Chapter 35: Hiketeia

Metropolis, Metropolis University Medical Center

With a passion that bordered on irrationality, Diana hated hospitals. She disliked the bright lights and shiny floors that gave the false impression of lightheartedness and safety. She abhorred the sound of machines and sirens that heralded either a saved life or a lost soul. She loathed the smell of disinfectants and sanitizers that put one in the mind of cleanliness and sterility, an olfactory distraction that covered the malignant scents of blood, urine, and feces. Most of all, Diana despised the feel of the place, auras of uncertainty, fear, and helplessness comingling into a migraine of the heart.

Put simply, Diana wished she were any place other than where panic and pain had driven her. Yet where else would she be when the one man who held her heart was here? In the place that reminded her of her worst nightmare.

"Please sit down, Lois. You've been pacing for the better part of two hours. Clark will be in surgery for at least another one."

Lois, whose high heels clicked every time she walked, spun to face her former mother-in-law, eyes large, tired, and still wet from the last time she'd run to the bathroom for a quiet, private moment.

"I can't just sit there like the three of you. I have to do something."

"And what is it you think you can do by walking back and forth? This family waiting room is comfortable and surprisingly large, but it is just a room, Lois. Besides," Martha said, rubbing one hand over her own tired eyes, "the clacking of your heels is beginning to grate. No offense, but please sit down and be still."

Lois gave a little huff at the uncharacteristic chastisement from Martha Kent and sat.

Diana understood the woman's desire to not sit still, the need to do something. It took everything in Diana to keep her own tense form rooted to the chair. But, unlike Lois Lane, Diana's stillness did not mean she was doing nothing about the situation. True, Diana, like them all in the room, was powerless to control anything that was going on in the operating room. But that still left plenty Diana did have power over, could most definitely do.

Her hand settled over her stomach, the pain from four hours ago still there. A throbbing ache that hadn't diminished since it had first come upon her, nor when she'd received the frantic call from Martha Kent, and not even when her pilot safely landed her and her guards on the hospital's helipad.

Yet the discomfort in her abdomen paled in comparison to the pain in her heart. An agony of the soul she dared not give voice or action to. A hurt she knew too well, made all the more vicious for the guilt attached to the unforgiving sensation.

She had made a terrible miscalculation and Clark had paid the price. Diana had been a fool, giving in to a dream long ago deferred, a happily-ever-after ending that only a naïve girl would latch her romantic hopes to. But that seashell of a dream, the one Clark had so painstakingly excavated, locating it under tons of hard sand and even harsher water, carefully washing it off until it gleaned as fresh and bright as the morning sun over a calm, windless ocean.

But there is nothing calm or windless about my ocean, my life. And now I've caused Clark to be swept into its torrent, roughly handled and left for dead.

The thought brought a new rush of stomach cramps. Closing her eyes, Diana absorbed the pain, knowing Clark had suffered far worse this morning.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder. "Are you all right, dear?"

Diana opened her eyes then turned to face Martha Wayne. By the time Diana had ordered the plane to be fueled and the pilot placed on stand-by, Martha was at Wayne Industries, summer hat on head, purse in hand, and face set in determined lines. And Diana knew better than to argue with a Wayne. It rarely did any good. Besides, Martha Kent would need a friend to get through almost losing her son. And who better to console her than a woman who had lost her own son, the parallel far too close for any of their liking.

"You've been awfully quiet."

"I've been thinking; that's all, Mom."

Martha's eyes became shrewd. "Do I want to know what you've been thinking about?"

"No."

"Will you tell me if I ask?"

"No."

"Would I like it if I knew?"

"Probably not."

"Would Hippolyta?"

Done with the circular interrogation, Diana stood. "I'll take care of this."

"What does that mean?"

Leaning down, Diana kissed Martha on the cheek and spoke softly, much softer than the harsh reality warranted. "It means exactly that, Mom. I'm going to take care of this, end it once and for all. The way I should have done years ago."

"Don't do anything foolish because of what happened to Clark."

"I won't be foolish. I promise."

No, Diana was done being made the fool, done being the only one playing by the rules. The attack on Clark in his home was the line drawn in the sand. The last line her enemies would ever draw. Now it would be Diana's turn and she wasn't going to waste time drawing pointless lines. Well, if Luthor and Ghul wanted a war, now they would have one. But her way, on Diana's terms, because there was no doubt in her mind that one of those villains had orchestrated Clark's brutal attack. His attempted murder.

But she would soon know for sure. And when she did . . .

"Does part of you taking care of things have anything to do with those WWF size men showing up at my office and forcing me to go with them?"

Lois had risen; her suspicious eyes all for Diana.

Diana really wanted to ignore the much shorter woman, which was difficult to do since they shared the same space. But, yes, Diana had given her men orders to pick up Lois, C.J., and Martha Kent. She didn't want them learning of Clark's attack from a police officer who didn't know them and was only doing his job. And Lois had wisely decided to not tell her son until Clark was out of surgery and stable. Helena Bertinelli, one of Diana's Furies, along with Jimmy Olsen, were playing babysitters at Martha's home, taking care of C.J.

"Yes, and you and C.J. will stay at Martha's where my men can guard you."

Lois's hands fluttered to her hips, her stance defensive. "Just because you're some big shot tycoon and Clark's girlfriend, that doesn't give you any power over me or my son. When I leave here, I plan to pick up C.J. and take him home with me."

Lois had every right to make decisions for herself and her son, and to take umbrage with Diana's bulldozing of the entire situation. But the woman was way out of her depth, and Diana's patience was running abysmally low.

"My mother-in-law will explain to you what I neither have the patience nor the inclination to do. She will do a much better job than I would because I left all my tact in my office when I literally felt Clark's attack."

Stunned, Lois's hands dropped to her sides. "You what?"

"Mom will explain, in that steel wrapped in silk way of hers, that I'm leaving you no choice, that all the Kents are now under my protection, and that you can rant and rave until you're blue in the face, but I will not be moved on this. She will smile and pat your shoulder and say all the right things because that is who she is. But, in the end, she will tell you that the people behind Clark's attack have just become my china shop and I'm the raging bull."

For once, Lois said nothing, just stared, wide-eyed, at Diana as if she were seeing her for the first time. It wasn't a pretty sight, looking into her eyes and having Lois stare back as if the Devil himself was present and in full wrath mode. Then again, Diana's feelings weren't too far from that of wrath. A deadly sin. Luthor has opened his own Pandora's box and now he will suffer.

A line in Clark's book came to Diana's mind. "Find a place inside where there's joy, and the joy will burn out the pain." Profound words from a man who had survived his own journey to then nearly die because Diana had yet to fulfill her own. And how could Diana apply such wisdom when Clark Kent was the joy that dwelled within her? My light that came perilously close to being extinguished.

Clark's mother stood, stepped between Diana and Lois and hugged her—tender and soothing. She smelled of vanilla, goodness, and distress.

And Diana knew this lovingly peaceful woman had the power to bring Diana to her knees, to recall the fury within, to douse the flame that burned silent but bright.

"Don't," Diana pleaded in a small voice. "Not now, Martha. Don't do this to me now."

But the older woman didn't stop. She just kept hugging Diana the way Clark always did when she was being too cold for reason, too distant for words to reach.

"Someone has to."

"P-please, don't. I need it." Diana hated the tremor she detected in her voice, the crack that was Martha's unconditional love slowly, defiantly breaking through.

"No you don't."

Silence.

Then.

"Yes she does, Martha."

Martha Wayne came up behind Clark's mother and gently encouraged her to release Diana.

With reluctance, she did.

"For now, Diana needs her battle armor. To ask her to lay it down is asking her to unsheathe her heart, making her vulnerable when we all are in most need of her strength, her courage."

"I don't want to lose her to vengeance."

Mom embraced Martha, giving her the hug Diana couldn't return, lest she break down in tears the way Martha and Lois had done earlier. Tears had never done Diana any good; yet she had shed more than her share. But I haven't cried for Clark. Not a single tear.

"Neither do I. But if we weaken her by our love, our concern, we'll prevent her from finding her own answers. Only she can unlock the mystery of self, and if she doesn't do it now, I fear she never will. Then we would have truly lost her. Remember, Martha, death leaves a heartache no one can heal, but it is love that leaves a memory no one can steal."

Seeing her chance for escape, Diana slipped from the room, only to run into the detective she'd met when she'd first arrived.

"Dr. Wayne."

"Detective Jones."

"I was just coming to speak with Mrs. Wayne."

"Not now."

Detective John Jones of the Metropolis Police Department arched one eyebrow when Diana shifted, placing herself squarely between him and the family waiting room.

He frowned.

Jones seemed to do that every time they spoke, perhaps because he had yet to realize he was not in control of the Clark Kent case. Sure, Detective Jones had a badge, a shiny gold one he wore at his waist, and he even had official authority in the city, but that still didn't mean this was his case. No, it was most definitely not his case. It's mine.

"You said that thirty minutes ago, Dr. Wayne. Other than Mr. Kent, who is currently unavailable for questioning, Mrs. Wayne is the only witness to the crime."

Martha was barely a witness. True, she'd been on the phone when Clark had heard someone in his home. And, yes, she was the one to call the Metropolis police, but that hardly made her a witness of significance. No, those would be the two patrol officers who'd responded to the emergency call, finding an unconscious and barely breathing Clark and an unconscious masked man with a broken nose and other contusions.

"My mother-in-law is with Mrs. Kent. I'm sure she will make herself available to answer your questions, detective, once we all know Mr. Kent is safely out of surgery and on the mend. Until then, you will have to settle for me."

The detective's frown deepened.

"Just because you're good friends with the Police Commissioner and the Chief of Police, doesn't mean I won't arrest you for obstruction of justice. I will have my questions answered."

"Of course you will, detective, just not now. Do you have no respect for the man's mother? It isn't as if you don't already have a suspect in custody. If I'm not mistaken," and she knew she wasn't, "said suspect is in this very hospital, having his injuries tended to, a police officer outside his door to make sure he doesn't escape. Maybe you should begin your investigation with him."

"I'm not a man who can be handled, Dr. Wayne."

Of course he was, the detective having followed Diana when she purposefully made her way away from the room as they spoke. Now, they were standing in front of a nurse's station.

"I'm only asking for time, which, considering you have the man who stabbed Mr. Kent in custody, you have it to spare. Mrs. Wayne will remain with Mrs. Kent in Metropolis for the foreseeable future. I will personally arrange an interview with her. But not now, Detective Jones."

"You're trying to handle me again."

"No, detective, I only handle matters of business not people."

Detective Jones snorted then looked back at the family waiting room several feet away. "I don't see the difference."

Ah, smart man, probably a very good detective, too. If Diana didn't have quicker and more effective methods of learning the truth, and if Clark weren't the case, she would have no doubt believing Detective Jones would solve any case set before him. But time was of the essence and the case did involve Clark, so no, Jones and his by-the-book procedures simply would not do.

"The difference is in degrees, detective."

Over his shoulder, Diana noticed Clarks' surgeon turn the corner and begin to make his way down the hall. The pain, which she'd been managing as much as the detective, increased, turning her insides into tight coils.

The doctor stopped when he saw Diana and the detective.

Forcing herself to speak beyond the pain, Diana said, "Everyone is in the waiting room." She pointed to the room across the hall. "Please, I would like us all to hear the news at the same time."

A minute later, the doctor was explaining the operation to Diana and the Kents, with Detective Jones also listening in.

According to the doctor, Clark had lost a lot of blood, but no damage had been done to any organs and he was, in time, expected to make a full recovery. For now though, the wounds had been closed, his deep stomach wound however, having required sutures above and below the skin. That bit of news had everyone, except the experienced detective, wincing.

"Mr. Kent will be transported to his recovery room shortly." The doctor looked to Diana. "He'll be placed where you requested. I believe your men are already in place."

"Thank you."

He nodded. "Always a pleasure to return a favor to a woman who's given so much to this hospital. Your donations, Dr. Wayne, have saved lives as well as jobs. Please, let me know if there is anything else you need."

"Thank you."

More thanks of appreciation followed before the surgeon announced he had to prep for another surgery. Martha hugged him, tears of gratified relief in her eyes.

"I'll take you all to Clark's room. He'll still be out of it for a while, but at least Martha and Lois will have a chance to see him." Diana reached into her small purse and pulled out a business card. She gave it to the detective. "Call me tomorrow and I'll have a time and place arranged where you will be able to interview Mrs. Wayne."

Opening the door, Diana ushered the other three women out.

"Still handling, Dr. Wayne."

Without turning, she admitted, "Yes, Detective Jones, that's what I do. See you tomorrow."

Two hours later, Diana had convinced the mothers and Lois to allow Manny to escort them to Martha's house. Helena was still there, and by this time, so would three Wayne Security bodyguards, as capable and imposing as Manny. And there they would remain until Diana gave them other orders.

"Sam, would you please guard the door?" Samuel Winters, Diana's guard whenever she stayed late at Wayne Industries, which was most nights, looked first to her then to the morbidly still man in the bed.

"If you don't mind me saying so, Dr. Wayne, I heard Mr. Kent put up one helluva fight. If that coward hadn't had a knife, I'm sure Mr. Kent would've done more than break the punk's nose and blackened his eyes."

Yes, Clark had put up one hell of a fight. If he hadn't, he would be dead, she knew. They all knew. But Clark Kent was a survivor, an honorable warrior in a world of dishonorable brawlers.

"No, Sam, I don't mind you saying so."

Sam still stared at Clark, with a respect she'd never seen in his eyes before.

"This is bigger than the guy who attacked him, right?"

"Yes."

Sam lifted his eyes to Diana then cracked his knuckles. "Whatever you have planned for taking out the trash, count me and Manny in."

Loyalty and trust.

"I'll remember that. For now, I need you to guard the door until Manny returns."

And when he did, Sam would return, guarding Clark the way he should have been guarded earlier. She would get to the bottom of that too.

"On it."

Sam left, leaving Diana alone with Clark.

She hadn't seen him when he'd first been wheeled into the room, choosing to give Martha and Lois time with him. Not that Martha would have mind Diana's presence, in fact, she nearly dragged her into the room. But Diana wasn't yet ready to see her strong man down; too afraid her heart couldn't absorb more sorrow.

And now, as she gazed upon his bruised, slumbering form, bile laced anger stirred within. Thick gauze covered one forearm, as well as a shoulder. He was pale, except for where he was swollen and black and blue from obvious punches to his face.

Every atom in Diana cried out at seeing him that way, although she knew it could have been far worse. He hadn't died, and for that she was eternally grateful, but it had been a near thing. But it will never happen again.

Going to him, but afraid to touch for fear of causing him harm, not knowing what bruises his white and blue hospital gown covered, Diana stood beside Clark's bed and began to speak as if he were awake.

"Ancient Greeks observed a custom called Hiketeia, in which one person supplicated themselves to another in exchange for protection. The supplication does not have to be accepted once offered, but when it is accepted both parties agree to take the contract very seriously."

She raised her hand and held it above his heart, still not daring to touch. "I recite the offer for you Clark, because you cannot do so yourself. I will be your guardian and you my supplicant, just as you've been my guardian and I your supplicant when you offered me your love."

Diana's stomach still ached but not nearly as much as seeing Clark so badly hurt, and knowing she was to blame.

"Diana Prince," she said deliberately, because it was Diana Prince not Diana Wayne who would accept the guardianship, "I am Clark Kent. I offer myself in supplication to you. I come without protection. I come with only a pure heart and free mind, and ask for your protection. With all my heart, with everything I can offer, I beg you, in Zeus' name, who watches over all supplicants, accept my plea."

Lowering her hand, Diana nodded at Clark as if he had indeed asked for her protection, in the way of the ancient Greeks. It was an outdated custom but right now, today, it made an odd kind of sense to Diana.

"I accept your offer. I will be your protector, your guardian. You have my most humble vow."

With one last look, Diana exited Clark's room, only to see her general walking towards her.

"We need to talk, Phillipus. Are the others in Metropolis?"

"All except Barda, but she'll be here soon."

"Good, now tell me all you've learned about Solomon Grundy, the man who was stupid enough to go after my Clark."

TO BE CONTINUED