Chapter 12 [Christmas 2018]
[Kent Farm]
As the storm outside picked up in intensity, Martha sat in front of the television searching desperately for updates. Normally she would've been over the stove cooking up a storm for Clark and herself. She'd be opening the gifts that sat forlornly under the false Balsam fir across the room.
Not this year…..
She knew of the battle. Oh yes. She heard that Clark, as Superman, had diverted two of his greatest adversaries away from a crowded shopping center in downtown Metropolis.
The television cameras had carried the fight's viciousness back to the audience. However they lost track of the action after it had gone underground.
Clark, where are you? She'd frantically tried his cell phone only to hear the unwelcome out of service message droning in her ear. Her inborn maternal instincts kicked in knowing that he was in trouble. Please don't get yourself killed!
That may have happened this time, Mom.
Her ears perked up. The hairs on the back of her neck rose. She glanced around the room feeling for some reason that she wasn't alone. "Who's there?"
Lana appeared in the corner. She floated above the floor in her white robes. She glanced serenely at the elderly woman. I'm sorry that I startled you. I have news about Clark.
"Lana? You're dead. How?" Martha dropped the mug of tea next to her on the TV tray letting it shatter in a puddle on the wooden floorboards.
Yes. I have returned to help you in this matter. Clark is badly hurt. He's at Lex's old mansion here in town. He needs you. Please go to him. I'm sorry I can't stay longer. With that Lana disappeared once again.
She sat stock still wondering if she was losing her mind. She'd just received the answers she needed. She didn't know what to think.
Yet nobody else knew where Clark was….
Better to lose fifteen minutes and find out than just fret here. Storm or not, here I come. Clark, hang in there, Sweetie. She grabbed for her coat and truck keys before heading out into the storm.
[Luthor Mansion—twenty minutes later]
Despite the storm, Martha made good time across the slickening roads and through the deepening gloom. Several times she nearly careened off course and into a ditch. She skated the wheels through several hairpin turns and over narrow bridges.
Still she would not be deterred from her son's side…not on this day….
After what seemed like an eternity, she coasted to a halt in front of Lex's front gate. She really didn't want to deal with his lackeys or security checks. She did want to see Clark however. She tapped on the horn to announce her presence.
On cue, a tall and well-built man emerged from the gatehouse to her left. His boots sloshed through the icy mess underfoot toward her window. As she lowered her window, he queried robotically, "Yes?"
"Good afternoon, I need to see Lex Luthor. It's an urgent matter," she explained.
"Mr. Luthor's tied up with a friend. He's left instructions not to be disturbed," he declined.
"Please tell him that Martha Kent is here. If he is still tied up, I'll understand. But please tell him," she insisted allowing a bit of the desperation inside of her to seep to the surface.
Perhaps it was something in her eyes…or in her voice. He remembered the name from somewhere. He heard a quality which moved him. "Just a minute." He produced a cell phone and dialed it.
"Lex Luthor. Why are you disturbing me, Robbins?" Lex queried tersely.
"Mr. Luthor, I'm sorry. We have a visitor. Martha Kent wants to see you. Does that mean anything?" Robbins wondered.
And now his mother shows up at my gates? How did she hear? "Yes. Allow her to pass. I'll have Nichols greet her at the front door. Thank you." With that Lex disconnected the line.
Robbins put the phone back in his pocket. "Mr. Luthor will see you, Ma 'am. Please pass through the gate and drive straight up to the house. The butler will greet you at the door."
"Thank you," Martha expressed as the gates opened all too slowly. As soon as she had room to pass, she drove as fast as she dared toward the transplanted stone fortress. When she'd reached the front, she stopped the truck and jumped out. She hustled fearfully toward the door and rapped on it urgently.
The oak barrier slowly creaked open to reveal an elderly slender man in grey formal wear and a white shirt standing there stiffly. "Good afternoon, Madam. You are Mrs. Kent, correct?"
"Yes indeed. Forgive me for being rude but I do need to see Lex," she pressed.
"No apologies needed. Just let me get your coat. The master is waiting for you in the library," Nichols noted. He helped her off with her coat and hung it in the main closet. "Follow me please."
Even though she knew the way well enough on her own, she politely followed him up the poshly carpeted staircase and down the ornately decorated marble and teak hall. Her heart pounded in agony and desperation. This activity only increased with each passing footfall.
When they reached the library, Nichols opened the door and bowed his head to her courteously. "I will be back with coffee in a few minutes. How do you take yours?"
"With cream and two sugars, I guess. Thank you, Mr…."
"Nichols, Ma 'am. Thank you." With that he departed back down the hall.
Nice to see some things don't change. She shook her head knowing that Jonathan would've disapproved of the display going on around her. He wouldn't have played the games especially when their son was more than likely hurt somewhere. She pushed the door open and walked into the library.
As she remembered, the windows allowed a large amount of light into the room. A large portrait of Lillian still graced the wall to her right. The fireplace blazed and crackled with its latest offering to heat the area. The desk was exactly the same as she remembered….
…and so was the bald man striding toward her in a purple dress shirt and charcoal slacks….
"Lex, it's been a while," she expressed evenly. Maybe she felt disconcerted or even angered by the presence of her son's once-best friend turned main antagonist. However she drew herself up generating a version of regality which would not be denied by the megalomaniac host.
"Mrs. Kent, I wish it was under better circumstances. Please." As with her, Lex had his own feelings. He wondered how she would know to come now after years of ignoring him both here and in Washington. "I guess I should wish you a Merry Christmas."
"I wish it were so. I'm looking for Clark. I've been told you'd know where he is," she declared bluntly.
He regarded her with respect. He had always known of her inner strength even in the old days. Now however the farm charm had been dispensed with. He saw the woman which had briefly ensnared his father's attention. He noticed a flash of a formidable politician. "That's interesting," he responded while resetting their encounter to a more even footing. "Nobody knows where he is. There are efforts that have been made to insure that is so."
"Obviously not from certain avenues," she replied evenly. "No games, Lex. Where's Clark? I don't want to be rude. I just want my son."
He exhaled deeply. "Just a minute." He got up and walked over to the door. There he found Nichols with a cart holding a British metal tea service. "I'll handle it. Thank you, Nichols." He wheeled the cart into the room and shut the door behind himself. "Sorry. I wanted some discretion. I'm sure you'd agree." He handed her the prepared cup. "As you ordered, I presume? Nichols is impeccable. No tricks, I promise. There's enough going on for one day."
"So you know?" Her eyes pursued him back to the desk.
"The question though is how you know, Mrs. Kent. I'm curious. Did one of my staff somehow call you?" he queried pointedly.
"No, Lex. She isn't on your staff although she had an intimate knowledge of you," she insisted cryptically.
"Who, Mrs. Kent? Who is this 'she'? I don't tolerate leaks," he warned.
"Someone you can't hurt anymore, Lex. Someone you killed a long time ago. Someone I watched pass in Clark's arms," she clarified. "If I hadn't seen her with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it myself."
He rolled his eyes and ground his teeth. "Lana." He shook his head and face palmed himself. "This isn't a joke, Mrs. Kent."
"No, Lex, it isn't. I'm deadly serious. She appeared at the farm and told me to come here. Now where's Clark?" she pushed back with the temerity of an angry mongoose sizing up the cobra in the latter's own nest.
"Funny. Everyone thinks she's such an angel. You do realize how much she did? Whatever." He pressed a hidden button underneath the desk's drawer.
In response, a hidden panel in the wall popped open revealing a set of stairs ascending into darkness.
"You think I was going to leave him in plain sight? Have more regard for me than that," he noted seeing her disbelief. "Follow me." He beat down his own misgivings for his ex-wife to guide the guest up the stairs and toward the hidden room. He pressed a security code on the pad. "Funny. Clark was raving that she was here too. Wish she would've been more attentive when we were married."
"I don't want to start on that now, Lex," Martha declined to follow the argument. Instead she waited for the door to snap open. She followed her host into the sterile area.
Reardon turned from her chart. "Mr. Luthor! Who's this? Mr. Kent can't have visitors!"
"It's all right, Dr. Reardon. This is Martha Kent, Clark's mother. Martha Kent, Dr. Jillian Reardon, she's a noted specialist in certain areas that Clark's suffering from," Lex introduced.
"Dr. Reardon, what's going on?" Martha rushed to her son's side. She couldn't believe how weakly he was lying there in the bed.
Reardon sighed deeply and glanced toward Lex. Getting a nod from the industrialist, she revealed, "Your son has several issues going on. The battle left Mr. Kent with a shattered spine. Somehow his antagonists damaged his healing factor so it will not regenerate. In addition, Mr. Kent absorbed lethal amounts of green kryptonite radiation. If Mr. Luthor hadn't intervened in the affair and brought him here, Mr. Kent would already be dead, I fear. I've already cleansed his blood through dialysis but I can't get all of the kryptonite from his system."
"So he's paralyzed and dying from meteor exposure, you're saying?" Martha fought back several tears and clenched the bed post next to Clark's head. She would not break down in front of Lex. "I want STAR Labs consulted with."
Reardon sighed. "Mrs. Kent, I am the head of STAR Labs' research division." She produced an ID badge. "As soon as Mr. Luthor indicated that Superman needed our help, we dedicated our services instantly. I am sorry we can't do more for him."
"I am too, Dr. Reardon. May I have a moment alone with my son?" Martha requested.
"Of course. I will be watching his vitals from the other room however," the doctor agreed before she and Lex left the room locking the door behind them.
Martha squeezed Clark's hand. "Sweetie, Mama's here. It's okay." She kissed his brow gently allowing her tears to fall across his bruised forehead. She couldn't believe that her beloved son; her star child could be so badly beaten to a pulp.
He forced his eyes open. "M…mom?" He grinned.
"Yes, Clark. I'm here. Did you think I wouldn't find you?" she supposed putting on her best smile for his benefit. "I just wish you didn't have to take on every battle."
"Someone…has to. I…did my best. How…you find me?" he queried.
She looked around before leaning closely to him. "Lana did. Somehow she told me."
"She…was here too…." He took several breaths to calm himself. He felt the burning radiation scorching its way through his bloodstream. "Glad…she did. M…merry Christmas, Mom….Sorry…missed dinner."
"It's okay, Clark. We'll just have it when you're feeling better. You will heal. I won't let you go," Martha insisted. Just then she heard the door snap open again to see another woman in scrubs enter the room. "Sandra Moore?"
"Mrs. Kent! Lex called Byron and me. He's waiting outside," Sandra explained before embracing the older woman. "I guess the doctor needs a nurse to look in on Clark. I hope it's okay."
"I couldn't ask for a better choice to do so. Clark, look we have another visitor," Martha indicated.
"S…Sandra. How are you? Where…Byron?" the patient queried tiredly.
Sandra shook her head at the patient's condition. "He's outside, Clark. Just a sec." She walked across the room and opened the door. "Honey?" she called. "Come in."
Byron lumbered into the room. He sullenly glared at the instruments of LuthorCorp about himself…
…the instruments which had twisted him into his current state….
"Where is he?" the poet insisted.
His wife bit her lip. "Straight ahead. Byron, please, don't let him see you angry. Okay?"
"Not mad at him. Mad at Luthor," he insisted.
"Just the same. It's Clark's time now. Okay?" she soothed. "I know how being here makes you feel. But this is about making Clark feel good."
"Yes. Thank you for grounding me, my Sweet," he relented while allowing her a smile before they walked over together. "Clark?"
"Byron. Wanted…some…poems….Glad you're here," Clark insisted.
"I have plenty, my friend. It twill be all right. We will brighten the day with our comradery," Byron pronounced. Perhaps he was being a bit over the top but he wanted that for his friend's sake.
"Never…doubt that. Maybe…we can all do…Christmas here? Mom?" Clark agreed.
"Yes, Clark. I'm here. If Lex will allow it, I'll see what I can do," Martha concurred. "Byron, can you help me while Sandra looks in on Clark?"
"Certainly," Byron glanced toward his wife who nodded back at him in affirmation. Then he accompanied Martha from the room.
"Well you are certainly not alone, Clark. As if Byron and I would allow that?" She wiped his face with a cool cloth. "You're a wonder. We will do our best for you. That's a promise." She checked the charts and made a note to talk to Reardon about the baseline. "Why don't you rest? Save your strength? I'll wake you when there's news."
"Be…here?" Clark whispered.
"I'll be right here, Clark. That's a promise," Sandra affirmed. "Just think good thoughts."
And with that, Clark closed his eyes and relaxed; his mind slipping back into yesteryear once more…..