, you shouldn’t be walking too much.”
She closed her eyes against the onslaught of tears and reminded herself this was only temporary. It’s only been a few days. In time he’d remember his old life. She returned to bed and snuggled into Clark. The baby whimpered and pawed at her full breasts.
“Fat-ass,” Lois smacked the infant’s hand off. A giggle escaped its tiny mouth. She knew without a doubt it was her son. He was born with a smile on his face. She imagined that’s what Clark looked like when he was a baby. Jon had Daddy’s big ears and contagious smile. Less than a week old and already smirking. “You’re going to break so many hearts,” she whispered to him.
Clark fluffed the pillows around her, cocooning her in blissful warmth. He rested a hand on her flabby stomach and traced the spiderweb of stretch marks. He had started doing this every morning. Lois tried not to feel too hurt when she saw the gleeful hope in his eyes. He wasn’t seeing her. He was seeing the pregnant Lois he left on Krypton. It was an easy mistake. Her old body was gone. The stretched stomach was soft and pliable like a squishy toy but just as round as before. Another reason she resented the twins. How could Clark be so blind?
Vision Lois wasn’t nearly this fat. She had only been in her second trimester. He had been with her briefly before Elara ripped him from that nightmare. To this day she couldn’t figure out how a baby inside the womb was able to reach him.
Lois listened to her daughter’s uneven breathing, chest tightening with worry. She panted like someone running for their lives. It had been almost four hours –the longest the beastie had slept since they brought her home. Lois was not complaining. Jon was more pleasant to be around. She immediately felt guilty for having such thoughts. Without Elara, Daddy would still be trapped.
Clark’s breathing leveled out and his body sank into the mound of pillows. Jon cooed and gurgled as he flicked the button on Daddy’s flannel pajamas. He loved the feeling of the plastic and tugged harder, ripping the button off. Clark’s heavy eyelids fluttered, otherwise, he took no notice of his handsy son. Lois smiled, thrilled Clark had finally fallen asleep. Lois hurriedly snatched the button from Jon before he shoved it in his mouth. She handed him toy keys to suck on.
Lois gingerly scooted away from Clark. He might be content to waste away in bed all day, but she wasn’t. That was harsh. The mental block Clark had put up kept him from healing. She didn’t need to be psychically connected to him to know why he held so tightly to that vile dream. The last memory Clark had of this world was Superman obliterating Wonder Woman. It didn’t matter that the one dead was an evil Wonder Woman from another earth controlled by Darkseid. In his mind, he still killed his friend. So he lost himself in the illusion. Bruce and Diana were happy newlyweds on Earth. The El family moved to a rural home to escape Black Zero fanatics. Telling him otherwise shattered his already broken mind.
If only she could get him to step outside, even for just a few minutes. The sun would heal him. Lois groggily shrugged into Clark’s oversized robe. There was one benefit to living in Hamilton. There were no stairs. She carefully closed the bedroom door and wobbled down the dimly lit hall. Soft music leaked from the crack under the door.
‘Good morning, America, how are you?
“So don’t you know me . . . I’m your native son.’
Lois pushed the door open, smiling at the tender sight. Jonathan and Martha stood at the sink, swaying their hips against each other as they washed dishes. An old record player sat on the windowsill, cranking and groaning as it spun.
“I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done,” Jonathan sang in a deep baritone voice.
“Nighttime on the City of New Orleans,” Martha pecked Jonathan on the cheek, tapping her foot along to the old song. Lois grew misty-eyed. It was no wonder Clark believed happily ever after when he had Snow White and Prince Charming as parents. Except the Kents singing was way better.
“Half way home, we’ll be there by morning,” they sang together.
Jonathan tossed the damp dish towel over his shoulder and extended his hand to Martha. They merged as one and twirled around the small kitchen, moving in rhythm with the music. Martha’s eyes glistened with tears. She gave Jonathan a wet appreciative smile. He kissed the worry away and rested his head on her white head.
“Our boy is alive, honey,” Jonathan said, kissing the top of her head. Lois’ throat grew raw. “All is well.”
“It’s different this time, Jonny,” Martha whimpered. “He’s not getting better,” her voice wobbled. She buried her head in the crook of her husband’s neck. “Sometimes,” she gasped. “Would be easier if he were dead.”
“Don’t say that, Marty,” Jonathan braced a hand beneath her chin and forced her to look at him.
Lois’ skin got goosebumps. She felt like she was intruding on a tender, private moment. Watching them interact reminded her of how Clark used to be with her. Would he ever love her like that again?
“How can I not?” she sobbed. “Our baby is suffering and there’s nothing I can do to help him.”
“You are helping,” Jonathan grabbed her by the shoulders. “All he needs is his mother’s love.”
“I’m not the mother he wants,” she wiped at her damp eyes. “He called out for her last night.”
Lois’ eyes cast down. She had prayed Ma and Pa were asleep. Her prayers were rarely answered. The walls were thin. They heard the whole brutal ordeal. He relaxed only after Lois had soothed him with the kryptonese lullaby Lara sang to him. She was thankful for the few snippets she remembered.
“Give him time,” Jonathan said. “It’s only been four days. These wounds take time to heal.”
“This isn’t the kind of wound that heals easily,” Martha said. “You remember how hard it was for us before Clark,” she said.
Jonathan made a noise of agreement and wordlessly embraced his grieving wife. He massaged her back, reassuring her with each stroke of his hand. “It’ll be okay. He’s stronger than us. Just keep doing what you’re doing. He’ll come back to us, you’ll see.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because we raised him right,” Jonathan said confidently. “He’s no quitter.” He dipped his head and kissed Martha passionately. His eyes drifted open, mouth still locked on his wife, and noticed Lois. He released his wife, blushing like a schoolboy caught in a compromising position with his girlfriend. Lois smiled. He smiled back awkwardly. Martha gradually noticed they had an audience.
“Oh, Lois, honey!” she hurriedly wiped at her eyes. She offered Lois a bright smile, the grief from earlier vanishing. “You must be starving!” she ushered Lois into the kitchen. “I was just about to make breakfast,” she declared. “What are you feeling like, pancakes or waffles?”
“Clark likes waffles,” Lois said without thinking. It was a battle to get Clark to eat. Any food he ate didn’t stay down for long. He longed for Kryptonian food that no longer existed. Maybe today would be the lucky day he accepted Earth food.
“That he does,” Martha agreed. “Be a doll and get the butter from the fridge,” she instructed. Lois swallowed hard. She had lived in this house longer than the other Kents and still didn’t know her way around. It took her four tries before she found the fridge. “No dear, that’s cream cheese,” Martha laughed and brought out the right stick. They looked the same to Lois. “Go ahead and melt it.”
“Are you sure?” Lois held up the frozen stick of butter dubiously. She was rarely in the kitchen when Clark cooked.
“Of course,” Martha said. “You can’t make waffles without butter,” she said.
Lois grabbed a plate and placed the stick of butter on top. She was about to place it in the microwave still covered in paper. Jonathan caught her arm, stilling her. “Got another Wayne in the family,” he laughed and handed her a glass measuring cup. Lois’ cheeks burned with embarrassment. Jonathan peeled the paper off the butter and demonstrated cutting the butter with a knife.
“I was getting around to cutting,” Lois said.
“Sure you were,” Jonathan teased.
“Jonny,” Martha warned. “You’re going to scare her away from cooking!” She swatted Jonathan with a rolled towel.
“Me?” He looked bashful. “I was just trying to help.”
“You can help by setting the table,” she said. “Lois and I will handle the cooking.”
Before Lois could protest Martha had roped her into making the batter. Ten minutes later – only one catastrophe with the flour – Lois had a rougly perfect batter. “I did it!” Lois explained.
“Of course you did,” Martha said. “Breakfast is the easiest thing to cook,” she smiled proudly. Martha hooked in the waffle machine and began pouring the batter in. Waffles was the one food Clark didn’t use his heat vision on.
Lois took a seat opposite Jonathan who was reading today’s paper. She caught a glimpse of the title and trembled. ‘The World Without Superman’ by: Ron Troupe.
Icy fingers of guilt plunged through her. It was a kick to the gut seeing her brother-in-law’s name. Outside the immediate family only Bruce, Diana, and Barry knew Clark was alive. She hadn’t spoken to her sister since that ill advised baby shower. Had Lucy already had the baby? Most likely. She had no way to call and see if she were okay. All the phones in the country and beyond were down. The Lane side would be worried about her.
Fat chance. They were probably dancing over Superman’s grave, elated that they were rid of that embarrassing alien relative. Even Lucy hated Superman. It took her ages to warm up to the idea of Lois being married to an alien. Sammy would be upset. He idolized Uncle Clark. Learning his uncle was Superman made him love Clark even more. It was unfair to keep the truth hidden from so many people . . What was she thinking?
She let the entire world believe all hope was lost. They buried Superman’s doppelganger with no concern for the billions of people they were hurting in the process. At the time it felt like there was no other choice. Clark would have said there always was a choice. But Clark wasn’t there. She was a hormonal pregnant woman, who had just lost her husband. She would have done a headstand in her condition if Batman told her it would save Clark. Superman had died anyways.
Hadn’t he? The man who returned wasn’t Superman. He might never dawn the cape again. And even if he did, what was the point? Everybody knew the man beneath now. Everything was so complicated and out of control. She couldn’t show her face at the Daily Planet without being swarmed by computers. Lying to the press when his life was on the line was one thing . . . The Daily Planet was family. She couldn’t look Perry in the eyes and continue this farce.
“All done!” Martha announced exotically. She placed a plate of crunchy waffles before Lois. It looked heavenly. Her tummy rumbled in anticipation. She told it to shut up. She was no longer eating for two. She had to watch her figure. What figure? She looked worse than Fat Amy. She self-consciously rubbed her round belly.
Martha looked sharply at Lois’ hand with an understanding smile. Lois quickly dropped it under the table. “Two babies came out of you, honey,” she hugged Lois. “You’re a rock star,” she told her daughter-in-law. “This is completely normal.”
“Clark thinks I’m still pregnant,” she lamented, her hand flying back to the bump.
“Not my son!” Martha sounded horrified. “I raised him better.”
Lois smiled weakly and through sobs explained the situation. Before she had only given them the broad bullet points. She had no idea what Clark had confessed to his parents about the black mercy. It was a very personal experience. “Oh, dear,” Martha said, once Lois was finished explaining. “My poor baby,” she clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Well, there’s hope then,” Jonathan grinned. “Only a matter of time before Clark realizes you’re not pregnant. Then maybe he’ll come to his senses.”
Unless the baby fat decided to stay. Lois tried daily sit-ups and yoga, but the fat stubbornly remained. Lois ate her waffle in silence, careful not to use too much butter. She ate her last bite and a knock echoed through the house. She faltered, fork halfway to her mouth, and scanned the clock on the wall, surprised it was already past 9 am. She looked at Martha for clarification. She shook her head, just as baffled as Lois. Whoever it was, was courteous enough to know not to wake the sleeping babies.
“Maybe if we just stay quiet, they’d go away,” Martha suggested.
“It could be the mailman,” Jonathan said.
“At this hour? They wouldn’t knock.”
Lois ignored their bickering and headed to the entrance. She gingerly navigated through the maze of boxes they hadn’t unpacked yet. She stopped to straighten her hair in the hallway mirror. She pinched her cheeks and tightened Clark’s robe. Satisfied she no longer looked super fugly she pulled the curtain back. On the threshold was a pot-bellied man with a familiar curly head. He wore a surgical mask, but there was no mistaking the kind blue eyes. He held up a bag of Planet Krypton takeout and waved gaily at her.
Lois forced on a smile and unlocked the door. If Bobby heard the screams he was good at hiding it. “I should have called first, but you know kinda hard to,” he said. Lois nodded. “I’m sorry about Kent,” he croaked, voice muffled behind the mask. “He was good people,” he said. “Got some of your favorites,” he gave her the bag. “It’s no Superman, but I hope it helps.”
Lois was crying now too. She couldn’t keep this lie up forever. Clark had so many people who loved him. “Bobby, you shouldn’t have . . .” she stuttered.
“I wanted to,” he said. “You need all the sustenance you can with two newborns,” he whistled. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about them. Least not till you’re ready.”
“Thank you,” Lois said, unable to stop bawling. It was too much. Under other circumstances, she would have invited him for cake and coffee. The mask wasn’t just for show. It was a reminder that the world was suffering as much as Clark. People, good people were dying. She was powerless to help them . . . just like Clark. The one man who could help was lost.
“Give the babies a kiss for me, and we’ll call it even,” he said cheekily.
“I will,” Lois promised. “You have no idea how much this will mean . . .” she faltered. “To the family,” she amended. She had almost said, Clark.
Jonathan poked his head over her shoulder. “Is that food I smell?”
Bobby’s eyes twinkled with a smile. “You must be Papa Kent,” he extended his hand cordially. Seemed to realize what he was doing and withdrew his hand. It’s best they kept their distance. In Clark’s weakened state, there was no telling what the Red Death would do to his body.
“You did a fine job with your boy,” Bobby said. “I’m going to miss him so much,” Bobby whimpered. “I helped Clark find Whitesnake tickets for their first date,” Bobby gave some context. Lois hadn’t known that tidbit. “I was rooting for you guys from the get-go.”
Jonathan faltered, uncertainly. It was a sticky situation. Clark was down the hall struggling to cope with this harsh reality. She couldn’t allow Bobby to leave so hopeless. “Bobby,” Lois started. “Everything is going to be okay.”
“You take care,” he nodded to Lois and slunk away.
“Was that Bobby Big Mouth?” Jonathan asked. Lois nodded, locking the door once more. “Way Clark talked about him . . . thought he’d be chunkier.”
Lois laughed, a real unobstructed, heart-felt belly laugh. “You should have seen him in his younger days,” she cackled. “He was a twig.”
“Oh, I thought he was pretty fit for a chef.”
Lois dragged the food to the bedroom, each step feeling like iron chains were weighing her down. She heard the screams before she entered. She sighed fortifying herself against what laid beyond. Slowly she pushed the door open. The pillow fort exploded, remnants of torn pillows littering the floor around the bed. Lois stepped on a wad of feathers. Martha braced shaking hands on her son’s shoulders. Her touch that had once eased the nightmares of youth caused him unimaginable discomfort. Clark stared at Martha with raw fear.
“Not again!” Clark screamed. “You’re not going to get away with this!” His arms spasmed and he knocked over the bedside lamp. Elara’s screams joined her father’s screams.
Lois saw the problem right away. Martha had been feeding Clark waffles and accidentally dripped maple syrup on Clark’s torso. The sticky liquid triggered a memory of being entombed in a stasis chamber. Righteous anger pulsed through her veins. President Luthor was going down. He couldn’t get away with this.
Martha recoiled, clutching her face, in utter misery. She looked at Clark as if he were a mugger gunning her down in a dark alley. Lois gritted her teeth. She loved her Mother-in-law and knew she was trying to help, but she made the situation so much worse.
Lois rested a hand on Martha’s shoulder. “It’s okay, I’m here now,” she said, the last bit mostly for Clark’s benefit. Martha gave a crisp nod, wiped the tears out of her eyes, and headed to the crib. Martha rocked her granddaughter, but nothing she did helped. Elara continued to scream, the fear on her tiny face, an echo of her father. Jon shortly joined his sister in a symphony of anguish and mayhem. Lois sighed. One crisis at a time.
Lois eased onto the bed beside Clark. He glared, unblinking, at the dangling light over their bed. He turned ghostly white. “You’re free,” Lois said, hugging his arm.
Clark’s panting ceased. He blinked once and then again. “Lois?” he asked in disbelief. Lois pressed her lips against his smoldering shoulder. He exhaled and sagged into her, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m so glad it’s over.”
Lois smiled through the tears. The brief moments Clark was lucid she treasured more than her own life. Each time lasted longer than before . . . she hoped that was a sign he was healing. She kissed him, telling him with a caress he was safe and home. Clark cupped her face and kissed her back as if it were the first and last time. If it weren’t for his mother standing right there, Lois would have done more.
Clark pulled away, leaving her choking on oxygen. He turned his focus to the bawling babies. Clark without hesitation climbed out of bed and took Elara from Martha. Martha gaped at the man, who minutes before was imobilized. “Tell Grandma you’re sorry you woke her,” Clark cooed, cradling his daughter against his chest. Elara’s cries slowly morphed into squeaky whimpers. He met his mother’s shocked, tearstricken face. “What’s wrong mom?”
“Nothing, son,” Martha swallowed hard. “It’s so good to see you smiling again.”
Clark gave her an awkward side-hug, baby squeezed between Grandma and Daddy. “There’s a lot to smile about. I’m a father!” Clark beamed. “Can you believe it? I can’t,” he looked down lovingly at his daughter and kissed her head of curls. She smiled like the Daddy’s princess she knew she was. Daddy was the only one Elara would smile for. Everybody else she greeted with a resting bitch face.
Martha and Lois locked eyes, knowing this bliss won’t last for long. Martha nodded meaningfully to the red solar lamps and then glanced at Clark. She mimed walking with two fingers. Lois shrugged and shot her Mother-in-law a sharp look. Was he ready for that? Martha rolled her eyes exaggeratedly as if to say, ‘he’s not healing indoors.’
Krypto seemed to catch their meaning and wandered to Clark, leash dangling out of his mouth. He barked. “Go to papa,” Clark told him. “Other papa,” he amended. Krypto cocked his head and pouted. Eira planted herself beside her pup and looked accusingly at Clark. Maybe Lois wasn’t going to have to be so pushy afterwards. “Not, you too, ol’ girl. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“A walk is just what you need,” Martha declared. She marched to Clark’s closet and brought out black shorts and a Darth Vader tee. She laid out yoga pants and flannel shirt for Lois.
“Ma,” Clark whined. “I can’t leave the babies.”
“Relax, they’re in good hands,” she reassured.
“It is a pretty day,” Lois ventured to say.