From last time:
"Goodbye, everyone," he said with a tight-lipped smile. Tao Scion led him to the capsule. Clark climbed into the passenger compartment.
The old physician injected something into his arm. "You'll sleep the entire way," Tao Scion said kindly. A pair of mechanics sealed the hatch to the passenger compartment. He was already starting to feel dizzy and drowsy. Before the metal plated cover was placed over the hatch, his eyes were already closed. This was it. When he woke, he'd be home. He just had to drift to sleep and dream of Lois until he woke up. He could feel the ship start to rumble, but he barely noticed it.
'I'm coming home,' he thought, just before he drifted to sleep.
********
New Stuff:
"Come on, Dr. Lane, you're going to be late!" Jimmy yelled out as he jogged toward her. The sky was a perfect, cloudless blue, but he really wished for at least a slight breeze to stir the unreasonably hot air. But the elm branches overhead were absolutely still and all the seats in the shade had already been claimed.
"It's just an honorary doctorate, Jimmy, I'm not actually going to be a doctor. Besides, they haven't even given it to me yet." Lois replied as she met up with her young friend. The quad at Metropolis University, the second largest green space in the city, after Centennial Park, was packed with graduates in their light blue robes and mortarboards, milling about, waiting for the ceremonies to begin. For weeks, as he'd come up here to work on his portfolio with Professor Martin, Jimmy noticed the crews of groundskeepers tending to the grass, setting up the stage, and hanging the banners displaying the crests of all of the university's schools.
Jimmy grinned at her. "Where are the Kents and Jon?"
"Finding seats," she replied. She adjusted the hood on her doctoral gown. "Is this thing on straight?"
Jimmy looked at the velvet and satin 'v' of fabric that fell over her shoulders and down her back. "I don't know; how is it supposed to look?" he asked quizzically.
Lois merely shook her head and smiled. "I think I'm supposed to be up there," she said, nodding up toward the stage.
"We'll see you after," Jimmy replied. Scanning the crowd, he finally found Perry and the Kents, waving toward him from a group of seats near an aisle. The grass field had become a sea of plastic folding chairs occupied by proud families with cameras and congratulatory bouquets of flowers and balloons. The graduates sat in the rows of seats closest to the front of the stage. And up on the stage itself were the faculty and deans and the dozen or so recipients of honorary degrees being conferred. Lois was, by far, the youngest in the group. He'd only heard of a few of the politicians and academics and luminaries of public life seated up at the dais. The old, distinguished looking gentleman sitting next to Lois leaned over and started talking to her. Lois apparently said something amusing and the other honoree laughed.
Jimmy made his way over to the seat that the Kents and Perry had saved for him. Lois's parents sat in the row in front of them. They all exchanged pleasantries, saying how proud they were of Lois. Before long, the ceremony began. They sat through the dean's address about the talent and the accomplishments of the graduating class and the Treasury Secretary's seemingly interminable remarks on the virtues of public service and the rewards of civic life. Jon fussed and squirmed in his Grandpa Sam's lap as Jimmy fiddled with the aperture on his camera. Beside him, Perry seemed to have dozed off. Jimmy nudged his boss gently.
"They're starting with the honorary degrees," Jimmy whispered.
The old editor snapped up, sitting up straighter. "'Bout time," he muttered softly. "Secretary Stanton's so full of hot air he actually managed to make it even warmer out here." He fanned himself with his program, as almost everyone else in the audience seemed to do.
Jimmy shifted in his seat, the heat and the perspiration on his skin made the plastic chair feel like it had melted on to him through his clothes. He'd decided against the sports coat, knowing how hot it was going to be, but even in a pale blue button down shirt and khaki slacks, he still felt like he was being roasted under the May sun.
"Our next honoree is one of Metropolis University's favorite daughters…" the dean began. Jimmy lifted his camera and focused on Lois. "Since graduating from the School of Journalism a little more than a decade ago, she's interviewed presidents and princes, uncovered scandals, introduced superheroes to the world, and most recently, raised the call to our consciences with her reporting on the Kinwaran genocide. She has won every major prize in journalism, including the Pulitzer. To many of us, she is the voice of the Daily Planet, and thus, the voice of Metropolis. For her extraordinary achievements as a journalist, writer, and activist, Metropolis University proudly bestows upon Lois Lane the degree of Doctor of Humane Letters." The audience applauded, no group more loudly than the Journalism School students, excepting, of course, Lois's family.
"Way to go, Lois!" Jimmy yelled out between shots. He snapped a flurry of photographs as Lois stood up and accepted her honorary degree. She smiled graciously as she shook the dean's hand before retaking her seat. The ceremonies proceeded and eventually closed with all of the students throwing their caps in the air. Jon cheered and clapped as they did so. It took Lois a few minutes to work her way through the crowd back toward them.
"Hi Mommy!" Jon called out excitedly as she approached.
"Hi sweetie," she said back, smiling brightly. Lois took Jon from his grandfather's arms.
"Mommy, you have a funny hat," Jon announced.
"I do," she agreed. Lifting the puffy velvet cap, she put it on Jon's head. "Now you have a funny hat." Jon grinned.
"Congratulations, princess," Lois's father said.
"We're so proud of you," her mother added. "My daughter, the doctor."
"Just an honorary doctorate, Mother," Lois repeated.
"And the dean called you one of the University's favorite daughters," Ellen Lane gushed. "Is this going to make the society page?"
"Mother…"
"I'm hungry," Jon said.
"Yes, I think it's time for lunch," Sam agreed. "And we've got reservations at Chez Josephine." Jimmy smiled across the group at Lois. She seemed oblivious to her parents' cross talk. She was calm and serene and happy, playing with her son.
********
Leafing through the album, she turned the pages slowly. She lifted her mug of tea to her lips and took a small sip. Her eyes blurred with unshed tears as she looked down at the images of her husband. She touched the image of his face, trying to remember how it felt to touch him. Trying to remember the slightly rough feeling of the stubble on his cheek and the smell of his skin. And the way she could wrap his dark locks around her fingers.
More than four years had passed now. And she didn't know when the waiting would end. The sound of Jon's little feet scampering down the steps cut through her maudlin thoughts. She looked up from the album and the picture of Clark and his parents, taken at Christmas the year before he left.
"Hi Mommy!" he called out cheerfully, carrying Binkie the bear.
"Hi sweetie," she replied, feeling a single tear slip and fall from her eye, spilling down onto her cheek. Jon ran over toward her easy chair.
"Mommy, are you sad?" Jon asked.
Absently, she reached down and scooped Jon up easily. "I am," she admitted.
"Why?" Jon asked as she set him down in her lap.
"I miss your daddy," she replied.
Jon looked up at her, a somber look on his little face. "When is Daddy coming home?"
She kissed his temple. "I don't know, sweetie, but he's going to come back as soon as he can." Lois held her son in her arms, content to let him turn the pages. He asked questions about every picture.
Jon looked up from a picture of her and Clark at the Planet. "I don't want you to be sad anymore," he said.
"Tell you what, if you give me a hug, I think I'll feel a lot better," she replied with a slight smile.
Jon turned around and wrapped his arms around her neck. She closed her eyes and hugged her little boy. "I love you so much, sweetie," she said.
"I love you, too, Mommy." The sound of his voice soothed her soul. Lois held him close, listening to the soft 'thump' of his heartbeat. Jon was her strength. He was everything that mattered to her. The only reason she'd been able to hold together some semblance of a life was because he needed her to. And no matter how long she had to keep going until Clark came back, she'd do it. For Jon, she'd do anything.
********
"Yes, the quotes for the back cover look fine. I'm happy with the order," she said into the phone that she cradled between her shoulder and her ear. "Let's discuss the cover tomorrow, okay? Thanks, Joan," Lois said before hanging up the phone. The minutiae of publishing never ceased to exasperate her. Of course she was happy with the order of quotes from big wig writers, diplomats, and politicians on the back cover. Negotiating it the first time had been tougher than brokering a strategic arms reduction treaty. That wasn't a hornets' nest she needed to stir up again. Returning to the more mundane matters at hand, she began to tackle the stack of dinner plates on the counter, turning on the faucet and letting the water run hot.
She looked up from the sink full of dishes. At first, she wasn’t sure anything was there. The sound was just an echo, and one she always carried with her. But this sound wasn’t just in her head, was it? It was all around her, pervading her consciousness, filling her mind. There was nothing else. The steady thump-thump beat out a rhythm she’d know anywhere. Her breath caught in her throat. The plate fell from her hands, shattering on the cold tile of the kitchen floor. She didn’t notice it. For a moment, her feet felt glued to the ground – every muscle in her body frozen in disbelief. It felt like forever passed in the span of a heartbeat, in the length of time it took her to get past the shock and race for the door. Not knowing exactly how she got there, she found herself standing out on the porch, staring out at the gently waving young wheat stalks, rippling in the soft summer breeze as twilight descended slowly upon the farm.
His name formed itself in her throat, but she couldn’t produce the sound. Instead a tiny sob escaped her lips as tears blurred her vision, making it almost impossible to make out the solitary figure slowly making his way through the wheat field toward the house. She drew in a shaky breath at last and ran to meet him. She never took her eyes off him, afraid that if she looked away, he’d disappear, swallowed up in the stalks or whisked away on the ethereal wind, another ghost sent to haunt her. His heartbeat was louder now, thundering in her ears, drowning out all other sounds – the wind rustling through the leaves of the oak trees, the cicadas chirping in a pastoral orchestra, signaling the onset of another summer night.
He moved faster as he approached her, or he tried to. He was limping badly and was forced to stop, stooped over as he struggled to draw in a deep breath. She could hear his pulse racing. She closed the distance between them in an instant, tearing through the offending wheat, leaving a path of trampled stalks in her wake.
His eyes met hers.
She was in his arms, holding on to him so tightly she thought she’d never be able to let go. She held him so tightly that no force in heaven or earth could have separated them. She held him as tightly as she should have four years ago.
“Clark,” she murmured against his neck as they fell to their knees. He buried his head against her shoulder, whispering her name over and over again like a benediction. She tried to anchor herself— to the earth, to him—as she was buffeted by emotions so intense, so powerful they defied understanding, let alone explanation. Relief, amazement, disbelief all swirled around her in a chaotic storm. In a sudden flood, they welled up inside her. She felt them so strongly that it ached inside; her heart pounded furiously, so enraged at being confined in such a small space, that it might have burst in her chest. The whole world was still too small to contain these feelings. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The only thing that was important was that he was home. She could deal with the feelings and the questions some other time.
Right now, all she needed to do was to keep touching him, keep proving to herself that he was no phantom, no specter sent to build up and dash her dreams, to haunt her nights and leave her cold, confused, miserable, and alone. No, he was warm and solid and comforting and if there was anything she could do about it, never leaving again. She threaded her fingers through his too long hair. The tears coursed down her face. Lois thanked whatever power it was that sent her husband back to her. He was thin—painfully thin—and he was hurt, but he was home.
Clark was home.
She held his face in her hands, hardly noticing the unfamiliar beard that obscured his perfect, beautiful features. “You came back to me,” she whispered before kissing him. His arms around her tightened and he kissed her deeply. The sound of his heart hammering out an erratic rhythm filled her mind. Her whole body trembled. As did his. She kissed him as though she needed to remind herself of him, his taste, his touch, the way he invaded all of her senses. But she didn’t. She knew these things. She remembered. How could she ever forget his touch? She would know him anywhere. No distance, no measure of time could ever make her forget. Without conscious thought, her own heart sped up, coming into sync with his.
He finally pulled away to look at her, tears in his eyes. He exhaled a shaky breath and raised a hand to her cheek. She dropped a kiss in his palm and closed her eyes. She placed her hand on his, holding it against her skin, letting its warmth banish the tiny, insistent voices of fear that had taken up residence in her soul, that had whispered, over and over again, that she would never again know what it was like to touch him. To feel the warmth of his skin against her own.
“I made a promise,” he said, his voice hoarse. He coughed and she could feel his slender frame shake. She had been too overjoyed by his return to see just how weak he was. He leaned his weight against her, obviously exhausted from the effort of coughing. Lois placed an arm around his waist and lifted him gingerly from the ground. She could have carried him the way he always carried her, but she wasn’t sure he’d forgive her the ignominy of being cradled like a child by someone half his size. A brief flash of sheer joy—ecstasy, really—suffused every part of her being at the simple pleasure of being able to worry about mundane things like how Clark would react to being carried. It passed in an instant, though, as she concentrated on getting Clark inside and making sure he was properly cared for. She quickly flew him into the house, mindful of her precious cargo. She tried to keep from shaking as she carried him toward the staircase. He was going to be okay, she told herself. He’d made it home; he was going to be okay.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw their son, regarding them curiously. “Mommy?” He looked up at her with his big brown eyes full of questions. Supporting his weight while keeping his feet within millimeters of the ground, she hoped she could maintain the pretense that she wasn't floating a grown man across the room.
She hesitated. Lois knew she had to get Clark help. She continued carrying him up the stairs and to his room, where she laid him down carefully on the bed, treating him as though he were made of glass and could break at any moment. She knew that he wouldn’t; he was strong, but she was still so afraid for him. In the background, she could hear voices, trying to penetrate the fog that had enshrouded her mind, but she ignored them. Clark reached a hand to her and she knelt beside the bed and took it. With some effort, he turned to look at her. “I love you,” he said, so softly she barely heard him.
She kissed his hand. “I love you,” she said. “Oh god, Clark, I love you so much. Hold on, honey, I’ll be right back.” She stood up swiftly and with a long look back, headed toward the window.
“Lois, honey, what’s wrong?” Martha’s voice coming from the doorway stopped Lois in her tracks. “Oh my god!” Martha cried.
“Clark!” That was Jonathan’s voice. Clark’s parents raced into the room.
Lois looked at them anxiously. She swallowed several times, trying to form enough moisture in her mouth to simply speak. “I have to get help,” she announced to her stunned in-laws. Martha merely placed a hand over her mouth and nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. She and Jonathan rushed to Clark’s side, probably trying to convince themselves that they weren’t dreaming, just as she had done. Without another word, Lois darted out the window.
Minutes later, she was flying back through the same window, this time with a passenger. She landed and placed Bernie on his feet.
“Now will you tell me why…oh my…it’s Clark!” Bernie looked positively flabbergasted. He turned to look first at Lois and then at the Kents. The three of them stood mutely in the dimly lit room, unable to do anything except stare at Clark. “It’s Clark!” Bernie repeated when no explanation was forthcoming.
“Please, help him,” Lois managed hoarsely.
Bernie nodded and went to Clark’s side. “Clark, can you hear me?” he began gently as he held Clark’s wrist, taking his pulse.
“Bernie? What are you doing in my room?” Clark asked drowsily, so softly that Lois needed her superhearing to understand him.
Lois waited with bated breath as Bernie completed his examination, all the while wishing she could go to Clark, to hold his hand and reassure herself that he was really there. She glanced at her in-laws, watching the process with the same trepidation written on their faces as she knew must have been written on hers. They held hands in a silent gesture of comfort and support. Minutes that felt like hours passed before Bernie finally turned to speak to them.
“He’ll be fine.”
“Oh thank god,” Martha exclaimed as she sobbed.
Lois let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. “Thank you, Bernie.”
“I’m just glad he’s home,” Bernie replied. “He’s exhausted, though. He’ll need a lot of sleep, so just let him rest. And his body is very weak. He’s been without his powers for years and he isn’t the best shape for an ordinary human being at this point, either. He needs a few days’ bed rest, and not too much sunlight.”
“I don’t understand, why shouldn’t he have sunlight, he needs it, doesn’t he?” Lois asked, a note of agitation creeping into her voice.
Bernie frowned for a moment. “A famine victim,” he began, unhelpfully. In response to what she was sure was her puzzled expression, he continued. “You can’t take a famine victim to an all you can eat buffet, it’ll be worse than the starvation. His body is too weak right now for the sunlight. He can’t deal with the overload. He needs to get up a little bit of strength the old fashioned way first.”
Lois nodded. She wasn’t sure if Bernie’s analogy made all that much sense, but she wasn’t about to do anything that could hurt her husband further. She would have done anything Bernie told her to do if it meant that Clark would get better. “Thank you,” she said again.
“If his situation changes, or he needs anything, just call,” Bernie replied. “Now, I’d offer to see myself out, but I can’t exactly get home from here.” He managed a small but genuine smile.
Lois smiled, unsure how to express her gratitude to her friend. She picked Bernie up and flew him home, counting the seconds before she could return to Clark’s side. She was forced to fly more slowly than she wanted on the way to Metropolis to keep from injuring Bernie, but as soon as he’d been safely delivered to his home, she turned back toward Kansas and broke every speed record in history getting back to Clark.
She slowed down as she approached the farm, feeling her heart soar as happiness welled up inside her. It was as though an immense burden had been lifted from her. She flew through his bedroom window and her heart flip flopped again at the sight of him. He was home. She could barely believe he was finally home.
Martha and Jonathan looked up at her as she entered; broad, tremulous smiles on both of their faces. She could see the tears in their eyes. Martha held one of Clark’s hands in both of hers. Lois walked gingerly toward the bed, afraid of waking him.
“I love you guys,” Clark murmured. He coughed, his body shaking from the effort. Lois was beside him in an instant. Martha quickly got up and brought him a glass of water, holding it in a trembling hand. Lois held him up as he managed a few small sips. Clark placed his hand on Martha’s as she held the glass for him. Mother and son made eye contact and Martha began to weep again.
“My boy,” Jonathan said, his voice thick with emotion. They sat together silently for a long while, afraid that saying or doing the wrong thing would break the spell and Clark would be taken away from them. Eventually, Martha and Jonathan slipped out of the room, after extracting a promise from Lois to call if they needed anything. Lois was barely able to hear them, but she nodded in agreement, unable to take her focus off Clark for even the briefest of moments.
She held his large hand in both of hers. For hours, she just sat and watched him sleep, listening to the sound of his breathing and his heartbeat – now slow and steady. The room grew dark as the sun set and night descended. A soft breeze drifted through the open window, carrying with it the smell of jasmine and honeysuckle. Every once in a while, Martha or Jonathan would enter – to check on him or just to convince themselves that he was really there.
It was completely dark outside when she heard Jon’s voice coming from the doorway. “Mommy?” he asked softly. She turned to look at him standing in the doorway as though he was afraid to enter the room.
“Come here, sweetie,” she said, a pang of guilt slicing through her as she realized that Jonathan and Martha had been watching him so that she could maintain her vigil by Clark’s side. She picked Jon up effortlessly as he tried to climb into her lap. She sat him down and wrapped her arms around him, dropping a kiss on top of the little boy’s head.
“This is your daddy.” She whispered the words she’d been waiting years to say.
“Is he tired?” Jon asked as he whispered into his mother’s ear.
Lois felt fresh tears prick at her eyes. “Yes, he’s very tired,” she said. “He came such a long way to be with us. But he’s home now.” Jon sat quietly in her lap for a long while and finally fell asleep in his mother’s arms. She wondered if her son could really understand what was happening. The only thing that mattered, though, was that Clark was home - her son would know his father and Clark would be able to watch his little boy grow up.
She wanted to wake Clark, to introduce him to his son, but she knew she shouldn’t. He was still incredibly weak and tired. The trip had doubtlessly left him exhausted and drained, but it was also clear that he was recovering from some pretty horrific injuries. She grieved silently for all the pain he must have endured.
She looked up at the sound of footsteps in the hallway, her movement waking her dozing son. Jonathan appeared in the doorway. “All right, kiddo, time for bed,” Jonathan said cheerfully.
“I’m not sleepy, Grandpa,” Jon protested. He, however, held his arms up, allowing his grandfather to pick him up.
“Up we go,” Jonathan said as he hoisted up his grandson. “The sooner we go to bed, the sooner it’ll be morning.”
“Will Daddy wake up in the morning?”
“I hope so. But he came a long way and he’s still pretty tired. He might need lots and lots of sleep.” Jonathan cast a long glance at his son. “Say goodnight to Mommy.” Jon squirmed to turn around so he could hug and kiss his mother.
“Goodnight, kiddo,” she said. “I love you.”
Jon yawned, his eyelids drooping. “Love you, too, Mommy.”
Lois smiled as she watched her father-in-law carry her son off to bed. She took Clark’s hand in hers and continued watching him sleep. Her silent vigil continued through the long hours of the night. She sat perfectly still, studying every detail of his face in peaceful repose, mesmerized by the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
Dawn broke and the farmhouse slowly stirred to life, but she did not move. There were chores to be done, yet she couldn’t bear to drag herself away from his side. Once, during the night, Martha and Jonathan had come into the room. They had crept quietly down the hallway, but she had, of course, heard them. They apologized for disturbing her, but she’d told them it was unnecessary; of course they wanted to see their son, to make sure he was okay. They hadn’t stayed long, claiming that they had to be up early in the morning, but Lois had doubted that they’d get any more sleep than she would.
She sent up another silent ‘thank you’ to the Fates that had returned Clark to them. A knock at the door startled her. The door opened and Martha poked her head in. “How are you?” she whispered, her eyes smiling.
“Good,” Lois replied with a nod. “He isn’t awake yet, but I think he’s doing better.”
“You should get some rest,” her mother-in-law said. “And breakfast is ready.”
“I’m fine,” Lois said. “I just want to stay here with him.”
Martha nodded in understanding. “Call if you need anything.” She closed the door behind her.
Lois didn’t notice the hours pass. It was late afternoon before Clark began to stir. Since the curtains were closed, she only realized it by looking down at her watch. At first, she’d thought she’d imagined it, or that perhaps he was just shifting in his sleep. But then the soft sound of his voice broke the almost mournful silence that had shrouded the room.
“Lois.”
He spoke so softly that no one without super hearing could have heard him. He said her name again, this time a little louder.
“I’m here, Clark, I’m here,” she coaxed him gently, squeezing his hand. He squeezed back. She swallowed hard, a quiver in her throat threatened to become a sob as a flood of emotions she wasn’t even sure she understood threatened to sweep her away.
“I have to get home. I have to get to Lois,” he mumbled.
“You’re home, honey. I’m here. I’m right here.” She brushed away an errant tear.
“Lois, I need…”
“What is it? What do you need?” she asked.
“‘sa dream. Not real.” He shook his head, but didn’t open his eyes.
“It’s not a dream, come on, Clark, open your eyes.”
“Then you’ll go away…not real.” He kept shaking his head.
She reached out to smooth a lock of hair away from his face and bent down to kiss his forehead. “I’m real, I promise. And you’re home. Just open your eyes, Clark.”
He did, hesitantly at first, but his eyes focused on her immediately. He squinted despite the dimness of the room. “Lois?” His voice was full of disbelief, as though he’d fully expected to wake up somewhere else without her.
She smiled at him, tears forming in her eyes again. She had no idea what to say. “I love you,” she managed at last. She kissed his hand, holding it tightly in both of hers. She held it against her heart and shut her eyes, trying to fight the tears.
“I love you, too,” he replied. “Oh, god, Lois, I…” his words dissolved in a shuddering sigh.
She reached out to touch his face and closed the distance between them. Her lips met his and an entire world of hurt and pain and loneliness seemed to melt away. The coldness that she’d felt deep down in her chest for so long, the coldness that had eventually made her feel numb inside, was gone. Now that she had him here with her, she wanted to spend every moment of the rest of her life basking in his warmth. She felt tears course down her face. He reached up to caress her cheek, brushing the tears away with his thumb. Clark started to prop himself up on his elbows. He closed his eyes and lines of pain began to form across his brow from the effort.
“What is it? What do you need?” she asked anxiously.
“To hold you,” he replied.
She drew in a ragged breath and smiled. She lay down beside him on the bed and allowed him to gather her into his arms. There was so much they could have said, and so they said nothing. There would be plenty of time for words. Later. She spent an eternity staring into his eyes, allowing herself to drown in their depths, searching for, she wasn’t sure exactly what, but she knew that if she looked long enough, she’d find it. “I missed you. I missed this,” she murmured.
Clark took her hand in his much larger one and raised it to his lips. “God, I love you so much,” he whispered. He reached under the collar of his black Kryptonian uniform and pulled out a long chain. Undoing the clasp, he let the chain slip into his hand. He pulled the gold band off the chain and held it between his fingers. She looked down at her wedding ring, its smooth surface now marred with the tiniest scratches. She tried to imagine all the places he carried that ring, all of the places when it was with him, close to his heart when she couldn’t be.
He slipped the ring on her finger. “I have loved you from the beginning.” She looked down at the ring, finally back where it belonged, returned by her husband, her lover, her partner, her friend – the man who had promised to keep it safe.
She removed the chain from around her own neck and let the ring fall into her palm. She took his hand in hers and placed the ring on his finger. It slipped on too easily and she worried it would fall off. “I will love you ‘til the end,” she whispered as she lowered her head to kiss his hand, sealing her promise. She looked into his eyes once more. “There’s someone you need to meet.” Confusion settled on his expression, his eyes pleading with her. She kissed his lips softly before standing up and walking out of the room.
She found Jon in his room, quietly playing with his wooden building blocks. As she entered the room, he looked up at her and smiled. She noticed the same thing that she did every time she looked at her son. He looked so much like his father. But this time, none of the pain that always came with that thought was there. She no longer wondered if she would only see her husband’s smile in Jon’s. “Let’s go see Daddy,” she said to her son, her hand outstretched to him. He said nothing and simply put his tiny hand in hers. Her heart leapt up into her throat.
She pushed open the door to Clark’s room, letting the light from the hallway spill into the dim room. Jon took a step behind her and she squeezed her son’s hand a little tighter. Her heart slammed against her ribs, beating so fast it felt like it would explode. She looked at her husband, who’d managed to move into a seated position on the bed. Quietly encouraging her son to follow, she entered the room.
Clark’s expression went from puzzled to completely shocked. He sat in stunned silence, the little bit of color in his face quickly draining away. He swallowed visibly several times and finally managed to say her name in a hoarse whisper. “Lois?”
Lois drew in a shaky breath. “I want you to meet your son, Jonathan Clark Kent.” She looked down at Jon, who was still hiding and gently guided him in front of her.
With obvious difficulty, Clark stood up. Lois tried to help him, but he held out a hand, silently asking her to let him do this on his own. He took several steps forward, closing the distance between him and his son. She could see the tears in Clark’s eyes. This time, the tears fell, first one, tracing a lonely path down his face, disappearing in his gruff beard. And then another. And another. He bent down and pulled his little boy into his arms, closing his eyes tightly.
“My son,” he whispered.
