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“Martha?” Clark blinked confusedly at his mother. He had just been telling his daughter a story. Where did she go?
“Yes, baby,” Mom clutched Clark’s sweaty hand. He frowned at her. “That’s me.”
What was she doing here? He craned his neck to find Ama and winced. A screwdriver drilled into the back of his neck. She was supposed to be picking Van up from the academy. The headmaster had agreed to give Van a second chance.
Her grip tightened. Her fingers were cold and wiry. It reminded Clark of the cold prison that entombed him. That hadn’t happened, had it? The puncture wounds on his hips were just illusions—remnants from his time in the infirmary. There had been a pretty nurse with braids. She reminded him of his wife. She said such nice things. He stupidly ran into a building with a bomb.
That’s why everything hurts. He failed to save father. At least he still had Ama.
He tensed and stared at the shadow on the wall behind Martha. Was that Ama? Why wouldn’t she comfort him? Why did she let the human take her place? She brought him to Krypton so they could finally be together.
“Where’s Van?”
Martha released a stuttering gasp, gripping tighter to his hand. Clark flinched and ripped his hand away from Martha, cradling it as if she burned him. Martha’s mouth trembled and she turned away so Clark couldn’t see her tears. Clark paled drastically. “Where’s Van?” he repeated. “Why are you crying Ma?” Oh. God. No. Black Zero had taken Van. Was Jor-El, not enough?
Clark’s chest rose and fell with each rapid breath. Fear choked his features. He stared wide-eyed at the cracks in the ceiling. They slithered and spit acid. The toxin dripped onto his naked body. A raggedy man plunged a syringe into his abdomen and drew blood. “Not real,” Clark placed a hand on the pink scars from the scientist carving him open. “Not real,” he repeated. The poison coursing through his veins felt very real.
He stared at the glaring red lights overheard till his racing heart subsided. Red, the color of their sky. His fists knotted in the sheets. There had been a bomb. He was trapped, the lone survivor. Jor-El reached for him, but he was too slow. The ceiling collapsed on top of them. He wasn’t strong enough. Father was buried alive. He couldn’t feel his legs. The family gathered around his sickbed —his beautiful toddler and their rebellious son. Van took after his mother.
A weight pressed down on the bed beside him. His heart skipped. Lois curled into him, reminding him not all was lost. His hand slid over the growing bump. The miracle inside this hell. Soon the twins would have a baby sister or brother. He might never walk again, but the knowledge of the baby growing inside her kept him from losing hope. He couldn’t be prouder or happier.
He bent his head and kissed her womb. “I love you, Lois.”
Tears streamed down her face. “I love you too, Smallville.” She encased his hand in bliss.
Mom looked between the two of them aghast, as teary-eyed as Lois. Clark’s cheeks flared as he realized the compromising position his wife was in. She wore nothing but her undies and was draped across Clark. “Mom,” Clark whined. “A little privacy,” he shielded his pregnant wife from Grandma. Martha smiled feebly and exited the room.
Lois sprawled on top of Clark, lending her precious body heat to him. Clark hugged her from behind, tracing the stretch marks on her womb. His finger slid across a pink scar, slashing down her entire midsection. A battle scar from the twins. He pressed his lips against the scar. A soft whimper escaped her lips. “I’m sorry,” Clark said.
“You didn’t hurt me,” Lois reassured.
“The twins are barely a year old, and you’re already pregnant, again,” he said, looking apologetically down at her full womb. It was concerning that her bump had shrunk in the last few days. He dreaded to think what that meant for the baby. “It can’t be easy.”
“Nothing worthwhile ever is,” Lois said, drawing his hand to her lower regions. Clark obliged and massaged her swollen pelvis. Lois moaned appreciatively and snuggled closer. He couldn’t believe how lucky a man he was to have Lois Lane as his wife. The mother of his children. It was worrisome that Van hadn’t interrupted his parents yet.
“Where are the kids?”
Lois swallowed audibly and twisted to face him. The bump pressed into his bare torso. He expected to feel the baby kick by now, but she or he was a slow bloomer. Lois wrapped her long legs around him. “Clark, look at me,” she said. “I’m fat.”
“Of course, you’re fat,” Clark said. “You’re pregnant. It’s only natural to gain weight.”
“Please, Clark,” Lois cupped his face with both hands. “Look harder.” She couldn’t mean for him to X-ray her? That was impossible. The red sun shone through the window. He couldn’t look through her even if he wanted to.
“I can’t,” Clark said. “You know I have no powers on Krypton.”
Lois whimpered and hugged him. “Please,” she begged. “This madness has to end. I’m not pregnant anymore. Try to remember. Come back home, Smallville.”
“Lois, I’m right here,” Clark held her tightly. Lois’ tears soaked his torso. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She knotted a fist in him, body shaking. Lois hiccupped weakly. “I miss Clark.”
“This is just the hormones talking,” Clark kissed her head. “You’ll feel better after you eat something.”
Slowly she lifted her head. Clark frowned as her eyes brightened. She had that look that spelled trouble. He was grateful Luthor wasn’t on Krypton. Superman didn’t have the stamina to chase after her. He was getting too old for that. Lois leaped out of bed and shrugged into a robe. Clark ached to follow her, but his legs refused to cooperate. They felt like iron, immobilized iron.
She was gone for less than ten minutes and Jon began bawling. His sister shortly added her two cents with more screams. “Lois!” Clark called into the empty room. “LANE!” Nothing. “LANE!” Nothing. “Lane-Kent!”
There was the pitter-patter of footprints. Clark frantically searched the room for Lois. The babies wailed and kicked in their crib. Clark was powerless to ease them. Eira settled on the bed beside him and mopped the tears off his face. He hadn’t even realized he’d been crying. He hugged the massive wolf as he once held Lois. “Don’t leave me!”
Clark tensed, clawing at the sheets. Lara stepped out of the shadows and clutched her son’s hand. “Never, my sweet boy,” she said in their old tongue. “Ama’s here.” she kissed his sweaty knuckles and rubbed them through her hands. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Clark relaxed into her. “ I’m sorry Ama – I failed.”
“Your father lived a full life ,” Lara said. “I’m so proud to call you my son .”
“I’m so glad you found me,” Clark hugged his mother. He couldn’t remember a time without her. He had a life before Krypton, but it was so long ago. Van had just turned ten when they were reunited. Lois gave up her life on Earth to give him a chance to reunite with his dead parents . . . who had never died. Krypton never exploded. They built a new home on Krypton, and their family grew.
The babies wailed and screamed. He called out to Lois, but she didn’t come. Elara howled, announcing to the world her displeasure. She kicked her brother in the face and he bawled even harder. “LOIS I need you!” Clark added to the chaos with his own screams. They were hungry and probably needed a diaper change.
Clark tentatively wriggled his left foot. Then the other. Movements were stiff and prickly, but he had successfully moved by himself. He ran a hand over the puncture wound and flinched. The goggled man was back. A scalpel dove down on Clark. Agony consumed his ribcage. He gasped and blanked his mind. That had never happened. He wasn’t a lab rat. He was a hero . . . a hero, who failed to save his father.
The sudden pressure beside Clark alerted him Lois had returned. She whimpered as she got situated on the bed. Her trembling body shook the mattress. Tears brimmed in her eyes —tears of joy he hoped. Lois inhaled sharply and massaged the bump. The babies continued to wail, but she paid them no mind. She stayed glued to Clark.
“It’s time to feed the babies,” Clark begged. He worried about how opposed Lois was to breastfeeding. He thought after two months she would be used to it. He frowned. No. That wasn’t right. They were almost a year old. Then why were not crawling yet? He grabbed his head, headache intensifying. Something was wrong.
Lois twirled a finger through a long strand, unfastening a stubborn knot.“Let’s worry about Daddy first,” Lois said, showing him a bowl full of purple pasta. Eira shot to attention, her pointy ears twitching. Clark wrinkled his nose, rocks forming in his belly. The pasta wasn’t supposed to be purple.
“What is that?”
It didn’t look like any food he was familiar with on Krypton.
“The neighbor paid us a visit,” she explained. “It’s a Kryptonian remedy,” she explained. “It’s all the rage in Kryptonopolis with soldiers.”
He looked dubiously down at the green spaghetti with a suspicious creamy, purple sauce. It smelled funny. A neighbor, what neighbor? They were in the middle of the boonies. He thought they moved to the country after the Black Zero attack.
Lois propped Clark up against the pillows, wincing slightly.
“Are you okay?” Clark asked. She was shivering.
“Don’t worry about me, honey,” Lois pecked him on the lips. “Mommy’s just a little tired, that’s all.”
“Come to bed,” Clark drew the covers back. His spine throbbed in protest at the little movement. Lois twirled the spaghetti onto the fork. Clark stubbornly shook his head. “I’m not hungry.” He didn’t need to eat.
“Please, for me, Smallville?” Lois coaxed his mouth open. He begrudgingly swallowed the pasta. It had a sweet, tangy taste with a spicy kick. “That’s it, see you love it, it’s delicious.” She smiled encouragingly.
Clark nodded weakly and allowed her to feed him some more. There was something familiar about the flavor. He felt like he had eaten it before. But how was that possible? He didn’t think there was pasta on Krypton. Wait. Why would there be pasta in Kryptonopolis? What kind of remedy was this?
It was then he noticed Elara was sitting upright, propped against the crib’s bars. She sucked on the Superman cape, blinking rapidly at mommy and Daddy. Her expression reminded him of Eira ogling a lamb chop. Jon laid on his back, whimpering softly as he reached for Daddy. Clark’s chest tightened. He wished he could have picked him up, and comforted Jon like he once did with Van and Martha.
Krypto appeared at the foot of the bed, wagging his tail excitedly. He sat obediently, tongue dangling adorably out of his mouth. He looked at Lois and Clark with big-doe eyes.
“Ugh-uh,” Lois wagged a finger at the pup. “This is not for you. Scram!” Krypto rolled over and sat again, emitting a sharp bark. Calling him a pup wasn’t fair. He had hit a growth spurt the last few months and was the size of a healthy Border Collie.
“You’re cute, but not that cute,” Lois told him, guiding another forkful into Clark’s mouth. Clark swallowed with some difficulty. Clark met Krypto’s gaze. While Lois was distracted he dropped a string of spaghetti on the floor. Eira zoomed off the bed and attacked the noodle before Krypto could.
Krypto sniffed the clean floor and looked at Clark sadly, emitting a low whine. “Winning mother of the year, aren’t you,” Clark scowled at the massive wolf. Eira wagged her tail and rested her big head on Clark’s lap, begging for more. Krypto mimicked her, plopping his head in Lois’ lap.
Lois looked between the wolf and Clark, mortified. “Did you just feed her?”
“No, of course not,” Clark said. “Spicy food is bad for dogs.”
Lois sniffed the pasta and tried some of it. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “It’s not spicy.”
“It is for dogs,” Clark persisted.
Lois swatted him playfully, not falling for his lie. She wagged a finger at Clark in a warning and resumed feeding him. “I’ve been thinking,” Lois said, waiting for Clark to swallow. Clark nodded to show he was listening. “I’m homesick,” Lois said. “I miss my sister … last I heard she had a baby on the way,” Lois said.
Clark frowned. He had a vague recollection of a pregnant Lucy. She had been expecting while Lois was pregnant with the twins. He studied his wife’s distended belly. She looked four months pregnant. What were the odds of the Lane sisters being pregnant at the same time, again?
“I want to go back home,” Lois said.
“We are home,” Clark said. “You know why we can’t go back.”
“We will be safe on Earth away from Black Zero,” Lois said. “Jon and Elara could meet their cousins,” she wiped the sauce off his beard. “Don’t you miss Perry and Jimmy?”
“Sure,” Clark said weakly. “But I can’t move. I’m in no condition to man a spacecraft.”
“Your stubbornness is truly legendary,” Lois said in a biting tone.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Clark challenged.
“Nothing,” Lois gritted her teeth. Her face was red in fury. She glared at him and shoved fistfuls of pasta down his throat.
His stomach was starting to feel heavy. He struggled to breathe. It felt like snakes were wrestling inside him. He didn’t want to disappoint her so he didn’t say anything. Feeding him seemed to make Lois lighter—happier. When Lois wasn’t looking he dropped morsels on the floor for the dogs. Unbeknownst to him, his daughter had been watching him intently. She took her brother’s pacifier out of his mouth. Clark froze mid-swallow. Elara waited till she had Krypto’s attention and dropped the pacifier. It bopped off Krypto’s head and toppled to the floor. Jon wailed. Krypto picked the pacifier up and hovered toward the crying baby.
“No,” Clark groaned, mouth full of spaghetti. He frantically waved his arms. Lois held him down, mumbling soothing words.
“Krypto . . . No!” Clark screamed
Clark was too late. Krypto dropped the slobbery pacifier next to Jon. “LOIS THE BABY!”
“I’m right here, baby,” she wiped his mouth with a napkin and fixed another bite.
Jon reached for the pacifier. Clark tumbled out of bed, his limbs a cattywampus mess. Lois squealed and jumped back, knocking the bowl of pasta to the floor. The dogs went to town. He limped to the crib, stomach twinging in discomfort, and snatched the contaminated pacifier from Jon. Jon howled in frustration.
“It’s okay,” Clark soothed, offering the baby a clean pacifier. He sucked on it happily and made squeezing motions with his fists. Clark lifted him out of the crib, cradling the infant against his bare chest. Jon’s mouth opened, the pacifier sagging down his face. Before Clark could catch it, that too fell to the floor. “Damn it,” Clark sighed. “I mean darn it.”
Lois chuckled. “All this stress because of a piece of plastic,” Lois crouched to retrieve the pacifier. She faltered, bracing a hand on her belly. Her eyes watered with pain. “Their father eats guns for breakfast,” Lois chided, wiping the slobber off the pacifier with her robe. “A little dog slobber . . . isn’t gonna hurt,” her words morphed into a moan and she braced herself against the bedpost.
“Honey?” Clark said in a panicky whisper. Lois sank into the mattress. Clark sat down beside her, cradling Jon. With his free hand, Clark massaged the bump. “Better?” Lois grabbed his hand and guided it to the incision scar.
She closed her eyes, breathing heavily as Clark gently applied pressure on the scar. “I think I’m dying,” Lois wheezed.
“You’re not,” Clark said, repositioning Jon so he could fit Lois on his lap. Baby and mother squeezed onto his lap. His stomach dropped to the floor. Fingers wriggled down his throat making it hard to breathe. His mouth tasted funny. “I won’t let that happen.”
Lois nodded and nestled against him. Sweat dripped down his back in sheets. His legs were wobbly and felt like jello. It was a miracle he stood as long as he did. There was a strange pinching sensation on his chest like a parademon’s bite. Clark jumped. Jon had mistakenly latched onto Clark, trying in vain to suck out milk. He gnawed and bit, growing more frustrated with each second.
Clark relaxed into the strange sensation. Jon had done this before. The baby grew heavy in his arms. It had been hours after his birth. Jon had been no bigger than a kitten, delicate and fragile, his body barely filling the palms of Clark’s hand. Kara had been there... . amused Jon sucked on the wrong parent. Did he remember that correctly? There was a conflicting memory of him in a hospital waiting room, Martha drawing at his feet, and Van pacing the lobby, as they all waited to greet the newest El family members. Which was it?
Jon continued to nibble plaintively at Daddy’s breast. ‘Wrong parent, sweetie,’ Kara’s voice echoed in his head, amused and airy. The red-solar light melted away, replaced by glaring fluorescent lights. He wore too-tight sweatpants that smelled like gunpowder and Olsen. Lois sprawled beside him, weak and exhausted from just giving birth. Diana cradled Elara, who was ever so much bigger than her brother.
Diana.
Wonder Woman didn’t belong on Krypton. He had attended her wedding in Gotham. He also remembered her calling Batman a ‘backstabbing, self-absorbed, paranoid, tyrant.’ She choked Batman, squeezing the life out of him. The shadows stretched on her face, contorting into a metallic mask of horror. A black crown held her brain in, the crimson Omega symbol devouring her left eye socket. ‘Then I have no further use for you.’
Blood trickled out of Batman’s mouth. He turned purple.
Clark saw red. He choked on gore and Amazonian pieces. His friend erupted in an explosion of red and gold. Her animatronic arm hit him in the face. He turned it to ash with one look. His stomach twisted in agony, as he drowned in Wonder Woman’s remains.
Clark retched, choking on blood. His stomach twisted violently. He tried to stand, but his legs shook. He collapsed to his knees. Jon cried, but it was a distant echo. Lois’ screams mingled in with the babies.’ Her head swam into focus. The light played tricks on him and he saw Wonder Woman’s demented smile before he tore her to shreds. “I’m a . . . monster,” Clark gagged. Bile rose up Clark’s throat. He bowled over and puked over the rug.
“SMALLVILLE!”
He continued to heave and spew, till nothing of that vile taste remained. He saw Wonder Woman’s intestines at the center of the pile of puke. The sight sickened him even more. He puked till there was nothing left of him. He sagged against the bedside table, lightheaded and completely drained. “Focus on my voice,” Lois grabbed him by the face with both hands. “You’re not a monster. You had no choice!”
He wasn’t looking at Lois. In his turmoil, he had dropped Jon. He wailed at the foot of the bed, kicking and screaming. Krypto licked the tears off his face; that upset Jon even more. He dove a finger into Krypto’s nostril. Krypto allowed the baby to manhandle him.
“Jon,” Clark croaked. “Did I hurt him?”
He felt Lois tense beside him. She looked over to where the baby lay, disinterested. Quickly she turned her attention to her husband. “He’s fine.”
“Good,” Clark whispered, his body losing the battle to stay awake.
*******************
That would make it the sixth time Clark had thrown up in the last two months. Lois was baffled. The man had swallowed a bomb hole once, leaving him with little to no stomach ache. She had seen him eat thirteen hamburgers in one sitting. He survived drinking curdled milk no human had any business consuming. Yet, nothing she fed him seemed to stay down nowadays, not even soup.
She studied the icky, purplish-green puke. It was as thick as oatmeal, strips of spaghetti mingled with chunks of blood and stomach acid. The blood was new. His condition was deteriorating. It used to be just loose bile. Clark snored loudly. That was also new. He didn’t used to snore. It was almost as if he was punishing himself.
Lois watched as Krypto ate the vomit. At least someone was enjoying Bobby’s cooking. She thought for sure the Mxyzptlk Mozzarella would be strange enough to trick Clark’s body into believing it was Kryptonian food. She feared there was more than an upset stomach causing him to vomit. She watched Clark sleep fitfully on the floor. He had lost so much weight she saw the outline of his ribcage. Somebody was going to have to move him eventually. The old Lois might have succeeded. She could barely keep herself upright. She had no choice but to leave him on the floor.
The beastie bawling beside Clark was more manageable. Lois crawled toward Jon, limbs refusing to cooperate. She buried down the aches and reached for Jon. He stopped fussing as soon as she gathered him in her arms. She examined him from head to toe, relieved when she found no bruises. Had she expected any less? He was his father’s son. Besides, Clark hadn’t dropped him that far.
Her knees groaned as she pulled herself and the baby off the floor. She timidly stepped around the vomit and opened the curtains to allow some sunlight indoors. She then flicked the red solar lamps off. Elara watched her mother’s shenanigans with open curiosity from the crib.
“Don’t give me that look,” Lois said. Elara frowned. “Yes, that look . . . your fathers ‘you’re up to no good’ look.” She calmly stared back. Jon gurgled and clapped a hand on her breast. “I can’t lift him.” Elara blinked and licked her lips. She glanced in Eira’s direction. “Oh, you trust the dog more than me, that’s nice.”
Lois scooped her daughter into her other arm. She shuddered, realizing it was the first time she held both twins together. She didn’t know if it was because she needed the close content to reassure her or something more instinctive was at play. Lois dropped into the rocking chair by the window. She rocked back and forth as much to reassure the twins as herself. Morning sunlight flooded the bedroom.
Sunrays grazed Clark’s gaunt face. His snoring quieted, turning to soft wheezing breaths. Till finally he moved no more. Eira tuckered in behind Clark, providing her body as a long pillow. It made Lois feel slightly less guilty for leaving him on the floor.
Elara stretched, leg dangling off the armrest. Elara Martha Kent came into the world at a hefty ten pounds and had a head full of thick black curls, unlike her practically bald brother. She didn’t fit into the newborn clothes. Soon she will outgrow the clothes for a three-month baby too.
“It’s my fault kid,” Lois said. “I was a big baby too,” Lois said conversationally. She had seen the baby photos of Clark. Despite popular misconceptions, Superman was a relatively average-sized baby. Mama K. would even say, small for his age. Jon favored Clark in that way. Elara was long and bigheaded just like Lois.
Lois offered her finger to Elara, who squeezed it experimentally. She made a face that Lois could only describe as haughty – the face of a princess bored with a farmer. Her eyes rolled around, no doubt trying to find Clark. Lois never got tired of looking at Elara’s eyes. She had her father’s eyes. “Leave Daddy, alone,” Lois tilted her daughter’s head to face mommy. “He needs rest.”
Jon started to cry plaintively. “No, ugh no,” Lois cooed, feeling like an idiot. “Shhhh!” she hissed. “You’re going to wake the baby,” she waved helplessly in Clark’s direction. Jon looked at her baffled and continued to bawl. “Sorry, I don’t speak baby.”
“He’s hungry,” Martha poked her head into the room. She glanced briefly at Clark on the floor but mercifully bit her tongue. Martha had been against feeding Clark before he was ready. Lois and she had gotten into heated arguments about it. “I brought his bottle,” Martha said.
“Thank you,” Lois said, gasping suddenly as Elara pinched her nipple. Milk soaked through her tank top. “You and I are going to have a serious talk about boundaries, young lady,” Lois said. She placed the twins back in the crib and wandered to the bathroom to change. Her old clothes still refused to fit so she settled on an old reliable outfit, leggings, and Hubby’s flannel shirt.
When she returned Martha sat on the rocking chair, feeding Jon with a serene smile. “He has your mouth,” she smiled. Jon slapped at the bottle and scrunched his face with distaste. “Don’t tell me, we’ve got a picky eater on our hands,” Martha cooed. Jon howled in dismay, spitting up the formula. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Martha sighed, bracing the infant over her shoulder. She gently tapped his back, massaging it in soothing circles. Jon burped up the milk he swallowed. He rested his little head on Martha’s shoulder and looked pleadingly at Lois.
“Formula good enough for Marielle Troupe, it’s good enough for Jon Kent,” Lois said, hands on hips. She swore Elara rolled her eyes at Mommy. “You’re super scary, kid,” she told her daughter.
“I don’t know, Lois,” Martha said dubiously. “These aren’t average babies.” Her gaze drifted to Clark’s unconscious form. Lois could see her mother-in-law struggling to keep her opinion to herself.
“I worry regular formula isn’t going to cut it,” Martha said.
“What did you feed Clark?” Lois asked. It was strange the things she would have never thought of before.
“We did live on a dairy farm,” she said. “Yes we did,” she said in a singsong voice, tickling her grandson’s face. “Daddy preferred Ol’ Bertha.”
“So you never tried formula?” Lois clarified. “You used cow milk. I thought that was bad for a baby’s digestive system.”
Martha looked down at the vomit on the floor and then back at Lois. “I didn’t know half the time what I was doing,” she lamented. “Sometimes I thought I was killing him. None of the store-bought formulas worked.”
Lois wondered why they even bothered to buy it. Neither of the twins seemed to like it.
“It was Jonathan’s idea to try cow milk,” Martha said. “Took lots of trial and error. Sunflower seeds mixed with cow milk seemed to do the trick,” she said. “Unfortunately, I don’t think Jon has the same preferences as his father.”
“He’s such a mama’s boy,” Lois groaned, sinking into the mattress.
“Like his Daddy,” Martha said timidly. She sighed, glanced once more at Clark, and faced Lois. “Jonathan went to fetch Dr. Klein.”
Lois let the news settle. She wasn’t asking, she was telling her. The last few months had been rife with tension, each of the women in Clark’s life having their own opinions on how best to help him. Lois was losing her patience with both Clark and his mother. Martha wanted to push Clark outside — Lois feared more people would recognize him. Then where would they be? A sniper camping in their front yard. Best to keep Clark, close and safe where she could protect him.
“Why didn’t he just call . . .” words failed her as she remembered not every household had the benefit of a Wayne satellite to power them. “What about the Red Death?”
“It’s worth the risk,” Martha said. “He’s not getting better on his own.”
Lois feared Clark didn’t need Dr. Klein, he needed a therapist. “Are we just going to leave him there?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time, I let my baby sleep on the floor.”
“Mama K.!” Lois said astounded. "What kind of mother does that?"
“Oh, hush, now,” Martha said. “He was perfectly safe. You have no idea how many cribs he broke.”