Table of Contents
From Part 12:“Clark? You came back...”
“Of course I came back.” A goofy smile that he just couldn’t help spread over his face. “You couldn’t keep me away if you tried.”
“Missed you...”
She still sounded as if she was having trouble concentrating. Or perhaps it was just that she wasn’t properly awake yet. That didn’t matter. The important thing was that she was going to get better.
“I missed you too.” Sudden impulse took over, and he leaned across and brushed his lips across her cheek. “I had to go and tell Perry and Henderson what’s going on. And Superman had to help someone. But I’m not going anywhere now.”
“Good...” And her eyes drifted shut again.
Cradling her hand in both of his, Clark sat, happy just to watch her sleep. They had all the time in the world for other things.
*********
Now read on...Lois forced her eyes open and struggled to sit. Her stomach was roiling. She was going to be sick...
“Lois?” He sounded alarmed.
“Basin... anything... going to be s - ”
“Here.” A strong hand held the back of her head, and in the same moment she felt something being shoved underneath her chin. And then she was retching, coughing, painfully vomiting foul-tasting stuff.
Gasping and spitting, she finally pushed against Clark’s hand and raised her head. He was watching her, concern and sympathy in his dark gaze. How could he not be revolted? It was amazing that he was still here, that he’d stayed rather than run to get a nurse.
He took the dish - which she now saw was a cardboard tray which had probably held instruments - away, putting it somewhere with movements too fast for her to follow, before coming back to her. A cool cloth bathed her face. Gentle fingers combed her hair back from her forehead. And then a glass was held to her lips.
“Have some of this. You need to rinse your mouth. Just spit it back into the glass.”
She did as she was told. God, her mouth tasted disgusting. She hated being sick!
“How are you feeling?” he asked moments later, having removed the glass too.
She grimaced. “Horrible. My stomach hurts. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was sick again later.”
“Oh, Lois.” He really sounded worried again. “Just lie down, okay? Maybe you just need some more rest.”
“Yeah.” Rest was good. “I’m just so tired, Clark... My head hurts, and it hurts worse when I open my eyes.”
“Then keep your eyes shut.”
She could do that. She was too tired to do anything else, anyway. But... “Don’t go, will you?”
“Don’t worry. I’m going to be right here.” And his hand curled around hers again.
*********
Taking the makeshift bowl and glass with him, Clark went in search of a nurse. Once he’d explained that Lois had been sick and could be again, he was given a proper basin, paper towels and a glass. Obviously, the fact that she’d been sick wasn’t considered serious enough to deserve actual attention.
Over the next hour, she was sick another three times. Each time, he was there for her, soothing her afterwards, holding her hand and telling her that it didn’t matter. Not that his reassurance helped. She was still upset, miserable that she was feeling so ill and - she insisted - behaving so unattractively.
It was hard to believe that she really was getting better, though, when he was seeing her like this.
Nurses came in and out, taking temperature and other readings, but they had no real news. Dr Sutton, apparently, was busy with other patients. Now that the substance injected into Lois had been identified, clearly she wasn’t a priority any more.
“I thought they said I’d start feeling better soon.” She echoed his thoughts after the fourth episode.
“You will.” He found a soothing tone from somewhere. If he was lucky, she wouldn’t see through it.
“It’s not that I want to complain or anything. I mean, anything’s better than knowing I’m going to die.” Her voice was still weak, though that was hardly surprising after losing the contents of her stomach time after time. “But I still hurt! I ache all over. My head hurts. And I feel as if I’d fall over if I tried to stand up.”
There wasn’t much he could say. Holding her hand felt so inadequate, but it was really the only option available.
Lois’s eyes fluttered closed again and her hand in his went limp. He leaned forward and stroked her hair, willing her to rest and feel better soon.
But a horrible suspicion was beginning to dawn. Of course, he didn’t know anything about medicine, but Lois should have been starting to show signs of recovery by now. Shouldn’t she? He got to his feet and pushed the call button.
It was a few minutes before a nurse arrived, and he’d spent the time pacing. The middle-aged African-American woman, whose name-tag proclaimed her to be Nurse Amelia Morea, looked at Lois and clucked sympathetically. “Was she sick again?”
“Yes, but that’s not why I called you. Can you page Dr Sutton, please?”
Nurse Morea frowned. “He’s busy with patients in the ER. But he did say he’d come back up in a couple of hours to see how Lois is doing.”
“She’s not doing well.” Clark dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m worried about her.”
“Well, she has been very sick, you know. We can’t expect to see an instant recovery, even though we’ve started treatment.”
Her soothing voice did nothing to calm him. “She’s getting *worse*! I want Dr Sutton up here now! Please,” he added quietly; being worried was no excuse for rudeness, as his mom would tell him.
The nurse moved to the bed and checked the indicators on the monitor, then examined the drips before laying her hand against Lois’s forehead. “Hmm. I don’t know if there’s anything to worry about, but I don’t like the fact that she’s been sick so much. I’ll page Dr Sutton.”
“Thank you.” His heart heavy, he resumed his seat beside the bed and reached for Lois’s hand again.
After a moment, she opened her eyes and looked at him, blinking a bit. “What... where am I?”
Was this something else that was wrong with her now? Or was she just disoriented from waking up suddenly? “You’re in the hospital, remember?”
“Oh... yeah, I guess so...” Confusion showed in her expression. Then her face cleared. “Oh, right. Yeah, they identified it, didn’t they?”
“Yeah.” Or at least so he’d thought. Now, he wasn’t so sure...
“You don’t need to stay, you know.” But - or so he thought - her eyes said something different.
“I told you I would.” He smiled at her. She grimaced slightly. “What? You think I have something better to do?”
“Well... yeah. I mean... don’t you have people to save?”
“Not today. Remember, I promised?”
“I know.” She tried to sit up, but ended up slipping back to the bed. He released her hand and raised her gently so he could move the pillows to make her more comfortable. “Thanks. Anyway, I meant that - well, now we know what poisoned me, you don’t need to ignore calls for help any more.”
He had no intention of going anywhere. Whether his suspicions were right or not. “There isn’t anywhere else I need to be.”
Time ticked slowly by. Lois fell into a restless sleep again. And then, finally, the doctor came in.
“Is there a problem?”
Clark stood. “Yes. Lois isn’t getting better.”
“I did say that it would take time...”
“You said the symptoms would stop getting worse. That she’d start to show signs of recovery. She’s getting worse.”
“Worse?” Sutton looked perturbed. “What’s been happening?”
He took a deep breath. “She’s been sick four times. She complains of achiness all over. Her abdomen and head hurt. And the last time she woke up she was disorientated.”
The doctor frowned and ran a hand through his already-rumpled hair. “Has she been having these symptoms for long?”
Had she? He thought for a moment. “I don’t know about being sick, though she wasn’t really interested in eating. But she did tell you about headaches and achiness when we were in the ER earlier.”
“Yes, I remember. But she also talked about tingling in her arms and legs and feeling weak - that corresponds with Guillain-Barré. Those others... the headache, pain, sickness... they don’t fit.”
“Which means...?” Clark prompted.
He shrugged. “I did say that whatever she’d been injected with mimicked the symptoms of Guillain-Barré. It’s entirely possible that it’s not completely compatible with that syndrome.”
Clark took an agitated breath. “Isn’t it equally possible that there could be something else? That the guy could have used two poisons?”
Sutton sighed. “Yes, of course that’s possible. But the only way we have of knowing for sure, apart from getting a positive result on a blood test, is if the hypodermic is found - or the perpetrator tells us. I don’t suppose there’s been any good news on that front?”
Clark shook his head. “None at all.” The panicky feeling was growing. Lois wasn’t getting better after all. There was another poison, and it was making her worse by the minute. All this time they’d wasted, believing she was getting well - and all the time she’d been getting sicker.
“Well, based on what you say we’ll have to work on the assumption that there is another substance.” The doctor examined the monitor and then Lois’s chart. “I’ll need to do another blood test. And I’ll make sure that the vomit is analysed too.” He fell silent, frown-lines creasing his face. Then, clearly musing aloud, he murmured, “Vomiting, disorientation, headaches, abdominal pain, aches and pains... Any other symptoms?”
“She mentioned vision problems earlier.” He shouldn’t have to remind the doctor of this stuff, surely? It was the man’s job!
“She did. I was so relieved to get a positive ID that I disregarded the other symptoms, or at least assumed that they must all be related.” Sutton chewed his lip. “One thing that occurs to me is mercury poisoning. The sickness, loss of appetite, headaches, vision problems and pain all fit.”
Mercury? “How serious would it be? If it was that?”
“It’d have to be organic mercury. And, yes, it would be very serious. The symptoms I’ve mentioned so far aren’t hugely serious, but it can also cause kidney failure and acute respiratory distress. So, yes, it could kill her. If that’s what it is.”
“So... what? You have to run more tests?” Why weren’t they actually
doing something for her? Why this endless wait for test results?
“We must have test results. If we treat for something without knowing that it’s indeed the cause of the problem, we risk doing even further damage. At best, it could mask other symptoms that could help us identify the real cause, and at worst it could cause side-effects which might be extremely harmful.”
“Oh.” It made sense. Of course it did. It was just that there had to be
something that could be done to help Lois! All this just waiting around... it was beginning to feel as if they were just waiting for her to die.
“If you’d like to wait outside, Mr Kent, I’ll call a nurse in to help collect the samples we need.”
“Okay.” He headed to the door, but then hesitated. Was this it? Was Lois going to have to stay in the hospital now?
It was about ten minutes to eight. Time was fast running out, if the twenty-four hours was in any way an accurate estimate. Within a few hours, according to what Sutton had said that morning, there could be irreversible damage.
He wasn’t giving up on finding the cure. But - just in case - had he lost his final chance to talk to Lois? To spend time with her? To tell her what she meant to him, how important and special she’d become to him in such a short time? How much he needed her? How much he
loved her?
His gaze fell on Lois; she seemed to be sleeping still, not having awakened once during the conversation. She wouldn’t want to be confined to bed, if she was in any position to know what was happening. She’d want to be out, doing things, searching for her killer, searching for a cure, until the very last minute.
For Lois’s sake, he had to fight for what she’d want.
“She’s not been too good for a while,” he told Sutton. “Is she going to be able to get up? Is there anything you can give her so she can she leave here?”
Sutton’s expression told him that the doctor thought he was crazy. But he answered the question. “I can write her up for an anti-nausea drug. That should help. And some Tylenol for the pain. As to her leaving here... I really don’t advise that, Mr Kent. She has an IVIG, remember.”
IVIG? His puzzlement must have shown, for the doctor explained. “An intravenous drip containing human immunoglobin. That’s the treatment for the Guillain-Barré, and she’ll need to be on that drip for at least six hours. She can’t leave here.”
Six hours? She had not much more than seven of her final day left anyway. There was no way that Lois was going to agree to spend her last hours hooked up to an IV. And no way that he was going to let it happen.
The drip wouldn’t save her now. Only finding out what else she was poisoned with would do that, and it was clear that medical science was failing in that task.
“Does she have to have all the... immunoglobin, you said... at once?”
Sutton shrugged, his attitude suggesting impatience to end the conversation. “Not necessarily. But I fail to see...”
“Good.” And, turning on his heel, he left the room. He’d get Lois out of there when he came back.
*********
“Mr Kent!”
He halted. That was a voice he hadn’t expected to hear - certainly not here. But he hadn’t misheard. The billionaire was there, all right, in his expensively-tailored suit and the silk tie that would probably keep a Hobb’s Bay family in food for a month.
“Luthor.”
The patronising concern on Luthor’s face irritated Clark intensely. “I’ve only just heard from Dr Leek that the poison was identified. I came straight here and was told that Lois had been admitted. How is she?”
Resentment filled him at the thought of giving Luthor any information whatsoever. But he had helped Lois. And he did seem concerned about her. “Actually, not good. We think there’s more than one poison, and only one’s been identified.”
The other man’s expression changed. Sincere worry replaced the concern. “What are they doing for her?”
“About the same as before.” Clark’s frustration leached out; he couldn’t help it. “More tests. They’re just working in the dark!”
“Ah.” Luthor looked thoughtful; then he said, “I assume that you’re able to contact Superman?”
His senses on alert, Clark looked back at Luthor. Was this related to what Luthor had promised that morning? Had he information that could help them? “Yes, I can. Why do you need him?”
“That’s between him and me. Just tell him to meet me as soon as possible.”
“Where?” He could meet Luthor here and now, of course. But, even if he disappeared and reappeared in the Suit within a few seconds, he’d lay odds that Luthor wouldn’t want to conduct a conversation in a hospital corridor.
“How quickly can you get him?” Luthor said.
Clark shrugged. “He said he’d be on standby for anything he could do to help Lois. So I imagine I could get hold of him pretty fast.”
Luthor inclined his head. “Fine. I’ll be in my limousine - it’s in the executive parking lot.” At Clark’s eyebrow-raise, he added, “I am on the board of directors, after all.”
“You’d better go and wait, then.” Giving Luthor orders was very satisfying, even in the circumstances. Before giving the other man a chance to reply, he turned on his heel and walked off.
*********
...tbc
