Chapter 26

[Luthor Mansion—2018]

Waves of nausea pulled Clark out of his reverie and back to the present. He forced himself to remain stolid so as to not disturb his friends' celebration in front of him. After all, he enjoyed their happiness.

"We're okay, Clark," Sandra assured him. She pulled a white curtain obscuring the others. Then she walked up to him and slid a plastic container under his chin. "Sorry but you look like you need it."

He threw up a stinky kryptonite-laden mess into the container somehow getting it all in there. "Th…thanks, Sandra."

"No problem. I'm here. So's everyone else." She screwed the lid on. "You've been kind of out of it. Thinking of Lana helps with the pain?"

"It does. Sorry. I…." He shook violently from the latest set of spasms jerking his body around. The fire in his veins burned harsher than ever. He screamed.

Sandra yanked the curtain back to see everyone's attention clearly on her and the patient. The monitors were going crazy in back of them.

Reardon rushed over and examined the readouts. "He's going into some sort of arrest." She shook her head wishing they could do more.

Martha put her head down on her son's chest straining to hear his tortured breathing.

Sandra set the sealed container gently in the wastebasket before embracing Byron for comfort.

"So the downward slide presses/The hero resists as possible/Love him caresses/As he suffers Malady's crucible," the poet quipped morosely.

"Like your lighter stuff better, Dude," Pete remarked.

"It's an assessment, Pete. He's right," Sam noted. "And we're here to help. Wish we could do more."

"Clark would tell you that you're doing that by being here," Martha assured them.

Clark, on the other hand, had slipped back into the fevered reverie. Once more he saw the past as Fate's strings clinched the previous time…..

[A/N: Hanky Alert! Here's the moment we've all been dreading….]

[Kent Farm—Two weeks following the Fourth of July/Bari Breakfast]

A gentle rain fell on the Kansas prairie on that mid-July day. The crops almost seemed to reach up to receive its nourishment. Humidity hung in the air. A few grasshoppers chomped hungrily on leaves before them; their jaws cutting down the life before it.

An apt yet dark prophecy of what was to come….

Lana coughed heavily on the couch. She wanted to do her weekly polishing of the furniture to assist in the efforts around the house. She leaned over and spat blood into a Styrofoam cup beside her feeling gross at she did it before setting it back on the nightstand beside her.

Meantime the polish and rags sat on the side table unused….

She hated herself for feeling so weak Two days after the festival and the Mediterranean surprise, her body's twitching picked up in intensity again. The numbness held her limbs hostage. She hacked constantly keeping Clark and herself awake at all hours of the night. Increasingly she couldn't do anything even with Clark assisting her.

He'd gone out to the barn only five minutes earlier to check on the chores. He'd said he'd be right back.

Time dragged for her. I'm a mess. What's going on now?

The end of your suffering, Sweetie….

Lana beheld a brunette female figure in a white flowing robe and a familiar face in the darkness before herself. She knew Clark wasn't helping her at the moment so she didn't understand how she could see the visitor. Still the face…. She gasped. "Mom?"

Yes, Lana, it's me. Laura smiled serenely. You've suffered enough. It's time for you to come home. Call Clark.

"Clark…" Lana coughed violently and spat again into the cup. "Sorry….I….How will he…take it?"

Another prepares him for this point. Call him, her mother bade.

"Clark!" she called and waited for her beloved to answer….

[Kent Barn]

Clark swept the concrete floor at super speed. He'd made sure the stalls and animals were in order. He'd fed and watered them all. The milk had long since been collected….

…Still he lingered….

Lana needed his help….

…and yet still he loitered there….

Why can't you just go back to the house? He dreaded the iciness he'd felt from her body. Not from her mind or heart, grant you. But her hands had seemed clammy and cold for days. She'd been weak and listless. She couldn't access his link as easily as she had in the beginning.

He bowed his head. His heart knew the answer before his brain would admit it.

You clean that floor anymore and we'll need glasses.

He froze and turned to find Jonathan standing behind him. "Dad?"

"Hey, Clark. What's going on? Don't you have some other place to be right now?" Jonathan queried expectantly.

"Just wanted this place to be clean for Mom and Lana. You know how Mom likes that," Clark deflected.

"Son, stop with the sweeping. It's getting close to time. That's why I'm here. You remember how you carried on after I passed on?" the farmer urged.

Clark silently bowed his head. The sadness and pain began to swamp him.

Jonathan embraced him. "Clark, I wish I could cure Lana. Lord knows I wish I had the answer. I am sorry I didn't trust her with your Secret. Maybe you two would've had more time together. The most important thing now though is she needs you to be strong. When she does pass on, she needs you there at her side. That day is today, Son."

"Jonathan?" Martha asked in a surprised tone.

"Hi, Martha." Jonathan smiled at her. "Sorry about the impromptu visit. I was sent here on business. We need to get to the house."

"House? Lana?" Martha realized.

"Clark!" Lana called to Clark.

"Lana! Sorry, I…." Clark super sped across the expanse and into the house in a blur.

"I'm sorry, Martha. I know how hard this is and will be. It's Lana's time," Jonathan revealed.

"As in The Time?" Getting a nod from her deceased husband, she stared at him. "You're here to take Lana?"

"No. I'm here to help you and Clark get ready. Follow me," Jonathan noted as he led her across the driveway and into the house.

Clark, brace yourself! Martha thought to herself while fearing the worst.

Clark rushed desperately into the house. His heart beat helter-skelter. Sweat drenched his brow. "Lana!"

"She's right here, Clark. It's okay," Laura assured him. "I thought your father would've told you."

"He did. With all due respect, Mrs. Lang, how can you say it's okay? Lana's dying," he pointed out.

"Clark, please stop yelling at my Mom. She's…right. It's okay," Lana interceded as strongly as she could.

"But…" Clark stammered.

"Our time's been wonderful, Clark. We've been in love since that birthday wish, remember? You're everything I can hope for. Thank you for giving…me this great home," Lana told him.

He took her hands solemnly into his own. "It's my pleasure. Thank you for being my wife and for loving me all of our lives. I just wish it was for longer. It's not fair."

"Life's not fair, Clark. Despite me passing on, just try to stop me from watching over you. As for not being long enough, we have forever. Wait for me and look after our trees please?" Lana vowed with a pointed twinkle in her eyes.

"Of course I'll watch after them. Have no doubt that I'll wait for you, Lana. Whether it takes years or centuries, we will see each other again," he told her. "One last kiss?"

"Please." Lana smiled with effort.

His lips locked onto hers delicately. Once more they brushed Amor's strokes across her fading features and salved their pain. They poured energy into her defiantly trying to resist Death's handiwork.

"My Superman….I…love…you," Lana whispered before closing her eyes. Her breathing slowed and then stopped completely. Her hands went limp in his.

"Lana…Lana, I…" He sucked in a burning breath of his own. His heart ached. The sobs emerged from his throat. His tears flowed down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Clark. Just know Lana's not in pain anymore. She will always love you. I want to add my thanks. You've always been there for her when Lewis and I couldn't be. I hope it comforts you to know we consider you a part of our family as well," Laura assured him.

"As we do, Lana, Laura," Jonathan affirmed. "Why don't you go and see to her? Martha and I have things here."

"Before you go, thanks, Mrs. Lang, and sorry about…what I…said," Clark apologized.

"It's okay, Clark. And please I prefer if you'd call me Mom," Laura assured her son-in-law before giving him a hug. Then she disappeared into the mid-day light.

Martha hesitated while fighting her own emotions. She remembered how it felt when the angel next to herself had passed along. She'd fought with some of the same feelings she imagined Clark was dealing with at the moment. "Clark, your Dad and I are here with you. Okay?"

"Mom, Dad, I…." Clark grabbed onto both of them. Somehow he managed not to crush her in his grief.

"Let it out, Clark. It's okay. We're here," Jonathan advised soothingly. "Just let it all out."

"I miss her too, Baby. She's not in pain. She still loves you. Think of that," Martha added.

Clark heard the words somehow through the waves of emotional furor and numbness raging inside of himself. Still he didn't really react to them. He was too overwhelmed with grief and pain. He curled up into a ball.

And his parents stayed right there by his side comforting him. Love didn't give an inch in that instance….