The wind became a soft breeze as he gradually slowed speed. The tops of trees swept past below. It seemed as relaxing as a Sunday drive and yet as unbelievable as a fairytale.
Searching his profile, it didn't go without notice that his eyes had returned to normal and self-conscious tension lay in the lines around his mouth.
"Losen your grip–I'm not sure how much landing will shake you."
That seemed like an odd thing to say, but she loosened her grip around his neck all the same.
He straightened and aimed his feet at the ground. By twenty feet down, his body began to tremble hard. Ten feet from the ground, he vibrated so hard that it almost hurt to hold onto him. His face contorted at five feet, and he dropped the last several inches.
Her grip tightened on him out of instinct from falling, but he recovered and eased her onto her feet.
She took a step back and wrapped her arms around herself, the shock of flying causing a shiver in the warm morning air.
His eyes dropped to her waist like he was ashamed.
"Did you just...?"
A slow, hesitant nod answered.
"H, how long have you...?" The shock wouldn't let sentences form.
"Since that time you saw me rise a few inches."
Her eyebrows rose. "For months? You've known about this for months and didn't think to tell me?!"
No reaction.
"Why? How?"
His fingers shoved in his front jeans pockets, those blue eyes still downcast. "I didn't want to freak you out like this," he whispered. "I didn't want you to look at me differently." That self-conscious outcast from Kansas returned to stand before her instead of the confident, happy reporter whom had begun to bloom.
Stepping up to him, she set a hand on his chest and tilted her head back to meet his eyes. "I'm not looking at you differently; I'm trying to figure out how a man just flew!"
"Alien," he breathed in correction.
Holding up a hand in irritation, she gave him a look. "Oh, you did not just go there. What, I'm supposed to just go about my day like this is an every day occurrence? How the hell can you even fly?"
He swallowed hard. "Dr. Klein says it's vibrations sent against the ground that overcome the gravitational pull. It's why I shake as I get closer to the ground—I have to increase the frequency." His cheeks burned in embarrassment.
The man looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die from shame. Anger boiled that he'd learned to be so disgusted with himself. "Stop it!" She shoved on his chest, and stumbled back a step from bouncing off his hard body. Pain shot up her wrist. "Ow," she hissed and grabbed her wrist.
He stepped forward.
"It's fine!" She shook her hand out.
"You want me to stop what?" Confusion wrinkled his brow. At least he didn't look ashamed, with the distraction.
She threw up her other hand. "Looking like I should run screaming from you! I hate that they made you so ashamed!" The rage burst out any way possible, even as tears stinging. "You're not some freak! You're beautiful, and I hate that you're scared to trust me!" The emotions died just as fast. Sniffling and holding fingers to her lips, breath stilled. That outburst had pushed him to far. He'd run at any second.
His head cocked, a frown of confusion squinting his eyes. "It upsets you this much that I'm uncomfortable with myself? I worry you will become nervous around me. It's not about trust, Lois. It's about not frightening you." He took a step forward and slowly reached out his hand, as if giving time to back away. Then he eased her against his hard chest in a hug.
Her arms wrapped around his solid steel and held tight, despite the discomfort of his hardness. "I see you suffer and try to hide it."
His body began to soften.
"You'd never hurt anyone, so I don't understand why you think I'd be afraid of you."
He sighed. "Lois, Dr. Klein thinks for some reason I didn't physically mature until meeting you and having those reactions—almost like puberty hit now, but for my...capabilities. I'm able to do more and more things, some of which even my mom says look scary."
Leaning back, she searched his eyes. "Then tell me about them first. It's only frightening if you use them for evil, but you wouldn't."
A soul-deep sigh escaped him this time. "You have so much faith in me, Lois. You shouldn't, because how easily it could crush you."
She stroked his cheek. "Or maybe you should have more."
"We should figure out what happened with your car." He took a step back to go.
Gripping his hand tighter, she pulled him close again. "It will still be wrecked in a few minutes. Talk to me. We're in the middle of a field—no one is around to hear us."
It hurt to see him look so nervous.
"Promise that you'll tell me to stop if it starts to frighten you."
She nodded and squeezed his hand tighter.
"I can fly fast enough to create a sonic boom."
"That's hardly frightening." A frown of confusion pulled.
He swallowed hard and searched her face. "I can shoot heat lasers from my eyes."
She blinked.
His hand tightened, as if afraid of her reaction. He slowly continued. "It scares Mom. She said my eyes glow red and veins spider out a couple inches on my face."
A headache threatened from frowning so severely. "Does it hurt?"
It took a moment for him to process the question, as if surprised at her lack of reaction. He nodded. "Not as in pain exactly, but my eyes feel hot and it causes intense pressure in my head. It hurts less each time as I figure out how to control the intensity."
With a nod, she set a hand on his arm with her free hand. "What else?"
He gaze dropped to the ground. "I can, um, go through the ozone. I can go into space and hold my breath for nearly thirty minutes."
Her eyebrows shot up. "As in you just fly through it, no protection or anything to keep from burning up?"
A nod was his answer.
Taking advantage of his softened skin, she smacked his arm. "What were you thinking to even try that?! What if you had burned up?!"
The man frowned. "I can walk through fire, so it wasn't a complete risk."
"What?! Are you stupid?! Why did you even try walking through fire?! I can't believe you!"
He tried to pull his hand away to raise it in surrender.
"Oh no, I get to take advantage of you being soft." She swatted his arm again. "That's for your stupidity. Try something like that again, and I'll tell your mother I've found a way to spank you!"
That only won a smile. "I'm not sure you should tell my mother that you spank me."
A flush of embarrassment shot up. "I did not say that!" She dropped his hand.
He pulled her against his chest, a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at her mouth. "I like it when you yell at me. I'm bigger and much stronger, but you aren't afraid to take me to task." His voice grew husky and deeper.
Her heart fluttered. "Someone needs too," she huffed, only it didn't carry much bite with how breathless she was. Every sense focused on him. Desire pulled her body toward him, like a magnet. A need pulled with intensity so strong it was almost like a spell. Reason flew out the window, ready to succumb to this strange instinct.
His eyes dilated almost instantaneously, and his body pressed in a way that only made her cling tighter. Just his scent caused a wave of pleasure.
In the next instant, she fell forward into thin air. He stood more than a hundred feet away. His chest heaved as he ran his hands through his hair and began pacing.
Just like that, the spell was broken.
He returned a couple minutes later, but kept a distance. "Lois, I'm sorry. I'm going to check what happened with the car. Then I'll be back." His voice quivered, as if he'd frightened himself. There was nothing but thin air in the next second.
A long, steadying breath swept out. He was far too handsome and innocent for his own good.
Distress filled his eyes when he returned minutes later. "Was your car in the apartment parking lot?"
"No, the apartment garage. Why?"
His hands rested on his hips. "Your car is trashed, but from what I can x-ray, it looks like some kind of motor was added under the hood that forced acceleration. The brake line was cut."
A chill ran through.
"Do you have any idea who might've done this?"
She shook her head and held his distressed gaze. "Whomever is behind the sewage plant is my only guess."
He ran a hand over his face. "That's exactly whom I suspect too. Apparently being shut down by the government wasn't enough for them–I think they want your head as revenge." A long sigh released. "Call your mom from my cell so she knows you're alright, but tell her that she has to play along with it that you're dead. Then I'm taking you to my parents' house until I figure out who is behind this."
"What? No! I'm not going into hiding like some frightened chicken. Plus, there's no body–"
"If I dig up a Jane Doe in a cemetery and set the car on fire again, there will be a body...well, forensics are good enough these days to know she died long before the crash." He ran a hand over his face.
"Ha! See? I'm not going into hiding." She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Uh, what are you doing?"
"You're taking me back to work so we can figure out who is behind this."
The man eased her arms free. "Uh, no. You're getting out of town."
"Uh, no, I'm going to the office to make calls. You can either take me there and hover like a worried old woman, or I can call a cab and go myself."
"And you're not going to file an insurance claim on the car? You can't just leave the scene. How are you going to explain getting away unscathed?" His eyebrows rose to prove his point. "See? You need to fake your death. By the time we figure out who did this, you can claim you healed from minor injuries and a concussion."
A smile pulled. "Or," she set a finger to the tiny hint of a cleft in his chin, "I tell them a mysterious rescuer came and saved me. If you insist on running around saving lives from certain death, you're going to have to come up with some kind of disguise." A wiggle of her eyebrows didn't seem to convince him.
He snorted. "Yeah, that sounds like a sure way to end up in a lab. Why don't I just hand myself over to Area 51 right now?"
"Well, only let them know about some of your capabilities, like your strength."
Those blue eyes bugged. "Do you hear yourself? They'd find out about my strength and speed–that's enough for experimental tests! How soon before they realize they can't stick needles in me? I think you hit your head–you've lost your mind!"
"I'm not saying to go throwing yourself in the spotlight–"
"No."
She set her hands on his chest. "Clark, I wouldn't propose something that would be dangerous. Hear me out."
His eyes narrowed. "I'm done with this conversation." A note of steel filled his voice as he pulled off her hands.
It'd be better to bring this up again after he had time to mull it over. "Fine. Are you going to tell me what tests you let Dr. Klein do on you?"
A fierce scowl screwed up his face. "Are we in the Twilight Zone? Someone tried to kill you, your car is blown up, and we're in the middle of the country without a plan, but you want to have this discussion?"
She shrugged. "No one's going to find me out here, so it's as good a time as any. Plus, I need time to think of a plan." Searching his eyes, she set a hand on his arm. "Will you tell me at least if he hurt you?"
In that split instant of the question leaving her lips, he clammed up. "Of course medical tests aren't fun. He didn't do anything I didn't consent to," he snapped, his eyes cold.
Nausea swam up. What had he subjected himself to? "Clark, I ask because I don't want you to get hurt pushing for answers on where you're from." Keeping the tone gentle and calm might get him to open up.
"On what I am, you mean," he snarled and began to walk away.
She took a step to follow.
"I don't know—" He spun around with a finger held up.
His hard hand rammed against her shoulder. Slamming into the ground with such force gave no time for reaction.
In the next instant, he knelt before her and eased his hand out from under her head. He must've slowed the fall enough to not bang her head on the hard, crusted field dirt.
"Lois, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you were right behind me," he fretted and helped her sit up. "Where are you hurt?" His eyes dilated and his touch grew harder.
It took a moment for the daze to fade and shoulder pain from the hit to set in. An ache in the opposite hip began to throb from hitting the dry dirt. "I'm fine." She tried to get up.
"No, you're not. I can smell your stress hormones increasing from pain." He withdrew his hands and only touched the shirt sleeve material to expose her arm where a large bruise formed already. A gentle breeze of cold air blew over it, easing away the pain.
"Thanks." She pulled down the sleeve and pushed herself up. Clenching teeth against the hip pain, she turned to him. This was another set back that would make him pull away even more.
"Where else are you hurt?" He stood and searched her eyes. "And don't lie—I hear your elevated heart rate and smell your cortisol rising more."
"I dropped with more than my own weight behind it. I'm just sore." She reached a hand out to him.
He stepped back. "I keep hurting you," he barked, "It's not safe for you to me near me."
"You accidentally grabbed my arm hard one time when we didn't even know you could get stronger, and you bumped me down. I'm much sturdier than that."
His eyes narrowed. "And if my hand had hit your head instead of your arm, you could be in a coma!"
Setting a hand on her hip, she cocked an eyebrow. "You should've gone into theater. You've saved me far more times than caused accidents. You know now that you get stronger when you're reacting, so you know to be careful—"
So much emotion flooded his eyes. "And what if I seriously hurt you? How am I supposed to live with that? How am I supposed to ask you to keep taking that risk? At least being secluded means I won't hurt anyone."
A gust of wind, and he was gone.
She looked down at what filled her hands. His cell phone and money. It must be to call a cab. Anger surged. Throwing them on the ground, she shouted, "I know you can hear me! That's the coward's way out!"
He didn't return.
"Fine! I'll go find out who is doing this by myself! Murderers are a lot more dangerous than a bump on the arm!" She flipped open the cell and started dialing Perry's number to get approval for overtime this weekend.
The phone ripped out of her hands. Clark stood there, his eyes fierce and nostrils flared as his chest heaved in a temper. "You are not going after them. I will figure this out while you're out of the state with my parents."
She frowned. "No." Reaching around him for the phone was a mistake.
His arm wrapped around her waist, stopping her from reaching the phone. Her body pressed against his.
Those blue eyes shifted from angry to intimate to slightly dilated. His body softened.
Her knees grew weak looking up into his eyes. That pull to him, that instant desire, came to life. The need for him was almost overwhelming.
"Is this what attraction feels like to humans?" he breathed.
She kept her hands on his chest, not trusting to not succumb to the spell if holding him close. His hot breath made her tongue run over her lower lip, wanting nothing more than to taste his cinnamon-flavored mouth. "No," she whispered, "I've never felt this." She rose onto her toes, coming closer to his lips. "I don't understand it. I want you." That confession should've been embarrassing, but it felt safe to be so honest with him.
A throaty groan vibrated his chest. "Lois, I want you too. I've never wanted a woman." His lips brushed over hers in the softest kiss. "I don't think it's real. I smell some kind of pheromone coming from me. I think it's brainwashing you." His tongue slipped into her mouth in a tender kiss.
She clung, with fistfuls of his shirt. There was so much desire and pleasure and safety and...love in his arms.
He lifted his head, grief reflecting in his eyes. "Your body is having a chemical reaction. It's not real." Then he slowly released her from his arms and backed away.
The intense craving faded instantly, but the feelings for him didn't. "You're so certain." Her arms wrapped around her middle. This wasn't going to end well—it was palpable that he was shutting down. "You so readily make choices for me."
He smirked. "No woman would ever choose this."
It was time to take a leap of faith. "I would. The intensity of those emotions is gone, but they're still there. They've always been there."
The man stared, as if dumbfounded.
Say something, anything. But he didn't.
"Lois, I think you're confusing being rescued and the pheromone influence with something else."
That stung. Swallowing hard, looking back in the direction of the car would help with the embarrassment. "Someday someone special is going to say it to you, and you'll believe her." How strange it was to want someone else's happiness more, even at the expense of your own pain. "I hope she makes you really happy." Having a better grip on the tears that had threatened, she turned back to him, his face unreadable. "Um, I'm gonna go take care of the car. I'll see you Monday." She turned and started walking.
"Lois, I'm not going to leave you out here without even a phone." An odd note of distress softened his voice, as if he was coming up with any excuse.
She turned, not quite able to meet his eyes. "Clark, you get to leave whenever you're humiliated. Let me have that too." Daring a glance, shock seemed to render him speechless. Using the opportunity to get some distance, she started the laborious journey to the road over the dry, rocky field.
This break for the weekend would be good. It'd give some perspective and time to let emotions cool before having to face him again on Monday.
The next step was on an uneven row of dirt. Just as the ankle gave away, an arm wrapped around and steadied the world.
His hard chest pressed against her back. A soft puff of air brushed her ear as his face buried in her hair. "I did find her," he whispered, "but I'm so afraid of frightening or harming her."
Her heart stilled. Turning, she searched his eyes.
Everything laid vulnerable and uncloaked in those beautiful eyes. Even frightened of himself and of rejection, he offered up everything that could be shattered for forever.
Stroking his cheek as his body began to succumb to her touch, she held his gaze. "You're a good man. You may frighten some, but only because they don't know you to understand there is no evil. You couldn't truly harm anyone without trying."
He caressed a lock of hair away that the wind blew over her cheek. "I don't even know what I am," he breathed, his eyes searching her heart.
"A man who is meant to be something great. You fear what you are physically, but whatever that may become is ruled by what is here." Her other hand rested over his heart. "If this is good, that's all that can come from you."
A sigh came from the depths of his soul. His hand cupped over hers on his cheek, and his dark lashes swept down to close his eyes. "I wish things were different. I wish I was normal and wasn't awkward and—"
"No one thinks you're awkward but you. You just need to believe in yourself more."
She looked at him across the table during lunch at his parents' house. He'd been on the call with Mom and told about the two attempts on her life, so Mom had insisted that she go out to Kansas to hide until Clark and the police could figure out who was behind it.
Their conversation had been cut short when sirens had arrived nearby, probably at the scene of the accident. Clark convinced the police and paramedics that they'd been in the car together and pulled over on the side of the road to get out and take pictures when it had taken off by itself. The police had bought it.
And Clark hadn't said anything since this morning about their earlier conversation. He'd seemed happy and open about everything—even flying her to his parents' house—everything but that talk.
"Honey, I promise he won't disappear if you stop staring at him," Martha's voice said near her ear.
Turning her head, a flush crept up to see Martha leaning over with a smile. "Oh, I was lost in thought. I'm sorry, I'm not being a good conversationalist, am I?"
Jonathan exchanged a smile with Martha.
Another stolen glance revealed a warm smile from Clark. It made butterflies come alive inside.
He crossed his arms and leaned them down on the table. "You haven't eaten much." A twinkle filled his eye, and he glanced at her plate.
The sandwich and apple sat mostly uneaten.
"Oh." The flush grew hotter, and she ate the sandwich as Jonathan graciously took up conversation.
"You're not helping," she sighed under her breath, too softly for anyone else to hear.
His smile only grew as he watched her. Then he sat back with his hands behind his head. "As soon as Slow Pants finishes, I'm going to show her around the barn. I think she'll like meeting Annabelle."
Martha's eyes widened. "You be a good host, Clark."
Jonathan chuckled behind his hand.
She frowned. "Who's Annabelle?"
"A big mistake," Martha said, her glare on Clark. "I mean it. If you misbehave, you're doing the dishes tonight."
When she finished, he grabbed an apple and her hand and tugged her outside.
On the porch, he tossed her the apple. "Come, I'll show you around, city girl."
She followed but gave him a suspicious look. "How come I get the feeling you're a naughty child when in Kansas? Who is Annabelle?"
"I'm not going to do anything to scare you." He stopped at a large barn door and slid it open.
A couple cows and miniature goats inside started making noise and bucking.
"Animals go crazy if I come near them. Go on over to the brown goat and offer the apple."
Her eyebrows shot up. "He's kicking. I'm not going near him."
He cracked a smile. "She. Go. She won't hurt you. Just don't go up right behind her."
Giving him a long look, she went inside. The minute Clark disappeared from sight, they settled down. "Annabelle, look at what I have." She held out the apple and crouched down a few feet away.
The brown goat turned away and continued eating her hay.
Then a tiny noise filled the barn from the other side of the goat. "Baaaah." A little black goat, no bigger than a small dog, peeked out.
A laugh burst out. "Are you Annabelle? Why, you're just a baby. Come here."
Wiggling the apple made the tiny beast trot over. Tiny hooves rested on her thigh as the goat reached up for the treat. "Baaaah!"
"Okay, okay." With a giggle, she handed over the apple and twished to look back over her shoulder.
Clark peeked around the door, a smile on his face.
But the animals must've seen because they made noise and kicked. Annabelle ran away behind her mother.
He vanished again.
She stood and dusted off her jeans. The animals all quieted again. Huh.
Clark shut the door when she came out. "Why did your mother think you were going to cause trouble?"
A sheepish smile touched his lips. "Because Annabelle usually chases people. I knew she'd like you, though." Then he pointed toward a tall tractor across the dirt drive and started walking at a leisurely pace.
"Why do the animals make a fuss when you come?" She fell into step with him.
He shrugged. "They can tell an alien, I guess. Mom says animals have never liked me. Well, except for the stray dog who found me wandering the corn fields when I was a toddler. Mom made Dad keep him. I was nine when he died. No other animal has ever wanted to be around me." The facade of indifference didn't run deep enough.
How terribly sad to lose a dog as a child and never have another little best friend ever again. "Could he have come on that vessel with you?"
"No," he sighed, "it was only large enough to fit me." Sadness crept into his voice, as if he still missed his dog.
She linked her arm through his. "Maybe a puppy wouldn't react and then grow up used to you. Perhaps your scent is a little different..."
A shake of his head cut off her words. "My parents tried after Jack died. I cried for weeks, and every puppy they brought home would scream this horrible sound and run when I'd come near. They finally stopped trying after the fifth puppy."
It was so sad. Tears stung. "What happened with the fifth one?"
His throat convulsed in a hard swallow, although his eyes remained ahead. "I'd started to get stronger by then and put it together with the animals' reactions to realize there was something different about me. I locked myself in my room and barricaded the door with all the furniture after the fifth puppy. That's when I learned I didn't need to eat."
Her stomach clenched. "You didn't eat? Weren't your parents beside themselves?"
He nodded. "Three days without food and water. Dad finally called the fire department. They used the ladder to get up to the window that I'd barricaded with the bed. I think Dad was in such a panic that he started chopping through it with an axe. He wouldn't let any firemen in because he was afraid they'd start asking how a child had moved solid wood furniture." He reached the tractor and pushed it aside like it weighed as much as a feather. "I expected him to tan my hide for the first time in my life, but he hugged me and cried. It's the only time I've seen him cry, which I think got to me more than any tanning would've." He dusted off a giant trap door that blended into the dirt. "It was easier not having Jack after that because I realized my parents didn't care if I was a freak or not."
"Clark, don't say such things. The people who matter don't think you're a freak." It hurt to hear him speak that way of himself again.
The man dusted off his hands and reached down. "We'll see what you think after seeing a spaceship." He cracked a smile and lifted the huge door.
She leaned forward and looked down into the dark hole.
"Come." He held out his hand, still holding the door up with the other hand. "There are stairs over here and a light switch on the left."
Taking his hand, she felt the way down two steps and then reached to where he pointed.
Lights flipped on, illuminating a stone staircase. She took his arm when he came down, letting the door fall shut.
"You know, this is the part in scary movies when everyone screams at the girl to not go with him and get murdered." A nervous laugh escaped as she hesitated at a wide, black mouth to another room. "If I didn't trust you, I'd be terrified."
He chuckled. "You already are. I hear your heart pounding. There's a light switch right in this room. I won't let anything happen to you." His hand ran over hers on his arm, and he reached around the entryway.
The room lit up.
It looked like a ten-foot silver bullet sitting no more than three feet tall in the middle of the stone-lined room.
With a frown, she let go of his arm and stepped closer. "This? It doesn't seem anything like a spaceship. Well, what I imagine it'd look like. Does it open?"
When he set a hand on the side, the top half rolled open like a rolling desk. It glowed a vibrant blue inside, with a small plush area that had straps like a car seat. He reached in and set his fingers against the end. The seat expanded. "Our best guess is it was pressure sensitive to accommodate growth. Dr. Klein thinks I was put in as an infant and got out a year or two later."
Her eyes widened. "How would you have survived? Wouldn't you have at least run out of air?"
He pointed to a long tube that came out of the side wall. Then he pointed to his a spot on his neck, just above his collarbone. "He thinks it was a type of life support."
A circular scar matched the size of the tube.
"You have a scar? How?" Without even thinking, she touched the mark. "Why would someone put a tube in a baby's neck?"
"The best guess is if I am from another planet, the atmosphere is such that I was vulnerable to injury. Hence, the scar. My parents thought it was some twisted maniac who had put me in this, but then I started getting stronger and had more capabilities show up as a teenager. Dr. Klein collected space matter from this. His theory is it took this vessel almost two years to travel through space to reach Earth."
It dawned that her fingers still rested on his neck. Pulling her hand free, she looked at the vessle. "May I touch it?"
"Don't touch the inside, because there are probably more tubes and such, we just can't get it to turn on to know where. I don't want you to get hurt."
She turned to him and frowned. "More?"
He lifted his t-shirt and pointed to his belly button. It masked a scar the radius of an adult finger.
Drawing a deep breath to keep the bile from rising, she grabbed his arm as the room swayed.
"Lois?" He caught her elbow.
It was sick and twisted. Who knew if he'd even been given any anesthetic or screamed in pain as a little baby being tortured. "Why would anyone do such a thing to a baby?"
"Deep breaths. I'm fine, so there's no need to pass out. Dr. Klein thinks I needed food and water in this vessel, and these were a means by which to provide them."
"Why even put a baby in such a thing?" she hissed, the anger replacing nausea. "It's a damn wonder you didn't suffocate or get muscle atrophy or rip out tubes and hemorrhage!" The words rose to a shout.
"Lois, Lois, calm down." He held her shoulders. "It happened a long time ago, and it all worked out. There's no need to go start a galactic war." The man cracked a smile.
"It's barbaric and disgusting!" She jerked away from him and bumped the vessel.
The tip fell off, revealing a small compartment. A green crystal glowed.
"What is it?" She leaned closer.
"That's never come off. The front is lined in lead." Something in his voice sounded odd.
She glanced over.
He paled and his eyes lost focus.
"Clark?" She stood and held his arm as he started to sway and held his head. "Clark, sit down."
"Lois..." The word came out weak, and a gasp of complete agony tore from his throat. He collapsed in an unconscious heap, his weight too much to hold. His head hit the doorframe, and blood began to drip onto the floor.
"Clark! Clark!" Shaking didn't rouse him. The pulse at his throat grew weaker.
Running up the steps, the trap door was far too heavy to budge even throwing her shoulder into it. "Jonathan! Martha!" Screaming wouldn't be heard this far from the house. She ran down the steps and dropped to her knees beside him.
His breathing fell into a sporadic rhythm, and the pool of blood blossomed bigger.
"Dammit, Clark," she whimpered, "now is not the time to become mortal when we aren't near the sun." The sun. The sun's glow made him stronger. Her eyes flew to the crystal. Maybe that glow made him weaker.
Scrambling for the cover, shoving and twisting wouldn't latch it back in place. Holding it on as tight as possible might be enough to wake him up.
The wheezing stopped within seconds.
"Clark! Clark, you gotta wake up!"
His chest rose and fell in a normal rhythm.
"Clark!"
His eyelids fluttered open, a dazed, weak look in his eyes.
"Clark, you have to get out."
He pushed himself up, struggling to get to his hands and knees. "Don't. It might be radiation," he panted and held out his hand to her.
"I'm tolerating it a lot better than you. Get up the stairs."
Blood kept running down his face from the gash in his temple. He grabbed the edge of a wall brick and tried to pull himself up, but he collapsed onto his knees. "I can't. Lois, go."
"I can't lift the door, and your parents couldn't hear me. You have to so we both can get out." He was losing too much blood too fast. Her teeth chomped down on her lip. A sharp pang and the metallic taste of blood. Wiping a finger over the cut, she held out a bloody finger near him.
A sharp inhalation and his eyes narrowed. His muscles didn't bulge and color didn't improve, but he climbed to his feet and stumbled up the steps. He shoved and heaved his back against the door, but it hardly budged. Then he got it open a crack and fit his hand out into the sun.
It must've been enough because he shoved the door just enough, but his body visibly shook under the weight. "Lois," he gasped, fighting to keep it open.
"Get in the sun and come back for me. If I let go of this, you won't be able to hold the door."
He hesitated.
"This is not the time for some kind of moral struggle! If it is radioactive, we'll get out faster if you can open the door."
He climbed out, and the door slammed down.
Dropping the cover, she ran up the stairs and waited.
The crystal started humming.
Oh god, that couldn't be good. "Clark!" She pushed on the door.
It lifted and she was suddenly standing on the porch with him.
"Are you hurt?" He didn't even wait for a response before he turned her around.
"I don't need x-rays!"
"No, I'm looking for traces of radioactivity. Come, we're going to Dr. Klein to make sure you're alright."
The world lurched and her feet touched the ground. Nausea hit with just enough time to lean over and get sick.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." A hand rested on her back, and her hair lifted. A cold breeze brushed the back of her neck.
Straightening only made her knees buckle as the world dipped.
He eased her down, the cool grass a wonderful balm against the nausea.
"I'm sorry. I was in such a panic to get here, I didn't think about it that you can't go that fast." His fingers laid against the pulse at her neck.
"Where's here?"
"Dr. Klein's." Worry knit his brow as he stroked her hair.
"You're the one who went unconscious, bled, and lost your strength, but I'm the one who needs a doctor?"
"I'm back to normal. You can't heal like I can."
"I see nothing wrong with her. You, on the other hand," Dr. Klein said and took out a syringe, "aren't back to normal." He easily drew blood from Clark and went to the microscope.
She stepped up to the exam table and brushed aside Clark's hair at his temple. "The cut looks days old, but it doesn't look any different than an hour ago."
"Are you fretting?" He smiled and pulled her around to stand between his knees.
"No, country boy, I thoroughly enjoyed watching you almost die." She rolled her eyes and pulled away.
Except he caught her hand and pulled her closer to whisper, "I like you sassy, city girl."
A blush crept up despite the haughty glare. "What is it with men and convalescing turning them into flirts?"
"Makes us feel more manly when we're weak," Dr. Klein said absently and came back over. "Go in the sun again for ten minutes." Then he turned to her. "Can you bring me some of that crystal?"
"I don't think so." He hopped off the table, causing the floor to tremble but not crack. "We have no idea if it'll hurt her."
Dr. Klein looked from the floor to her. "Ms. Lane, I need a blood sample from you too." He gave a pointed look.
The doctor thought Clark's reaction to her blood would speed up his recovery. She nodded.
"Why do you need to stick her? You said she's fine." Goodness, Clark sounded ornery.
"Just to be sure." The doctor came over and showed a note.
It's filled with blood thinner so it'll look like I'm taking much more blood. Don't want him leaving when his skin is still vulnerable, on the chance he'd deteriorate with delayed exposure.
With a slight nod, she gave over her arm.
Clark hovered, not seeming to notice Dr. Klein pressing the vein to slow the bleeding. Goodness, the blood thinner in the tube connecting to the vials certainly made it look like a lot. By the fifth tube, Clark stopped pacing and looked over her shoulder, his tension growing palpable.
"You're going to bleed her dry. That's enough," he growled.
"She's fine." He glanced at her when Clark started pacing again. Two tubes, he mouthed.
Huh. It certainly looked like more than that.
This didn't seem to be causing Clark any kind of reaction besides agitation. She popped the top off two tubes.
Clark's nose twitched and he halted mid-step.
Dr. Klein smiled and popped the tops off the other four tubes.
His head turned toward her, his eyes dilated. "You have enough." He stalked closer. He looked slightly dangerous. Maybe this wasn't a good idea, for Dr. Klein's sake.
"Almost done." Dr. Klein reached for another vial.
She suddenly stood behind Clark, with the needle gone from her arm, and several feet away from the exam table. Clark's back muscles coiled through his shirt.
"You do not harm her to get a damn reaction out of me," he hissed and turned around. His touch was hard as rock and his eyes still completely black, but his fingers brushed her jaw with the lightest caress. "Did he take too much?"
She shook her head. "I feel fine."
Then his gaze dropped to the crook of her arm where a drop of blood crept down. A small gust of wind tore through the room. A gauze appeared in his hand, and he set it over the wound and held it on with one finger. His eyes lifted to hers, the beautiful blue in his eyes more visible than a minute ago. "Too hard?" A huskiness deepened his voice.
The fact that he was incredibly strong right now but being so very, very gentle melted her heart. "No. Thank you." She took over holding the gauze.
His eyebrow cocked. "You aren't to go along with a stunt like that again."
A guilty flush crept up. "There's no harm in helping push you along to returning to normal." Laying a hand on his arm, she frowned. He felt like a normal human again. "It was just a temporary fix," she breathed in disbelief. "Do you feel alright?"
"Aside from a little weak, I feel fine."
Dr. Klein surveyed him up and down. "Pick up my solid wood desk."
Clark walked across the room and picked it up, but he struggled. When he set it down, he stumbled and sank into the chair while holding his head.
She hurried over and knelt before him. "Does your head hurt?"
"No, I think I got dizzy. The room started to spin." His eyes opened and slowly came into focus on her.
Oh goodness, he didn't even know what it felt like to be ill. "Yeah, that's dizzy." She felt his forehead. "He feels a bit cold." Looking over her shoulder to Dr. Klein, he approached with a blood pressure cuff.
"He normally runs forty over twenty." Dr. Klein slid the cuff over Clark's bicep.
Her eyebrows shot up. "That's practically dead."
"For you or I. With two hearts, he can sustain a low blood pressure." The doctor frowned as he pumped the cuff and took a reading. "No wonder why you're dizzy. You're running twenty-one over eleven."
She looked up at the doctor. "Does that mean he's having cardiac trouble?"
"Well, I'm going to assume he responds the same way we would. I'm reluctant to try drugs because physiologically he may not respond how we would—"
"Lois," Clark said weakly and swallowed several times, his breathing growing heavy, "it feels like something is here." He patted the base of his throat.
"I think you're nauseous. Here, lie on the floor. Sitting up can make it worse."
But Dr. Klein shoved a basin at Clark just in time.
His stomach seemed to calm, but his color kept fading. A drugged look dulled his eyes, and he began to slump.
"Clark?" Grabbing his arm so he wouldn't fall off the chair, her eyes darted to the doctor.
"Clark? Can you hear me?" He grabbed a stethoscope and listened to Clark's chest as Clark's eyes began to roll back. "His second heart stopped."
"What?!" It took every fiber of strength to help Dr. Klein lower Clark onto the floor.
"As long as his other heart keeps going, we can get it started up again. Cut his shirt open." He ran across the room and grabbed a machine.
Snatching scissors from the pen holder on the desk, she cut his t-shirt at the neck and then ripped it open. "Do I do CPR?"
"No, you'll send his other heart into arrhythmia." Dr. Klein dropped to his knees and set an AED machine down. "You feel his pulse and count out loud. We have to shock his other heart at just the right moment."
She set her fingers to his neck. Panic set in not feeling a pulse. "I can't." This wasn't real. He was fine and talking a minute ago. It just seemed like he stopped breathing, he wasn't dead. He had to be alright...he had to be.
Dr. Klein dropped the paddle and felt it himself. "Both hearts stopped. What the hell is going on?" He charged up the AED. "Clear!"
The shock visibly traveled over his chest and sparked at his chest, neck and face—the exact spots she'd touched.
"Starting CPR!" Dr. Klein rose onto his knees.
"A magnet! Get a magnet! Some of the crystal somehow got on me, and it's congregating where I touched him. A magnet might pull it off."
He scrambled up and ran to a contraption on a cart that he pushed over. "It creates a magnetic field for gases." The man hit a button.
Strange particles trembled over Clark's chest and clustered into tiny specs before flying to the magnet. Pieces gathered on her palms and then shot off in tiny balls to the magnet, causing raw stinging and leaving behind tiny blood blisters.
Clark suddenly sucked in air.