Chapter 13

Lois stared out into the dimly lit cornfield, resting her tired arms on the white porch railing and soaking in the comfort of the farmland's early morning peace. With shaky hands, she brought a cup of fresh coffee slowly to her lips and sipped its warm contents gratefully.

She sighed with relief.

After an evening of seemingly relentless alarms blaring in her ears, the stillness of the countryside around her felt deeply soothing. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply and taking a moment to just appreciate the much-needed moment of rest.

Sadly, the moment was brief, as her worried mind returned to reminding her of all the things that could come next.

She glanced back at the house, listening out for any sounds of movement. Gratefully, there were none. She needed to think, to process everything that had happened over the last 48 hours.

Clark had passed out almost immediately after they'd piled him into her dad's car outside of the DOD, and they hadn't been able to wake him since. Getting him into bed had been a struggle with just her and the boys to carry him up the stairs, but somehow, they'd managed it - one wobbly step at a time. She made sure the curtains in the bedroom were wide open so that sunlight would hit him directly as soon as it came up in a few hours' time, bathing him in its healing energy and hopefully restoring some of his strength.

Despite her residual shock and anger about the existence of 7734, she was at least grateful her dad had been able to convince General Hardcastle to let her take Superman back to her Smallville farmhouse without an escort. He had immediately made the case that Superman would probably be safer flying under the radar, without a convoy of soldiers giving away his location. After all, if the DOD headquarters itself hadn't been secure enough, where would be?

Maybe the stealthy approach was all they had left.

As for what he'd been working on, behind their back… she was too exhausted to work out how she even felt about it. There was just so much going on - humans infected with kryptonian consciousness, Morgan Edge secretly coming from krypton himself and John Henry Irons, a man from another world, claiming Superman would soon join them in an attempt to destroy the human race.

Maybe they did need a way to fight back against that level of threat.

The boys were up in their rooms. Lois had been surprised how wordlessly they had followed her suggestion to go upstairs, shoulders slumped and drained like they had no fight left in them at all. She hoped they were sleeping soundly, but she knew that was likely wishful thinking. Looking up at their window, she felt herself willing them to be okay with every fibre of her being – praying that somehow the things they'd seen wouldn't scar them for life.

She cursed herself for having been so naïve earlier that year when they'd decided to move.

Had they seriously thought being in Smallville would mean they could live a danger free, quiet life? The thought seemed ridiculous now. She shook her head, and a self-deprecating laugh escaped her lips as she quietly mocked their blind optimism.

Even before Clark had walked into the newsroom all those years ago, trouble had followed her around like a magnetic force. Then she'd fallen in love with a farm boy, who turned out to be a superhero - and that magnetic force had turned into a never-ending tornado, with her family at the epicentre.

As her dad liked to constantly remind her, having children with Superman was always going to come with a certain level of sacrifice. She wouldn't ever let him know it, but of course, he was right. When she'd fallen pregnant, no matter how many promises Clark made about making sure the boys would have a 'normal' life, she'd known there were simply some facts of who they were – what they were - that would inevitably place them in danger.

But they'd always been able to handle danger… hadn't they?

No matter what happened to either of them, they'd always just got back up, dusted off and moved on. That was how they'd survived. That was how they were able to keep going, keep fighting the good fight and never let their enemies win.

Or at least, that's what she'd thought. They'd been through so much over the years, and yet neither one of them had ever really stopped to examine those wounds or the scars they might have left behind.

She felt a twinge of guilt as she wondered if her own defensive impulse to pretend that she was emotionally unbreakable at times had rubbed off on Clark.

No… he'd always held his cards close to his chest. He may not have grown up in General Sam Lane's 'stiff upper lip', military household, but his father, Jonathan Kent Snr, had certainly been a proud and private man. He lived his life by strong moral principles… principles that had helped shape the extraordinary hero his son would become. There was no doubt in her mind that he was a loving and supportive father, full of gratitude for life and an unshaking appreciation for the good in people.

But he'd been stubborn too… reluctant to accept help and allowing pride to prevent him from showing any vulnerability or acknowledging his limitations. Clark learned from his example, that problems were to be kept at home – especially when there were dangerous secrets hiding in their barn, that other people simply would not understand.

Reputation in the community meant a lot to the Kents, and she knew Clark felt a sense of responsibility to live up to his father's stoicism in the way he dealt with any situation they faced.

So, his tendency to dismiss the lasting impact of the horrors they'd seen may not have come from her exactly.

But she hadn't really questioned it either, had she?

She swallowed hard as the image of Clark's horrified eyes last night flashed through her mind, sending a shiver down her spine. She tugged her cardigan closer to her, rubbing her arms for comfort.

After her dad had pulled Clark out of Lex's facility all those years ago, he had been barely recognisable. Those first few days of recovery, if she was honest with herself, she had worried maybe Luthor had beaten them after all. That he'd destroyed the man she loved in a way that he couldn't recover from.

Night and day, she had been there by his side, nursing him back to health with all the love and tenderness she could offer. She would never have given up on him, never have walked away - but she could still remember the relief she felt when he finally started acting a little more like himself. Before long, he had begun reassuring her, promising that everything was going to be fine. That it was finally over.

And she'd believed it. Because she wanted it to be true.

His mom had tried to dig a little deeper, to let him know it was okay to open up about what had happened. Hell, even her dad had tried to find out more about what Lex had been doing to him down there. But every time the topic came up, he would change the subject or simply completely shut down and retreat into silence.

'Look, it was bad,' he told them one afternoon, after months of radio silence. 'It was really, really bad. But he's gone now, and that's all that matters. I really don't want to go over all the gory details.'

They'd tried to respect his wishes, but after comforting him through endless nightmares for months, Lois had suggested the possibility of talking to a professional. Wow, had she regretted that. He'd pushed back so firmly it had shocked her, and she'd seen a side to him she'd never come across before. Something primal and defensive. She could tell he was afraid… and maybe for good reason. After all he'd been through, how could he ever put his trust in a medical professional again?

Besides, she felt like she didn't have a leg to stand on! After all, she'd refused to admit to her more vulnerable feelings countless times with him. Refused to acknowledge that the great Lois Lane could be shaken by anything as silly as fear.

But even back then, she'd known there was something unhealthy about the way they were just sweeping it under the rug. She could see the way his whole energy shifted whenever anyone even mentioned Lex, the dark cloud that would dull his usually bright blue eyes. Whatever experiences he'd had in that facility, they were clearly still very much alive for him, no matter how hard he tried to pretend he'd moved on.

Well, things were different now, weren't they? They were different.

They had a family.

She wasn't sure if it was the struggles Jordan had gone through with his mental health, or if just being a mom itself had awakened her to the importance of being able to share what was really going on inside, but with everything she knew now… she wasn't exactly surprised all of this was coming back to haunt them.

In fact… the more she thought about it, she was surprised it had taken this long.

She knew it wasn't going to be easy, but there was no denying it anymore.

Superman or no Superman… powers or no powers. Clark Kent had been through countless traumatic experiences in his life, and he was suffering the mental consequences. He wasn't psychologically invulnerable.

He was going to need some help.

'It's ALL gone?' General Lane asked in disbelief, pacing back and forth in his office, one of the few places in the DOD's headquarters not currently deemed unsafe to enter.

The hope he'd been holding onto that the attack was an isolated case had been smashed soon after their escape last night, but he'd held on to the notion that maybe SOME of the kryptonite weapons spread across several facilities all over the world would have been salvageable.

General Hardcastle gave him a slightly disapproving look at his emotional outburst, but simply nodded her confirmation. She was as cool and collected as ever, as though she was as invulnerable on the inside as Superman was on the outside. Usually, anyway.

'How could this have happened?' he asked in dismay. 'We had multiple safety protocols in place to prevent anyone, even a kryptonian…. Especially a kryptonian… from being able to break into any of our 7734 facilities.'

'Yes, we did General. We just didn't plan for one of our most trusted being turned into a kryptonian by some kind of alien technology,' she admitted, her matter-of-fact tone infuriating him.

The situation seemed so absurdly catastrophic to him that he found himself laughing involuntarily.

'Oh yeah,' he said sarcastically, 'I guess we just missed the boat on that one.'

'Next time…' Hardcastle began, but he swiftly cut her off.

'There won't BE a next time!' he yelled in frustration, slamming his hand down on his desk so hard his photo of Lois & Lucy toppled over. 'If this John Henry Irons is right, Morgan Edge and his army will soon have the power to take out the whole of Metropolis in MINUTES… and now we have no way of stopping them.'

His face had turned bright red, and he had moved in front of her, glaring right at her as though daring her to minimise what he was saying.

'We don't have TIME to hunt for more kryptonite now,' he continued, '…and even if we did, there would be nothing left to find. Believe me, I made sure any trace of that damn meteor rock was recovered, in every corner of the world.'

Hardcastle simply glared back at him, unflinching as he lashed out and making no move to escape his close proximity. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of her.

'Watch your tone, General,' she warned loudly, making sure he could see the threat in her eyes. 'I know you and your family have been through a lot, but you need to pull yourself together. One more word out of line and I will be forced to relieve you of your duties.'

He looked up at her in defiance for a moment, but he could see from her expression the futility of continuing down this path. He swallowed down the words that threatened to bubble up in complaint and let out a ragged breath, knowing that if he was going to be of any use at all to his family, or to the world, he needed to be working with the system… not exiled from it.

Recognising his change of composure, Hardcastle relaxed slightly, stepping back and turning around to face the American flag adorning his office wall, her hands held behind her back.

'We need to consider our options as they stand now,' she said calmly, like this was all some kind of theoretical puzzle. 'How well was Superman recovering? Before the explosion I mean.'

'It seemed like he was healing, and beginning to regain his powers,' Sam reported, hesitating for a moment before revealing more of what he'd seen to be true for his son in law. 'But his physical condition might not be all we have to worry about.'

General Hardcastle turned and raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to explain further.

'It seems as though he may be suffering symptoms of PTSD,' Sam explained, knowing how unbelievable that would sound to anyone outside of his family.

To anyone who didn't know him as Clark, Superman was an impenetrable, God like figure. No one ever thought of him as having human struggles, and that was how they liked to keep it. The more people saw of his human side, the more they might start to wonder what exactly he did with his time when he wasn't out rescuing people.

'Superman,' she said dubiously, as though checking she hadn't misheard him.

He nodded in response, sighing as he realised how hard it was going to be to close this pandora's box once it had been opened.

'Kryptonian physiology differs from ours in some of the more obvious ways, but we aren't so far apart. Emotionally, mentally… he may be just as vulnerable as we are,' he explained.

'I've seen no evidence of that,' she disagreed. 'General, in all my years of service, I've never seen anyone so single minded in their mission to protect. I've personally witnessed Superman's unique level of bravery, self-sacrifice and unwavering commitment to moral principles, despite extraordinary circumstances and unbelievable odds.'

'I don't disagree,' Sam acknowledged, 'But those aren't Kryptonian characteristics General,' he continued, feeling a small swell of pride as he did, 'That's just the kind of man he is.'

She considered his words carefully before seeming to accept what he was asserting.

'So you think he's been compromised?' she questioned, moving on from the debate about the nature of kryptonian consciousness.

General Lane nodded reluctantly. 'I was witness to what appear to be a panic induced flashback. Superman was hyperventilating, disjointed from reality and completely incapacitated.'

Hardcastle fell quiet for a while, seemingly digesting this new information and running through everything else she'd been filled in on since she arrived.

'Is Kryptonite the only thing that can hurt them?' Hardcastle asked after a few moments of tense silence.

Sam shook his head but gave her a dubious look, before responding, 'Red solar energy weakens them, reduces their power… but we'd have to lure them somewhere with equipment set up, and I don't see that happening easily. We don't have anything that could take even one of them out effectively enough to stop them…'

Then it hit him.

John Henry's suggestion back in that interrogation room.

The idea he'd hoped he would never have to seriously consider. He swallowed hard, hesitating to share the information with her. He knew once he did, there was no going back.

'What is it General?' Hardcastle said, recognising his attempt to hold something back. 'We need to lay ALL the cards on the table here.'

'The prisoner… John Irons… he mentioned a weapon,' Sam explained reluctantly. 'Something Lex Luthor developed, at least on his world, using solar flare technology in the form of a missile. He said it could be powerful enough to take one of them out… maybe even more than one.'

He watched General Hardcastle consider the information carefully. Sam was relieved to see she clearly understood the seriousness of any discussion involving Lex.

After a moment, she said, 'You're thinking of using Argus' mindscape technology?'

'It could be an option,' Sam admitted regretfully. 'But we don't even know if this technology exists on our world. It would be a huge risk to take without any intel to confirm it would actually pay off.'

He felt sick to his stomach even talking about the possibility of something like this behind his daughters back.

Since he first joined the army, he had taken the call to responsibility very much to heart, and he knew it was going to mean making hard decisions that others would never have to. More often than he'd like to admit, he'd found himself having to choose loyalty to his duties over loyalty to his family, and while there was a lot he now regretted, he'd felt a strong sense of conviction in those moments.

He knew what he was doing was right.

Lately, that internal conflict was becoming more and more difficult to navigate. There seemed to be a lot more grey and a lot less black and white.

'I'll make the call,' she said, making the decision for him and immediately beginning to dial.

Sam reached out a hand and placed it over hers instinctively, preventing her from finishing. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say, but he was unable to just let her make that call without saying… something.

'General, you know what Luthor did to Superman…' he started with caution. 'That's a huge factor in his current mental state. We can't do this if there is any risk of anything going wrong… or of him finding out. He would never trust us again.'

General Hardcastle looked from the hand over hers and then back to him with another intimidating glare, and he got the message, letting go and taking a step back submissively.

'Sam, I understand you have a personal relationship with Superman,' she acknowledged. 'That's one of the reasons you've had so much success in working with him, and I've come to respect it. But if there is even the smallest chance that something in Lex's mind might hold the key to us saving the world… then that is a risk we are going to have to take.'

General Lane sighed shakily. Part of him knew she was right, and he understood he didn't have the authority to prevent her from making that call. But he also knew that going along with this was probably going to result in him losing his families trust forever.

If they ever found out.

'General, if we don't find a way to stop this alien lunatic, there won't be a world left for Superman to protect,' she stated ominously, lifting her phone back up to her face as it began to ring.

Clark tossed and turned in the bed, his inner world a jumble of senses.

In his mind, he heard familiar footsteps. Saw flashes of green and red lights, alternating, making it hard to grasp where or when he was. The scent of that familiar cologne wafted up in waves, and the painful sensation of days long hunger twisted his stomach into knots.

He heard Luthor laughing – that maniacal laugh that cut through him like no other sound could. He twisted and turned, feeling like he was lost in darkness, despite the bright flashing lights.

Then there was another man's face, full of hate and determination. He flinched as the sound of metal crushing bone tore through him, and he felt himself falling, tumbling across a cold damp floor.

John Irons rage fuelled eyes bore into him and he felt himself shrinking away again, that feeling of shame and helplessness overwhelming his system.

Slowly his senses shifted once more, and he was on the floor again, illuminated by green glowing light. Shame and fear were present still, but for different reasons now.

'I'm going to see how quickly you heal after I peel the skin off your flesh, Superman,' Lex's voice whispered, and he could feel the man's hot breath against his ear.

Clark heard himself whimpering in response, totally incapable of hiding his fear after withstanding so much torture for the man's pleasure already.

Rough hands grabbed his arms, and he started to beg involuntarily. His words fell on deaf ears, and he was shoved unceremoniously onto what seemed like a dentist's chair in the middle of a bright room. All four of his weakly protesting limbs were strapped down tightly and slowly the chair began to move, lowering him into a horizontal position.

He couldn't help himself. When he saw the doctor come into view, pulling blue surgical gloves over his hands and regarding his patient like a body he was about to autopsy - he lost it.

He started to scream uncontrollably.

Clark struggled violently against his restraints, doing more damage to himself than to the straps holding him in place. But it was all that he could do, and his body refused to remain still in the face of the horrific experiment Luthor had warned him was about to begin.

Suddenly, he smelled a much more pleasant familiar perfume.

As soon as he noticed it, the doctor's movements became impossibly slow, and his surroundings felt more distant somehow. He felt the sensation of someone's small soft hands touching him and heard a gentle voice calling his name. He knew that voice… one of the hands rested reassuringly against his chest, and another hand brushed its fingers softly through his hair like she always did when she comforted him.

They were Lois' hands. She was there… wait, was Lois in the facility somehow?

For a moment, panic shot through him once more, but the hand on his chest began to stroke him gently and he vaguely heard her gentle words of comfort. 'It's okay Clark, you're safe now,' she whispered. 'It's just a dream'.

Slowly he started to drift out of what he now realised was only a nightmare and came back to the loving presence of his wife and the soft warmth of their bed.

'Lois?' he asked desperately, seeking the reassurance of her voice once more.

'I'm here Clark,' she said softly, bringing her other hand down the side of his face to stroke the line of his jaw. 'I'm right here.'

He let out a huge sigh of relief and then struggled to pull fresh air back into his lungs. His whole body was shaking and there was sweat pouring from his brow. She reached over to a small bowl on their bedside table and lifted out a wet cloth, ringing it once and then dabbing it across his forehead and down his neck.

He relaxed back against the pillow, grateful for the cool comfort.

'How are you feeling?' she asked him softly once his breathing had returned to normal.

'Oh, you know, like I was hit by a truck and then had all the energy sucked out of me by some kind of parasite,' he said as he opened his eyes, trying to give her a reassuring smile. 'Other than that, I'm fine.'

Lois stared at him quietly, ignoring his weak attempt to lighten the mood. She had a serious look on her face, like she'd been mulling something over and no amount of deflection was going to stop her from talking to him about it.

'That's it? You're completely fine?' she said probingly, giving him a questioning look and a raised eyebrow.

He tried to meet her gaze with a clueless expression, despite knowing exactly what she was likely referring to.

'It might take me a few days to get back to full strength, but I'm going to be fine Lois, I promise. Are the boys okay?' he asked, partly trying to change the subject, but also genuinely concerned about his sons safety.

'They're downstairs,' she confirmed, allowed herself a half smile, 'attempting to make breakfast for themselves.'

'Wait, do we have a fire extinguisher down there?' he joked in a croaky voice.

She couldn't help but laugh and Clark thought for a moment that maybe he was in with a chance of putting this off after all… but then her face returned to that determined look that he'd seen a thousand times, and he knew she wasn't going to let him off that easily.

'We've been so stupid, Clark,' she said, and he responded with a confused look.

'Stupid?' he said, peering at her in concern. 'About what?'

'For thinking we were above dealing with our feelings,' she explained.

Clark shifted uncomfortably, pulling himself slowly into a sitting position and resigning himself reluctantly to the conversation she was clearly adamant on having.

'It was just a nightmare,' he tried to reassure her.

'Clark, you've had two panic attacks in the last 24 hours, fully conscious… and I'm pretty sure you were having a flashback in that last one,' she pushed on, 'this isn't just bad dreams. This is some kind of trauma response, maybe even PTSD.'

Clark squirmed at the words trauma and PTSD. He didn't exactly understand what had happened to him in that hospital, but he couldn't afford to be thinking of himself as a victim right now. He needed to focus on recovering so that he could take out Morgan Edge before he got any further in his plans.

'Clark, I've never pushed you to talk about what happened with Lex…' his wife continued, and he flinched at the sound of his tormentor's name, 'or anyone you've come up against for that matter. You didn't want to go there, and at the time I chose to respect that, because I wanted you to do the same for me,' she explained. 'But now…. I can't help but wonder if bottling it up did more damage than good. For both of us.'

'Lois…' he started, but he faltered, unable to figure out what to say.

Between memories of John Henry's attack and memories of… his previous captivity… his whole reality had been shifting in and out of the past in a totally disjointing way these last two days, and he couldn't deny that it had incapacitated him at a time when his family had really needed him the most.

'I think you're having a panic attack,' he remembered his son saying, as he lay there on that hospital floor, completely unable to fight his bodies nervous system from taking over his senses. His son. His 15-year-old son, who had proceeded to coach him about how to breathe.

Was he really susceptible to this kind of thing? No, it couldn't be that simple. There had to be some other explanation. He was an alien after all!

'Lois, my body doesn't work like other people's,' he said, reassuring himself as much as her. 'I don't even think that I can develop… that kind of problem. It's probably something to do with the kryptonite exposure and the blows to the head I took yesterday. I'm sure once I'm back to full strength, these attacks will stop on their own.'

He felt pretty confident about how convincing that had sounded, until he realised his wife's expression had shifted to something resembling disappointment.

He watched her in confusion as she stood up, placed her hands on her hips and turned her back to him, turning to face the window. She paused there for a moment before turning back around slowly, her posture stiff like she was holding her breathe against words she might regret.

'Clark, that's a load of crap, and you know it,' she said, unable to contain the bluntness of how she really felt.

Clark just looked up at her, speechless. She held his gaze, her eyes imploring him to see whatever it was that she was seeing. He tried to consider her words, but the closer he got to really taking in their meaning, the more resistance he felt surging up inside of him.

He felt a certain amount of guilt rising up too, but it wasn't enough to bring down those internal walls he'd had in place for years. He felt his defensive brain kick into autopilot, not really caring about what was rational. He only knew what he needed to do to survive, and that certainly wasn't giving in to what Lois seemed to be looking for from him.

She softened a bit at his conflicted expression and sat back down on the bed, taking his hand in hers gently.

'I love you, Clark,' she said, her voice full of emotion. 'You know that's never going to change. I love every single part of you. You don't have to pretend to be invulnerable with me.'

He bit the inside of his lip as he felt the insistent tug of his wife's words on his heart. Her eyes were pleading with him to let her in.

'I know this is scary….' she continued, 'no, more than that… and I know you want to just forget these things ever happened… but your subconscious is practically screaming at you and I don't think you can't just will that away,' she reasoned with him. 'Maybe we can't just keep pushing things down and expecting them to stay buried.'

'I wonder how long he would survive if we buried him alive.'

Lex's cold words danced through his mind, and he felt a surge of defensive anger rising up, pulling him out of his wife's mental grasp.

'What exactly do you expect me to do Lois?' he said angrily, suddenly whipping his legs out from under the covers and standing up with surprising speed despite his body's physical exhaustion.

He spotted some clothes she had laid out for him at the end of the bed, and moved around her, grabbing the pair of jeans and stepping into them clumsily, pulling them up as quickly as he could. He couldn't quite work out why items of clothing had suddenly become a priority, but he knew he needed them. He felt completely exposed. Was he getting ready to escape or something?

He tried to calm down, tried to reason with himself. This was his wife he was talking to. His wonderful, beautiful… if somewhat stubborn and persistent… wife. He didn't need to run away from her, did he?

He could feel himself losing his grip on the mask he usually wore so well. That permanent pretence that he was unshakeable, that he rarely let slip, even when he was alone. And the feeling of it slipping away made the environment of their bedroom suddenly feel unsafe.

Lois stood and faced him again, watching him curiously as he fumbled with his belt. He avoided looking at her directly as a mess of words and emotions began cascading out of him, much to both of their surprise.

'My dad always said, if anyone found out where I was from, they'd dissect me like a frog… he warned me not to trust anyone, not to share my secret. But I decided to expose myself anyway,' he found himself almost shouting. 'I told the world I was an alien! And I was stupid enough to think it would all be okay.'

He could hear the distress growing in his own voice and he wished he could stop himself from saying anything more, but he felt like he'd lost control of his verbal filter.

Lois stood completely still as he continued. He couldn't tell if she was choosing to be silent so he could continue or if she was simply lost for words, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to look at her face to confirm which it was.

'Well, it turned out he was right all along!' he continued. 'All those nightmares I grew up with, all those worst-case scenarios… they were nothing compared to what he had in store for me.'

He pulled a blue cotton t-shirt over his head and felt himself looking furtively towards the exit, wondering if he could just make a dash for it.

'I'm the one who has to live with that, Lois,' he said, his voice suddenly cracking and any remaining words catching in his throat.

'Clark…' she said softly, stepping towards him and gently lifting his chin to search his lost expression.

'I don't even know if I could talk about it, even if I wanted to,' he said, his words full of pain. 'Most of it is just a blur, and the few times I've tried to push to remember something more clearly, it just gets even further away,' he admitted.

He almost couldn't believe what he was saying. He was admitting something to her that he'd barely even admitted to himself.

'Clark, neither of us are exactly experts in psychology… but it sounds really normal for traumatic memories to feel blurry,' she reassured him. 'I think a professional is supposed to be able to help you make sense of it somehow.'

The wall came back up again at the mention of a professional.

'Oh, come on, who am I supposed to talk to, Lois?' he said, looking at her like she was the one who was being irrational. 'And who would I go as, Superman or Clark? Either way, I'd only be able to share half the story, be half of myself. How would that work?'

Lois moved closed to him as he struggled with the buttons on the flannel shirt he'd absent mindedly pulled on, bending down slightly so she could look up into his eyes as she took over from his fumbling fingers.

'We've confided in doctors before Clark,' she reminded him. 'Maybe this is one of those times when you might just have to take that risk.'

Clark froze then, her words confirming how seriously she was taking this. She wasn't just casually suggesting he open up. She was genuinely so concerned about his wellbeing, that she was suggesting they risk their lives by revealing his secret to a stranger.

Noticing that she might be getting through to him, she continued on.

'Clark, think about the impact this will have on the boys,' she encouraged. 'What kind of message does it send them if their dad refuses to admit when he needs help? Do you want your sons to think they should learn to hide their real feelings? To believe that it's not okay to show fear, or to be open about their emotional struggles?'

'Of course not… but,' he started, but she persisted on before he could start making excuses for why he was different.

'They've just seen you beaten and bloody on the floor. Then lying in a hospital bed. Then having uncontrollable panic attacks in the midst of a crisis,' she said, her words too powerful for him to just bat away now. 'Think about it. What example do you want to set with the actions you choose next?'

He felt his internal wall beginning to crumble, but at the same time realised he was no longer keeping one eye on the exit. She was right. He wanted to show his sons the kind of bravery it took to be vulnerable.

He sank back down on the bed once more, sinking into the truth his wife was encouraging him to face. She crouched down next to him, placing a hand on his knee.

'I just… I don't want to go back there, Lois,' he said desperately, meeting her eyes despite the discomfort he felt, and really allowing his fear to be seen. 'I barely made it back the first time. I don't know if I can go through that again.'

He felt something wet on his cheek and realised he must be crying.

'Clark, you are the strongest man I have ever known,' his wife said, wiping away his tears with her thumb.

He looked away from her then, feeling ashamed and like he wasn't remotely living up to that statement.

'Hey,' she said, pulling his face back towards her. 'I don't mean because you can bench press a tractor or because you are some kind of emotional robot who is never afraid. You are strong on the inside Clark, in the way that counts. You've fought off so much darkness, and you've always defeated it… this is just another battle, something you have to go inside to face. And I know you can beat this darkness too.'

Clark's despair and fear lifted just enough to allow for a glimmer of hope to enter as he bathed in his wife's unfaltering belief in him.

'Especially because I'll be right here with you,' she added, breaking into a warm and reassuring smile, and kissing him gently on the lips.

He looked at her with deep gratitude as their lips parted, feeling safe again for the first time in two days.

'I love you, Lois,' he breathed, holding on to that simple truth and letting it give him the strength he needed to face whatever was coming next.