Title: Unborn (Part 5)
Series: Lois & Clark
Author: Singing Violin
Rating: K+
Summary: After the honeymoon and before the series finale, Clark makes a choice that isn't really his to make.
Disclaimer: They're not mine, but sure have they been used a lot! I'd like to get in on the game, though of course, not for profit, because then it'd be illegal!
Feedback: Please, and yes I understand it's a touchy subject. Otherwise it wouldn't be interesting to write about.
Archiving: Anywhere.

...CONTINUED FROM PART 4

Superman landed in the parking lot of the emergency room and quickly spun into Clark clothes. Slipping his glasses onto his nose, he took a deep breath in preparation to face the most frightening thing he'd ever had to encounter…his injured wife. Injured by his own hand.

He entered through the sliding doors and approached the reception counter. "Hi, I'm Clark Kent. My wife…Superman said he brought her in here. Lois Lane."

The receptionist nodded. "Mr. Kent, I will need you to sign some forms okay?" she prompted, shoving a pen and paperwork towards him across the desk.

"Uh, okay…" he stammered, annoyed at the delay. His minutes with Lois might be numbered, and they were having him waste them dealing with red tape. He sighed, and took the paperwork to a dark corner of the waiting room, where he filled it out at super-speed, hoping nobody was looking.

When he returned to the counter, the receptionist looked questioningly at him. He knew it was risky to arouse suspicion, but he was impatient, and luckily she was busy enough to forget his speedy paperwork moments after he handed it in. "Right this way," she offered, leading him down the hallway and to a set of double doors, which she opened with her pass. "She's in bed number twelve, up ahead and to the right."

"Thank you," Clark nodded, and hurried through the doors.

Clark parted the curtains cautiously, trying to enter quietly, but his wife was not asleep. Tear tracks marked her face as she stared at the wall. She didn't acknowledge his presence. It was worse than he thought.

He sat down on the side of the bed and put a hand on her shoulder. "Lois?" he queried, softly. She didn't answer. "Honey?" Still no response, except for a lone tear which escaped from her eye and rolled down her nose. His heart broke to see her like this.

"Lois, please talk to me," he begged. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay as long as you need."

Finally, she rolled over to face him. Still not speaking, she studied him with her eyes. Another tear rolled down her nose, and he reached towards her to brush it away. His hand lingered on the side of her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. "Lois," he pleaded, "tell me what I can do."

She bit her lip, and then, in the smallest voice he'd ever heard come out of her mouth - even with his superhearing he had to strain to make it out - she whispered, "hold me."

Instantly, he reached out and pulled her to him, and stroked her back as her silent tears soaked his suit jacket. He felt as if a chunk of kryptonite was lodged in his stomach. She was in so much pain, and it was his fault, and he couldn't take it away.

He held her for what seemed like an eternity, until finally he realized she was asleep. Gently, he eased her back onto the bed and let her go, but at the instant when he was no longer touching her, she moaned.

Sighing, he removed his shoes and climbed into the bed with her. She nestled into his arms, finally at some semblance of peace. He suspected she hadn't slept until he'd gotten back, and he wished he could fall asleep too…ordinarily this would be the position he'd most like to be in. Unfortunately, his mind was racing and his unease would not be relieved. He stared at the ceiling and contemplated how he was going to break it to his wife that the worst thing that had ever happened to her was his fault.

TO BE CONTINUED…