Mother's Day: 9/?
by Nan Smith

Previously:

"Dad, why do they think CJ is a clone?" Marta asked. "That's dumb!"

"We'll go into it later," Clark said. "The point is, the people after him think he is, and that's what puts him in danger. The man with Mr. Henderson is a friend of ours that your mother and I met ten years ago when we were on an undercover assignment. His name is Rene St. Cloud and he's a cop from France."

"Okay," CJ said.

'He doesn't know about Superman,' his father added on their mental channel. It was interesting, CJ thought, how the new way of communicating had turned out to be so useful so quickly. It was a shame Mom couldn't do it -- but maybe she could if she practiced. Later, of course, when she didn't have quite so many things to worry about. After all, Wyatt had done it, once he figured out how to get on their wavelength.

'Okay,' he thought back. 'We'll be careful.'

'Oh,' his dad added. 'I almost forgot. I picked these up in Smallville just until we can get you a set of glasses with cool frames. They used to be mine.' He held out a pair of kid-sized glasses.

CJ took the glasses. The frames were heavy and probably would make him look like a dork, but at least if he was wearing them he didn't look like Superman, and that was the important thing. He put them on and resolutely ignored Marta's giggle.

Linda cocked her head sideways, obviously examining the effect. "Oh well," she said. "In a couple of days you can pick out some better ones."

Yep, they made him look like a dork, all right. "Never mind," he said. "Let's go talk to Mr. St. Cloud."

**********

And now, Part 8:

Lois awoke. Her back was aching, which wasn't unusual, but there was a pressure across her abdomen that was too familiar. The ache across her back intensified and radiated around the sides. Lois bit her lip. Maybe, she thought hopefully, it was false labor again.

Clark stirred and his eyes opened suddenly. "Lois, what's wrong?"

She discovered that she was clenching her teeth. The pain gradually subsided, but Clark was looking at her with instant comprehension. He reached for his glasses on the nightstand. "It's labor, isn't it?"

"I'm not sure. It could just be --"

"Lo -- is."

"Yeah." She rubbed her bulging middle. "Yeah, I think it is."

Clark got out of bed so fast that she didn't see him move, and was dressed in another instant. "Here's your robe. Let's go."

"I need to get dressed," she protested.

"Why?" Clark asked. "Just so you can undress as soon as we get there? You know what Bernie said."

"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled. "Don't wait. But --"

"Let's go. I'll tell Mom, and then take you downstairs and go get the car. I'm going to fly you to the hospital. Let's not risk anything going wrong at the last second, honey."

Clark was definitely taking charge, Lois thought, and she suspected that he didn't intend to let anything stop him. Inwardly, she wondered at her own reluctance. Was it just her typical objection for the control of any situation to be taken out of her hands, or was it that she was worried about the situation with CJ and wanted to be around to deal with it? But such things weren't going to stop Mother Nature from doing what she intended. The babies were on their way, and the sooner she was under the watchful eye of Bernie Klein, the safer they would be.

**********

CJ woke suddenly, aware of noise in the hall outside his room. It hadn't been a loud noise, as Wyatt, who was snoring softly on the rollaway bed in the corner, hadn't awakened. He usually stayed overnight on Friday so that the two of them could go to Little League practice together in the morning. CJ listened, tuning his enhanced hearing to the rest of the house. His father's voice was speaking quietly.

"Easy, honey. I'm going to get the car and bring it around; then I'll carry you to it. It won't take a minute."

"Clark, I need to wash my hair! I wanted to do it last night, but they stayed too late, and --"

His father's voice answered, sounding determinedly calm. "You can wash your hair after it's all over. Even if it's squeaky-clean when you go in, it'll be sweaty when you're done, anyway, remember."

A low grumble from his mother. His father's voice cut in again. "Just go with me on this, Lois. We don't know how much time we have."

"All right, all right. Do you want to wake up the kids?"

"Let them sleep. Mom can tell them what's going on in the morning."

CJ slipped out of bed, already knowing what must be happening. His mom was having the babies. Quickly, he counted on his fingers. The babies were six weeks too early, but that wasn't as bad as it had been a couple of weeks ago. He remembered Dr. Klein saying last week that he was surprised that they had made it this far.

When he opened the door, he saw his father floating down the stairs, carrying his mother. Clark glanced back over his shoulder at him, and his mom also turned.

"Are you having the babies?" CJ asked, well aware that it was a silly question. What other reason could there be for his dad to be carrying his mom downstairs at -- he glanced at the hall clock -- two-twenty-two in the morning?

"Yeah," Clark said. "You help your grandmother take care of the kids, all right, CJ? And try not to let anything happen about that other thing. Don't go anywhere alone. And if something does happen, call me. You know how."

"I will," CJ said. He gulped as he saw his mother grimace and clutch her abdomen. "Hurry."

His father smiled. "We will. We'll let you know as soon as something happens, son. Don't worry."

CJ nodded, but he was still worried. Dr. Klein had said that if the babies didn't get into the right position, his mom might have to have an operation to have them, and the whole idea scared him. He hurried forward to give his mother a kiss on the cheek. "Be okay, Mom."

"I will, sweetie," she said. She glanced down and her eyebrows went up. "It looks to me like you were kind of a late developer, Clark."

"Huh?" Clark looked down and CJ followed his gaze. CJ's feet were floating a foot from the stairs. As he saw it, he felt himself drop to the carpeted steps. He grasped the bannister for balance. His father grinned faintly. "I'd say we're going to have to start working on that, after this is all over. Try to help your grandmother, CJ. I'll call you as soon as it's over."

"Okay," CJ said. "Hurry."

He followed his mother and father down the stairs and sat on the couch beside Lois while his father brought the car around. A couple of moments later, Clark was carrying her out the door to the waiting Jeep. CJ followed with the small bag that had been sitting in the hall closet for the past month and then returned to the townhouse and watched through the glass of the entranceway as the Cherokee pulled away from the curb.

Slowly, he went back up the stairs and got into his bed, but sleep wouldn't come. He wasn't a bit sleepy, and the thoughts of what might be going on at the hospital kept his mind active. Sure, Dr. Klein was a good doctor, but sometimes things happened anyway. He would feel much better when his dad called with the word that it was all over and the babies were safely here.

The illuminated number of his alarm clock told him it was three-fifteen when he gave up the attempt to sleep and sat up. This wasn't working. It was probably going to be a while longer, and if he stared at the ceiling all night, it was going to seem three times as long. Besides, Grandma Kent had made an apple pie for dessert, and CJ was pretty sure that there was some left in the refrigerator. Maybe if he got a piece, and some milk, he'd be able to get back to sleep.

Silently, he got to his feet and started for the door. As he reached it, Wyatt gave a snort and sat bolt upright. "CJ?"

"Yeah," CJ said.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," CJ said. "I got hungry."

"Oh. You gonna get something from the kitchen?"

"Yeah," CJ said.

Wyatt pushed the covers aside. "Can I come, too?"

"Sure." CJ waited while Wyatt reached out and put on the bathrobe that he had brought along. "Let's be quiet. We don't want to wake up the others."

"Yeah. Will your mom and dad mind?"

"Dad's taking Mom to the hospital," CJ said. "She's going to have the babies."

"Oh," Wyatt said. He wasn't much on babies, of course, but he liked CJ's mother and father. "She's gonna be all right, isn't she?"

"I hope so," CJ said. "Dad said Dr. Klein was going to meet them at the hospital."

"Dr. Klein's pretty cool," Wyatt said. He padded across the rug to the door. "I'm glad you thought about the pie. I'm hungry."

Quietly, the two boys opened the bedroom door and tiptoed down the hall to the stairs, and a few minutes later CJ was opening the refrigerator. "Good; there's half a pie left."

"Can we warm it up?" Wyatt asked.

"I'll do it," CJ said. "The microwave will make the crust tough." He set the pie plate in the middle of the table and trained his heat vision gently on the contents. Wyatt went to get saucers and forks as the scent of warm apple pie began to fill the room.

"Smells good," Wyatt said.

"Yeah," CJ agreed. He fished the pie server out of the dishwasher and turned back to the table to cut two generous pieces of pie and shovel them onto the saucers. "Get out the milk and a couple of glasses, will you?"

"Yeah," Wyatt said. He appropriated glasses from the dishwasher and a moment later the two boys were sitting at the kitchen table, their late night snack in front of them. Wyatt inhaled the scent of apple pie. "I wish my mom could make pie like your grandma," he remarked, cutting off the first forkful. "She always buys it from the supermarket. It's always too sweet, and the crust falls apart when you try to eat it."

"Yeah," CJ agreed. "That's what my mom does, but my dad makes it from scratch. Grandma Martha's taught me a little about it, too." He ducked his head. "Don't tell the guys at school, okay?"

Wyatt shook his head. "Hey," he pointed out, "My dad says some of the best cooks in the world are guys."

"I think they're called chefs," CJ said. "My Grandma Martha cooks the best of anybody I know, except maybe my dad, and she's just as good as him. He says she taught him most of what he knows about cooking food."

Wyatt nodded. "You're lucky," he said. He took a mouthful of pie.

The boys ate in silence for several minutes. At last, CJ shoved his empty saucer back and drained the last of the milk from his glass. "I feel better," he remarked.

"Me, too." Wyatt picked up the carton of milk and restored it to the refrigerator. CJ covered the pie with aluminum foil. "I got this off the bottom shelf. Is there room to put it back?"

Wyatt shook his head. CJ regarded the refrigerator shelves that had previously held the pie and milk and wondered for a minute where the space could have vanished to. At last, he slid the pie plate carefully on top of his grandmother's leftover lasagna. Hopefully the pie pan wouldn't squash the other food too much.

Wyatt shut the door. It gaped open by about a quarter of an inch and he opened it, rearranged the food again and managed to get it closed. "There," he said. "That'll do it."

CJ nodded.

'Help'

"Did you say something?" CJ asked.

Wyatt shook his head.

'Help'

The voice was clearer this time. Wyatt stared at him. "Did you hear that?"

"Did 'you'?"

Wyatt nodded.

'Help! Can anyone hear me?' The word was accompanied by a wash of despair. CJ bit his lip.

'Please ...' The mental voice sounded young -- younger than Wyatt or him, CJ thought, and a boy's voice. 'Is anyone there?'

'Where are you?' CJ asked.

'Hello?' The voice was suddenly alert. 'Is someone there?'

'Yes,' CJ answered cautiously. 'Who are you? *Where* are you?'

'I'm locked in a basement! I think she's going to kill me!'

'*Who* is going to kill you?' CJ demanded.

'*Her*,' the voice said.

'Who is she?' CJ asked.

'*Her*' the voice said. 'She's called Ms. De los Rios. I have to call her Ma'am.'

'Is she your mother?' Wyatt asked.

'No!' A wash of hatred and fear. 'She bosses me around all the time. She says I'm useless. She's going to kill me.'

'Where are you?' Wyatt demanded.

'I don't know,' the voice said, despairingly.

'Why are you useless?' Wyatt asked.

'I'm supposed to have Superman's powers,' the ghostly voice said. 'Some scientist was supposed to give me his powers, but I don't have them. She says I'm worthless.'

'Does she know you can talk to us like this?' Wyatt asked.

'No. I don't want to tell her,' the voice said. 'She'd hit me. She'd say I was lying.'

"What are we gonna do?" Wyatt whispered.

'Can you tell us anything that can help us find you?' CJ asked. 'Before she put you in the basement, did you see anything that could help?'

'I could see the park from my room,' the voice said. 'There was this statue of a guy on a horse.'

'You're on the north side of Centennial Park,' Wyatt said, at once. 'I've seen it lots of times.' He looked at CJ. "Maybe we should call your dad."

CJ shook his head. "He'd have to leave Mom. I don't want Mom to be by herself."

"Then what do we do?" Wyatt whispered. "We can't let her kill him!"

CJ got to his feet. "Let's get dressed," he said. "We'll go see if we can find him. If we can't get him out ourselves, then we'll call my dad." He switched to the strange mind speech that had so suddenly become familiar. 'Are you by yourself right now?'

'Yeah.' The boy's 'voice' had a lost quality to it.

'We're going to try to help you,' CJ said. 'Can you sing?'

'A little.'

'Then sing, or hum. Not loud; don't let anybody nearby hear you, but don't stop.'

'Okay,' the voice said.

'What's your name?' Wyatt asked.

'Alex,' the boy's voice said.

'Okay, Alex,' CJ said. 'Sing.'

**********
tbc


Earth is the insane asylum for the universe.