Fic: One Christmas at the Kent Farm (DCU - Clark/Lois) 1/1
Title: One Christmas at the Kent Farm
Category: Superman Returns
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5,999
Prompt: (for 12days_of_clois #002 - making sugar cookies
Summary: Christmas is coming early for the Lane-Kent family.
Spoilers: for "One Night at the Planet" and "One Night at Riverside Drive"
Disclaimer: DC and WB own it all. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes: This is the third story in the "One Night" series. The fic grew from one night, to several days and nights, though, hence the title change. :p You don't have to have read either of the other two to enjoy this story. The general idea is that Clark and Lois are now married, and Richard is dead, from a combination of drugs and a tragic incident. FTR, I have no first-hand knowledge of the primary topic of this fic, please don't kill me if I've gotten anything wrong! O_O Also, I have to admit this was a little rushed toward the end, since I wanted to get it done before my birthday officially kicks off, and meet my Dc. 13th deadline for 12days_of_clois. I plan on lengthening the story considerably to flesh it out later (darned word count restriction! :p). In the mean time, enjoy! ^_^
One Christmas at the Kent Farm
With the third snow of the winter already settling onto the fields surrounding the old farmhouse, the sun setting at its early winter hour, the Lane/Kent family was warm inside with cups of hot cocoa and plenty of holiday preparations to keep them busy for at least a few more hours into the evening. Just two days left until Christmas - their first together as a new family - and Martha had conveniently left the bulk of the decorating for Clark, Lois, and Jason to arrive so they could all do it together.
As Lois took a break from separating ornaments to hang on the tree, absolutely exhausted, Clark and Jason laughed and carried on in the kitchen with Martha, cutting out gingerbread cookies to bake. Lively holiday music played on the radio over the old television, and sweetly spiced candles burned around the living room, filling the farmhouse with the scents of cinnamon, eggnog, and cranberry. With her feet toasty in fuzzy slippers, Lois was pretty sure the entire scene was perfect.
Well, just shy of perfect, anyway. Really, only two things could have made her happier, despite the rushing to get things done. If Richard were still around, Jason might not be so prone to fits of occasional melancholy, Clark not quite so damned cautious about everything. The second thing... She groaned as she settled back into the couch, sliding out of her slippers and propping her feet up on a pillow.
At the sound of her discomfort, Clark came around from the kitchen, wiping flour from his hands onto his jeans. “Lois?” he looked at her questioningly, coming quickly to her side and brushing her hair back from her face to tuck it behind her ear. “Do you need anything?”
She glared at him dangerously as she shifted, setting her cocoa down on the coffee table. “Yeah, I need to get this baby out of me, so I can get up and stop being a bump on a log,” she grumbled, before reaching up to meet Clark's kiss, his fingers brushing her cheek. Grabbing his hand with her own, she leaned her forehead against his. “How in the world am I supposed to endure six more whole weeks of this!?” she whimpered, tempering Mad Dog Lane with pure annoyance.
Clark chuckled lightly as he knelt next to her, laying his free hand across her quite swollen belly. “By sheer will,” he smirked, and leaned in to give her another kiss. “I know you hate bed rest, but-”
“But Dr. Hamilton's orders, blah, blah, blah. I know,” she rolled her eyes, her brow furrowed. “Mmph,” she winced then, moving to press and rub the side of her belly with a palm. “Not only am I a land barge, I'm apparently an indoor soccer field. Your daughter has a harder kick than Jason ever did.”
A grin spread across Clark's face at that, and Lois was pretty sure their unborn child already had him wrapped around her tiny, tiny finger. Laying his head gently over her belly, he dropped kisses on the place above where he knew their daughter's head rested. “I bet you take after your mother,” he whispered warmly.
It was Lois's turn to smirk. “I'd say that's a pretty safe assumption, considering the way she's got you crooning to her and telling her Kryptonian fairy tales.”
Huffing seriously, Clark retorted, “They're not fairy tales. They're epic legends. Big difference.”
“Ha. There was a princess. Give it up, Kent.”
Clark sighed, nuzzling her belly some more. “All right, all right. I give. They're fairy tales.” The besotted sparkle in his jewel-blue eyes told Lois all she needed to know as he continued, “She'll have the entire Planet eating out of her hand and trembling before her presence the moment we introduce her to the staff, you know.”
“No doubt,” Lois agreed happily. “Now get off me. I'm getting a leg cramp, and I want my cocoa.”
“Yes ma'am,” Clark smiled, rising from her side. With another brush of his hand across her belly, he asked, “You're sure you don't need anything?”
Lois cocked her head to the side and thought for a moment. “How about some of that gingerbread cookie dough? Molasses sounds really good right now.”
* * * * *
The next morning the fields around the old farmhouse glistened with at least six inches of snow, sparkling in the cold Kansas sunlight. It was all Lois could do to keep Jason from heading out to play in it without at least putting on a coat and gloves, as excited at the seven-year-old was, until Clark finally returned from dealing with a flash flood in Colorado in time to intercept their son at the door.
“Whoa, kiddo! Wait for me, will ya?” he chuckled as he twirled the little boy around to deposit him back in the living room, his uniform looking a little worse for wear from the morning's activities.
“You're gonna come out and play, too?” Jason grinned widely.
“Of course! Why don't you go wait for me on the porch, and I'll get changed and put on a coat so we can have a good, old-fashioned snowball fight.
“Yaaayyy!!!” their son bounced excitedly, skipping back out of the living room and through the front door to wait.
Lois just shook her head at his energy from her spot on the couch, wishing she could muster some up herself to at least get changed out of her pajamas. When Clark bent down to kiss her forehead, she asked, “Everything go okay?” Tilting her head up, she managed to snag an actual kiss before he stood up again.
“For the most part. It wasn't as bad as it looked at first.”
“That's good.” She glanced toward the kitchen. “Your Mom is making more cookies,” she cautioned. “I have the feeling we'll be eating sugar cookies for the next month.”
Clark couldn't help but chuckle warmly at the face Lois made at the prospect of a never-ending supply of cookies. “Well, Jason and I should have no problem with them. Super metabolism, remember?”
“How could I forget?” she smirked in return, reaching up underneath his cape to swat him on his toned behind. “Now scoot. Your son is waiting to go outside, and I've got presents to finish wrapping.”
“As you wish,” Clark whispered as he bent down to kiss the crown of her head, before heading upstairs to change into weather-appropriate clothes.
“And no peeking!” she called after him as he disappeared up the stairs.
Alone again and feeling more uncomfortable than ever, Lois leaned back into the couch and rubbed at her belly, eying the pile of wrapping paper and assorted bows and tags heaped on the coffee table. She hoped her two boys could keep themselves occupied long enough for her to drag out their gifts and get them finished.
Alternatively, she hoped they could keep themselves busy long enough for her to sneak into the kitchen and help Martha with the cookies. Anything to get off the damn couch for a while.
* * * * *
Outside, Clark surveyed the lay of the land to set up a strategic position from which to launch his snowball assault. In the interest of fairness, however, he pointed Jason to the best spot to launch his own assault; right behind the old tractor, the rusted vehicle buried up to the center of its wheels.
“That's your best best,” he explained, kneeling next to his son. “Stay mostly hidden behind it, and keep your snowballs stacked out of the line of sight.”
“Gotcha,” Jason nodded, scampering through the snow to set up his position.
Satisfied, Clark grinned, and headed in the other direction to hunker down behind the chicken coop. A furious round of snowball prep later, he let the first volley fly, his cry triumphant, “Ready or not!”
Squeals of laughter followed from the opposing camp as Jason popped up with his own two-fisted attack, launching one after the other in his Dad's direction.
Clark ducked just in time as the second ball sped by his head to crash into the field behind him. “Close, but no cigar!” he cried out.
“Oh, yeah!”
Another volley came right after the first, but Clark was ready with his own, clipping Jason's shoulder and showering the little boy with snow as another ball slammed into the steering wheel of the tractor and exploded in glistening brilliance.
Before long it was all-out war, peals of laughter and shrieks of surprise interspersed with victorious cries as the pair pelted each other with snowballs, the casualties melting in their hair and on their faces, Jason's now rosy pink as he intermittently shook himself clear of the debris. The battle seemed to wage for hours, until Clark charged out from behind the chicken coop, ammunition in each hand. “Take no prisoners!” he cried out as Jason ducked behind the tractor with a yelp.
Coming around the buried vehicle, Clark hit his target dead center, finally tackling the little boy and sweeping him up in his arms. “Haha! I've got you now!”
Jason squealed in delight and rubbed more snow into Clark's hair in return as they crashed to the ground. “No fair!” he protested. “You crossed enemy lines!”
“Everything's fair in snowball war, kiddo!”
* * * * *
“What are you doing up, dear?” Martha scolded Lois lightly when the younger woman shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing the underside of her belly absently.
Lois shrugged, “Just needed to get up and move. Thought I might help you with some cookies.”
“I see that wicked gleam in your eyes,” the older woman teased, waving a wooden spoon to make her point. Then she chuckled. “Have a seat and you can help me cut out these sugar cookies. I'm taking this batch to the church's Ladies Auxiliary for the county homeless shelter this afternoon.”
The reporter in Lois perked up as she plopped ungracefully into one of the old chairs at the table. “Oh, that sounds wonderful. I bet it'll be a nice treat for them all to serve fresh home-baked cookies instead of that preserved stuff.” She couldn't help it if she sounded a little more sentimental than she otherwise might have been, between the hormones and the obvious fact that it was Christmas, and for once, she didn't care. Who needed to protect an image when they looked like a beached whale?
“Exactly,” Martha nodded as she went back to rolling out the dough on a large cookie sheet. “Here we go,” she said at last, carrying the tray, along with an extra tray and some festive cookie cutters to the table.
Lois eyed the selection of cutters carefully. A star, a candy cane, a bell, and a Christmas tree. Her hand hovered over the cutters for a moment, then she plucked up the tree shape, getting right to work. A comfortable silence stretched between the two women as they cut out cookies and laid them on the other tray, Lois cutting out trees and Martha stars, which she placed nearly atop the trees to go in the oven.
When the tray was filled, Martha exchanged it for fresh one, setting the timer on the first batch, and again they set to work cutting cookies.
Through the several batches the women cut out to bake, Lois allowed her mind to wander. A year ago she was buying store bought cookies with Richard, having a mental breakdown over the way things seemed to be going between them, and wondering if Jason's real father was ever planning to man up and be there for him, wondering whether Kal-El had any intentions of even seeing his own son on Christmas. She was stressed, exhausted, worried, and angry. And if that wasn't enough, Jason was having a fit with his asthma. All on Christmas Eve.
What a difference a year had made.
Now she was here, sitting in Clark's mother's kitchen, making real, honest-to-goodness sugar cookies. Clark and Jason were out playing in the snow - if the squealing laughter was any indication, they were probably having a snowball fight - and she was weeks away from delivering her second child.
What on Earth did I do to deserve all this?
“Lois?”
Martha's lean fingers covered her own for a moment, and the younger woman looked up from where she realized she'd been staring at the same cookie for who knows how long. “Huh? Oh. I...” Absently, she swiped a hand over her cheek, her fingers coming away wet. “Uh, sorry,” she mumbled.
But Martha wasn't deterred. “It's quite all right. Are you okay?”
Lois nodded surely, her hair bouncing around her shoulders. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just... thinking. Guess I... I've been a little overwhelmed by everything. This last year, I mean...” She shook her head, blinking heavily, then spoke more quietly, “A lot's happened.” She didn't even want to think about what had happened to Richard, the shell he'd become, the way he'd attacked her... the way he'd died. It shouldn't have happened. Not that she placed any blame on Clark, but someone should have known what was happening to Richard and stopped it.
“I'm sorry,” Martha whispered, wise understanding in her eyes as if she'd picked the thoughts right from Lois's head.
“I... thank you,” Lois finally said, smiling faintly. She chuckled, trying to sweep aside her darker thoughts. “And now with all these baby preparations! I don't know how I'm ever gonna get it all done, seeing how I'm confined to the couch most of the time!”
“Oh, dear, you know I understand, well, mostly. the older woman patted her hand and winked at her as she focused her attentions back on the cookie tray. “The year we found Clark was quite the doozie. Imagine me and Jonathan, out shopping for clothes, toys, everything we needed for a tiny little boy, not having any idea what...”
Lois relaxed into hearing the story, getting back to work on the cookies, and just as she picked up the tree-shaped cutter, a squeezing pain froze her entire body. “Gaaahhh!!!” she groaned, her hands flying to her belly as fire seemed to erupt somewhere deep inside. “Oh, no... nonononononoNO!!” she managed as she sat back from the table, eyes squeezed shut against the painful clenching of muscles she'd been doing her damnedest to keep quiet.
“Lois?” Martha breathed, eyes wide as she stood from her chair and came to Lois's side. “Clark!!!”
* * * * *
Tumbling in the snow well after the formal snowball fight was over, Jason squirmed away from his Dad's tickles, throwing icy flakes everywhere, but especially at Clark. “You can't win!” the little boy roared, before his mocking laugh descended into giggles again.
All at once, the laughing grin dropped off of his Dad's face, Clark freezing, then rising from the ground in a blur. Jason found himself alone in the snow before he knew what was happening.
* * * * *
The sharp pressure was almost blinding in intensity. Lois could hardly breathe, couldn't move, and when the door to the farmhouse burst inward, nearly coming off its hinges, she cringed a little more into herself, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Lois!” Clark was beside her at once, broad palm stroking the already sweat-soaked hair back from her face. “Lois, talk to me!”
All she could do was clench her jaw and groan, feeling her uterus squeezing tightly, painfully.
She heard Martha on her other side, the older woman's voice seeming far away, “We should get her to the hospital, Clark.”
“Oh, no... Lois...” She felt his hand trembling as he cupped her face, and leaned into his touch, waiting for the pain to pass. “Lois?”
Finally, the pressure seemed to ease, and the world came back into focus. When she opened her eyes, breathing heavily, the panic stricken look on Clark's face as he watched her almost made her laugh in absurdity. “Heh. I... Damn, that hurt!”
He stroked her face again. “We'll take you to the county hospital, okay? Maybe this is just... false labor... like Dr. Hamilton said you might have... But we should be sure.”
She nodded weakly, praying he was right as memories of Jason's tiny form lying in an incubator flashed unwittingly before her eyes. “O-okay. Yeah.”
Shakily, she tried to stand, Clark and Martha steadying her on either side. “Easy now,” Martha encouraged. “I'll go get the car started. Clark, go slow with her.” Releasing Lois's arm, she moved to turn off the oven, grab her coat, and disappear out the front door.
Lois looked up in time to see Jason standing in the doorway, his eyes wide. “Mommy, are you okay?”
“Yeah, baby,” she sighed, holding onto Clark for dear life. She imagined he'd bruise from her grip if he wasn't invulnerable. “I'm just not feeling too well right now.”
“And we're just gonna take her to the hospital to make sure everything's all right, okay sport?” Clark's tone was clear and firm, the same as if he was assuring a victim of some disaster that they would be fine, even if they were bleeding out and on death's door, and it set part of Lois's mind into a greater state of alarm.
Halfway down the steps from the porch, Lois felt another contraction starting - far too soon to just be false labor. “Clark...” she warned before digging her nails into his arm through his light coat, the pain returning with seeming vengeance. She felt a pop, and- “Oh, no... Clark!” she moaned as everything was suddenly wet, her legs and feet soaked in her pajamas and slippers.
She heard his startled gasp.
Christmas or not, their baby was coming.
* * * * *
Lois's room in the little hospital was insane with activity, nurses prepping her, a doctor - of whose incompetence she was convinced - examining her, Clark hovering nervously as he waited to hear the verdict.
“You are fully dilated and effaced, Missus Kent,” the old country doctor pronounced cheekily, rising and patting her on the foot. “As soon as we finish getting you hooked up here, we can get started!”
“That's Lane-Kent, you moron,” she snapped hellishly as the pain of another contraction gripped her. “And I think it's pretty clear that things have started of their own volition!”
The doctor only ignored her, smiling as he stepped out of the room, and Lois turned on Clark, “You'd better get Dr. Hamilton out here right the hell now, Kent, before I disembowel somebody. I swear to God, there will be blood in this room, and it won't be mine!”
One of the nurses giggled behind a hand, earning a glare of 'Mad Dog Lane' proportions.
“Okay, okay,” he soothed, stroking her hair for the hundredth time in a half-hour. “I already called him once to let him know what's happening. He's gonna meet me at the lab so I can get what we need.” At her dangerous look, he added in a low voice, “We both decided it would be best not to bring him straight here. He's catching the next flight out.”
Not appeased, she slitted her eyes, flaring her nostrils with the pain, and hissed, “If they start poking and prodding her, they could make things worse, Clark. You know that.”
Clark couldn't stop his face twisting up with anguish at the terror in her voice. “I know,” he whispered as one of the nurses finished securing her IV, then moved away. When he glanced at the clock, he sighed. “Okay, he should be there by now. I'll send Ma in to sit with you, and I'll be back in less than five minutes.”
The painful look she gave him then held every bit of hope she could muster, every fear of 'what could happen'. The sonic boom a moment later made all those possibilities seem more real and close than ever.
* * * * *
Twenty minutes later, Lois had cursed every medical professional in the entire United States for the pain she was in, had banished Clark to the seventh level of Hell, and, as far as the doctor could tell, had spoken in at least three tongues. Clark counted his blessings that the old man didn't know either Kryptonian or Lois's special brand of cursing that had appropriated specialties from every continent. He'd be truly shocked.
Language aside, the expectant father was thanking every god he knew of that he was invulnerable. Lois should have at least put his eye out and torn his arms to shreds by now. Even with all his abilities, he couldn't stop her from tearing the bed up, couldn't keep her from threatening to beat the doctor within an inch of his life, couldn't take her pain on himself.
Couldn't undo what had already been done.
All he could do was hold her hand and try to keep her calm, as even he knew that her raging was a front for the immeasurable heartache she felt at the grim future their little girl might now face.
His own heart ripped further as he squeezed her hand again, letting her roar at him as tears streamed down her face, her eyes shutting tight once again to push.
When the doctor announced that a tiny, nearly-bald head had appeared at last, Lois cried out, her anguish keening and echoing over the flurry of motion in the room.
Clark rubbed the muscles of her neck with his free hand. “One more big push, Lois,” he breathed, knowing not to coddle her; she'd warned him against it from the get-go, and he valued his life enough to heed her words. “She's almost here.”
Another deep breath, face contorting and eyes squeezing shut, hand clenching and nails digging in, squeezing, pushing, and...
Nothing.
Quiet filled the room for the span of several heartbeats, breaths held. Then...
“Here she is!” the old doctor pronounced, the nurses chorusing in their awe and congratulations. He suctioned out her mouth and nose before holding her up high for the new parents to see and laying her tiny, quiet form on Lois's belly.
Whimpering between breaths, Lois nearly collapsed sideways into Clark's arms, finally managing to bring trembling hands up to hold their baby as a nurse wiped the worst of the fluids from her. Tiny fingers flexed as little arms and legs shivered.
“Oh, God... Clark... is she-?”
The little chest rose, and a tiny, shuddering cry escaped the infant's mouth at last.
It was the most perfect, beautiful thing either of them had ever heard.
Exhausted, Lois finally burst into tears, Clark following suit not long after as he held his wife and their daughter in what should have been the strongest embrace in the world.
* * * * *
“Was I that little when I was born?” Jason asked as he peered into the incubator at his little sister, his small, six-year-old body lost in the medical gown required for entrance to the NICU.
Lois smiled faintly at him from her wheelchair. “You were even smaller. About two pounds. Your sister is almost five pounds. And you were connected to a lot more tubes and wires.” For this, she hadn't stopped thanking God or whoever was listening. She wouldn't have believed three extra weeks of gestation could have made that much of a difference. As it was, her baby was more than a pound heavier than she'd been at her last check-up only two weeks prior.
Dr. Hamilton would be pleased. If he would ever get there.
Watching the mid-afternoon sun streaming in the window and caressing their little girl's tiny face, Lois sighed. She'd tried so hard to carry her to term, following every precaution Dr. Hamilton had laid out for her. Bed rest, working - to Perry's grumbling displeasure - from home, taking every vitamin supplement known to man, laying in the sun for hours at a time, despite the colder weather. But none of it seemed to have held off the inevitable. It seemed... seemed as if she and Clark were just not meant to have full-term babies.
The thought of future children crossed her mind, as it often did. Would they all be premature and destined for health problems?
The pit of her stomach twisted at the prospect, and she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she met Clark's wide-eyed gaze. “Is he here yet?”
“His flight just landed. He'll be here in an hour or so, depending on traffic.” He looked at their tiny daughter. “Any improvement?”
Lois sighed, “As soon as we put her in the sun, her breathing eased up. The nurse said she might not need much more oxygen.” Another thing she wouldn't have believed if she hadn't seen it. But then, Clark injecting their infant with a serum Dr. Hamilton had developed from Clark's own blood, so quickly no one had seen, had been a risky move, whose full benefits remained to be seen.
“That's good news.” She could hear the relief ringing like a bell in his voice; the serum, loaded with the cellular machinery necessary to jump start her Kryptonian physiology, might actually be working.
Turning from the incubator, Jason cocked his head to one side. “Are you gonna tell us her name yet, or what?”
Now it was Clark's turn to smile. “Soon, kiddo,” he said, keeping the promise he'd made to Lois not to tell anyone until she said so.
Lois grasped his hand and squeezed, their daughter's name dancing on her tongue, held in place only by the terror that if it were spoken before she could hold her baby in her arms again, something... something would go wrong. It was irrational, unfounded, and superstitious, completely illogical. But for some reason, Lois just couldn't shake her dread.
* * * * *
Two hours later, their personal physician finally made his appearance, looking harried as he swept into the NICU, producing his credentials for the wary staff. The sun was low on the horizon, still managing to lay a finger of light over the baby's tiny face.
“Oh, my, she's precious,” he gasped as he slid up behind the waiting parents, Martha and Jason having gone back to the farm to bring Lois some clothes.
Lois eyed him expectantly, wishing he'd hurry up and give them some news. “About time you got here,” she complained nervously. Despite the gradual improvement in her daughter's condition, she refused to let herself get too excited, all too familiar with waiting for good news for days, weeks at a time. In a chair beside her, Clark only gulped, afraid to say anything until Hamilton had finished looking over their baby's chart. “Well?” Lois said.
“Hmm!” the old scientist responded, eyebrows raised as he scrutinized the chart. He looked up from it to Clark and Lois, his expression more positive than anything they'd seen all day. “When did you give her the serum?” he asked in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Twelve twenty-one,” Clark supplied.
“Excellent!” Hamilton grinned, setting the chart back in place. “It looks like it's working even better than expected!”
Lois glanced down at the tiny, sleeping baby, little chest rising with even breaths. She wouldn't have dared hope...
“You mean...” Clark started.
“I mean she'll be fine! I'll need to give her a few more doses of the serum at regular intervals, since her own kryptoplasts aren't functional yet, and we'll want to monitor her closely, but... if she continues to improve at this rate, you may very well be able to take her home in less than a week!”
Lois slumped back in her wheelchair, her chest decompressing and the sum of her fears dissipating, heart swelling with hope she'd refused to let herself feel. Clark's arms wrapped around her, pulling her in tight. “Merry Christmas, Lois,” he breathed into her hair, as fresh tears spilled forth down her cheeks.
* * * * *
Struggling with fitful dreams, Lois finally gave up on trying to get any more rest and opened her eyes to face the early morning sunlight of Christmas day. Waking in a small hospital in a cold bed was the not how she imagined spending the holidays. There should have been cookies and muffins, fruit slices and rich, spiced coffee, twinkling lights and mistletoe, presents and laughter, not this sterile environment and the vague hope that they could take their baby home before New Year's. Not the shock of their little girl deciding she just couldn't wait to get out and make herself known to the world.
She hadn't even managed to finish wrapping Clark and Jason's presents, for Pete's sake!
It made Lois want to bust out in tears again.
And where the hell was Clark, anyway?
At the thought, impeccable timing brought her husband through the door, carrying two steaming cups of coffee. The aroma was enough to wipe just about every worry from Lois's mind; coffee made everything in life bearable. Coffee and Clark. The world could keep spinning.
“You sure you don't read minds?” she teased, sitting up fully as he handed her a cup, leaning down to brush a kiss over the crown of her head.
“Pretty sure,” he smiled back. Settling in the chair next to her bed, he took in a deep breath. “Been down to the NICU. Lois... she's beautiful. Lar-”
“Shh!” she pressed a finger over his lips. “Not yet. Not until I can hold her again.” The thought of saying her name, when she didn't have her infant secure in her arms, still left her with a feeling of dread. Stupid superstition, she scolded herself.
Clark sighed, “Okay. She is doing so much better than we thought. Dr. Hamilton's been watching her almost all night, just about crowded the NICU staff out of their own ward.”
Lois couldn't help a chuckle at the image of 'mother hen Hamilton'. When he'd promised to do everything in his power to ensure their infant's health, he'd meant it!
“And, Lois... she's put on almost six ounces since yesterday. They... want you to try to feed her today.”
“That's physically impossible... isn't it?” Lois shook her head. “And... I don't think I have anything to feed her!” Tugging at the collar of her hospital gown, she peeked down at her breasts. They hadn't had a chance to fill at all.
“That's okay,” Clark laughed. “I'm sure we'll make do, somehow.”
As they chuckled in relief, a knock sounded on the door.
“Merry Christmas, you two!” Martha came in, Jason trailing behind her, both wearing wry grins. Greetings were exchanged along with hugs, Jason jumping up to snuggle against his Mom for a few moments as they lamented not being at home to unwrap gifts. A vague lack of Christmas spirit seemed to settle in for a moment, until Martha produced a tin and popped off the lid. “Thought you might enjoy a few cookies. I didn't have a chance to get these to the Ladies Auxiliary, so they're all ours!”
Starving, Lois dug straight in, coming up with a star-topped Christmas tree-shaped sugar cookie. For a second she stared at it, her odd reverie from the previous afternoon renewing itself. So much had happened...
* * * * *
A short while later, when Martha clapped her hands, “Well! I think it's about time we went down to see our little bundle of joy, isn't it!” something in the twinkle in her eyes told Lois something was up.
Something was indeed up, as she discovered the moment they wheeled her into the NICU. The twinkling lights and greenery she'd been missing were everywhere, red and golden ornaments shining on a small tree in one corner, festive music playing on a radio somewhere. It was everything she'd wished for, sunlight even managing to find a way in another window to land on their daughter's incubator like a beacon to call the world to rejoice in her birth.
Lois couldn't help but find the symbolism wholly ironic.
Dr. Hamilton met them at the incubator, all smiles and seemingly vibrating with enthusiasm. “Good morning! Merry Christmas,” he greeted them, shaking Clark's hand. “I have some very good news for you!”
The little family waited, all eyes on the old scientist.
“After four serum treatments, it looks like her immune system is in perfect working order.”
The pronouncement was met with a whimper of disbelief from Lois and a heavy sigh from Clark. The worst of their fears was alleviated; their daughter was healthy, wouldn't ever have to know the nightmare Jason had suffered for years.
“And!” Hamilton continued with a pointed index finger, “All her vitals are well within normal ranges for a full-term newborn. You can take her home tomorrow, if you'd like.”
Jason's whooping cheer as he bounced excitedly spoke for all of them, the little family laughing and grinning, the impossible seeming at last to be true.
After hugs and congratulations were given around, Hamilton moving off to give them time to let the news sink in and a nurse coming to begin to bring the baby out of the incubator for them to hold, Jason finally stilled and smiled up at his parents. “Can we have Christmas now? 'Cuz I've been waiting a long time.”
“Absolutely,”Lois smiled.
At that, Jason cheered again, and he and Martha disappeared for a moment, coming back with arm loads of wrapped gifts, all things Lois was sure came from the farm. “You brought all that here!?” she said, not quite believing it all.
Clark nuzzled her hair from the chair beside her, and Martha smirked, “Well, we thought, since we couldn't have Christmas at home, we might as well have it here.”
She turned to her husband. “This was your idea, wasn't it?”
“Nope. You can thank your son for the idea,” he beamed, happy to let his pride in his son shine through. “He masterminded the whole thing.”
“Jason!” she grinned at the little boy as he offered her a small box to open. “What did I ever do to get such a fantastic kid, huh?” She kissed him on top of his head.
“Open it!” he urged her.
“Okay, okay, hold your horses!” Quickly, she untied the ribbon and slid the top off the box, then parted the tissue paper tucked inside.
A gasp escaped her.
Eyes wide and mouth agape, she lifted the little Christmas ornament from the box, the glittering gold of a star in the hands of a tiny angel catching the light. “Oh, Jason!” she breathed. “Did you know about this, Clark?”
He shook his head mutely.
“It's for her. There's a marker so you can write her name on it,” the little boy explained. “That way, she can have her own ornament on the tree at home.
With a sudden grin, Lois took up the marker and started writing on the star, hiding it from sight as she wrote, and guarding the final product as the nurse finally placed the tiny infant in her arms. “Hey, little girl. Merry Christmas,” she breathed, cuddling the wide-eyed baby close to her, little blue orbs twinkling their own brilliance as miniature fingers reached up to grasp aimlessly. Holding the ornament for all to see at last, she announced, “Welcome to the world, Lara Elinore Eve Lane-Kent.” She looked up to meet Clark's confused expression. “I know it's not what we decided, but... she was born on Christmas Eve, so... I thought it fit.”
Clark grinned, feeling like he could soar all the way to the sun and back in the blink of an eye. “It's perfect, Lois. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Clark,” she whispered back, leaning sideways against his chest as his arms wrapped around her and their daughter. Indeed, it was the best Christmas she could have hoped for. After the overwhelming year they'd had, the immense loss they'd suffered with Richard's death, life had been renewed after all, tiny promise shining at them from the bundle in Lois's arms. “Merry Christmas to us all.”
* * * * *
Category: Superman Returns
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5,999
Prompt: (for 12days_of_clois #002 - making sugar cookies
Summary: Christmas is coming early for the Lane-Kent family.
Spoilers: for "One Night at the Planet" and "One Night at Riverside Drive"
Disclaimer: DC and WB own it all. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes: This is the third story in the "One Night" series. The fic grew from one night, to several days and nights, though, hence the title change. :p You don't have to have read either of the other two to enjoy this story. The general idea is that Clark and Lois are now married, and Richard is dead, from a combination of drugs and a tragic incident. FTR, I have no first-hand knowledge of the primary topic of this fic, please don't kill me if I've gotten anything wrong! O_O Also, I have to admit this was a little rushed toward the end, since I wanted to get it done before my birthday officially kicks off, and meet my Dc. 13th deadline for 12days_of_clois. I plan on lengthening the story considerably to flesh it out later (darned word count restriction! :p). In the mean time, enjoy! ^_^
One Christmas at the Kent Farm
With the third snow of the winter already settling onto the fields surrounding the old farmhouse, the sun setting at its early winter hour, the Lane/Kent family was warm inside with cups of hot cocoa and plenty of holiday preparations to keep them busy for at least a few more hours into the evening. Just two days left until Christmas - their first together as a new family - and Martha had conveniently left the bulk of the decorating for Clark, Lois, and Jason to arrive so they could all do it together.
As Lois took a break from separating ornaments to hang on the tree, absolutely exhausted, Clark and Jason laughed and carried on in the kitchen with Martha, cutting out gingerbread cookies to bake. Lively holiday music played on the radio over the old television, and sweetly spiced candles burned around the living room, filling the farmhouse with the scents of cinnamon, eggnog, and cranberry. With her feet toasty in fuzzy slippers, Lois was pretty sure the entire scene was perfect.
Well, just shy of perfect, anyway. Really, only two things could have made her happier, despite the rushing to get things done. If Richard were still around, Jason might not be so prone to fits of occasional melancholy, Clark not quite so damned cautious about everything. The second thing... She groaned as she settled back into the couch, sliding out of her slippers and propping her feet up on a pillow.
At the sound of her discomfort, Clark came around from the kitchen, wiping flour from his hands onto his jeans. “Lois?” he looked at her questioningly, coming quickly to her side and brushing her hair back from her face to tuck it behind her ear. “Do you need anything?”
She glared at him dangerously as she shifted, setting her cocoa down on the coffee table. “Yeah, I need to get this baby out of me, so I can get up and stop being a bump on a log,” she grumbled, before reaching up to meet Clark's kiss, his fingers brushing her cheek. Grabbing his hand with her own, she leaned her forehead against his. “How in the world am I supposed to endure six more whole weeks of this!?” she whimpered, tempering Mad Dog Lane with pure annoyance.
Clark chuckled lightly as he knelt next to her, laying his free hand across her quite swollen belly. “By sheer will,” he smirked, and leaned in to give her another kiss. “I know you hate bed rest, but-”
“But Dr. Hamilton's orders, blah, blah, blah. I know,” she rolled her eyes, her brow furrowed. “Mmph,” she winced then, moving to press and rub the side of her belly with a palm. “Not only am I a land barge, I'm apparently an indoor soccer field. Your daughter has a harder kick than Jason ever did.”
A grin spread across Clark's face at that, and Lois was pretty sure their unborn child already had him wrapped around her tiny, tiny finger. Laying his head gently over her belly, he dropped kisses on the place above where he knew their daughter's head rested. “I bet you take after your mother,” he whispered warmly.
It was Lois's turn to smirk. “I'd say that's a pretty safe assumption, considering the way she's got you crooning to her and telling her Kryptonian fairy tales.”
Huffing seriously, Clark retorted, “They're not fairy tales. They're epic legends. Big difference.”
“Ha. There was a princess. Give it up, Kent.”
Clark sighed, nuzzling her belly some more. “All right, all right. I give. They're fairy tales.” The besotted sparkle in his jewel-blue eyes told Lois all she needed to know as he continued, “She'll have the entire Planet eating out of her hand and trembling before her presence the moment we introduce her to the staff, you know.”
“No doubt,” Lois agreed happily. “Now get off me. I'm getting a leg cramp, and I want my cocoa.”
“Yes ma'am,” Clark smiled, rising from her side. With another brush of his hand across her belly, he asked, “You're sure you don't need anything?”
Lois cocked her head to the side and thought for a moment. “How about some of that gingerbread cookie dough? Molasses sounds really good right now.”
* * * * *
The next morning the fields around the old farmhouse glistened with at least six inches of snow, sparkling in the cold Kansas sunlight. It was all Lois could do to keep Jason from heading out to play in it without at least putting on a coat and gloves, as excited at the seven-year-old was, until Clark finally returned from dealing with a flash flood in Colorado in time to intercept their son at the door.
“Whoa, kiddo! Wait for me, will ya?” he chuckled as he twirled the little boy around to deposit him back in the living room, his uniform looking a little worse for wear from the morning's activities.
“You're gonna come out and play, too?” Jason grinned widely.
“Of course! Why don't you go wait for me on the porch, and I'll get changed and put on a coat so we can have a good, old-fashioned snowball fight.
“Yaaayyy!!!” their son bounced excitedly, skipping back out of the living room and through the front door to wait.
Lois just shook her head at his energy from her spot on the couch, wishing she could muster some up herself to at least get changed out of her pajamas. When Clark bent down to kiss her forehead, she asked, “Everything go okay?” Tilting her head up, she managed to snag an actual kiss before he stood up again.
“For the most part. It wasn't as bad as it looked at first.”
“That's good.” She glanced toward the kitchen. “Your Mom is making more cookies,” she cautioned. “I have the feeling we'll be eating sugar cookies for the next month.”
Clark couldn't help but chuckle warmly at the face Lois made at the prospect of a never-ending supply of cookies. “Well, Jason and I should have no problem with them. Super metabolism, remember?”
“How could I forget?” she smirked in return, reaching up underneath his cape to swat him on his toned behind. “Now scoot. Your son is waiting to go outside, and I've got presents to finish wrapping.”
“As you wish,” Clark whispered as he bent down to kiss the crown of her head, before heading upstairs to change into weather-appropriate clothes.
“And no peeking!” she called after him as he disappeared up the stairs.
Alone again and feeling more uncomfortable than ever, Lois leaned back into the couch and rubbed at her belly, eying the pile of wrapping paper and assorted bows and tags heaped on the coffee table. She hoped her two boys could keep themselves occupied long enough for her to drag out their gifts and get them finished.
Alternatively, she hoped they could keep themselves busy long enough for her to sneak into the kitchen and help Martha with the cookies. Anything to get off the damn couch for a while.
* * * * *
Outside, Clark surveyed the lay of the land to set up a strategic position from which to launch his snowball assault. In the interest of fairness, however, he pointed Jason to the best spot to launch his own assault; right behind the old tractor, the rusted vehicle buried up to the center of its wheels.
“That's your best best,” he explained, kneeling next to his son. “Stay mostly hidden behind it, and keep your snowballs stacked out of the line of sight.”
“Gotcha,” Jason nodded, scampering through the snow to set up his position.
Satisfied, Clark grinned, and headed in the other direction to hunker down behind the chicken coop. A furious round of snowball prep later, he let the first volley fly, his cry triumphant, “Ready or not!”
Squeals of laughter followed from the opposing camp as Jason popped up with his own two-fisted attack, launching one after the other in his Dad's direction.
Clark ducked just in time as the second ball sped by his head to crash into the field behind him. “Close, but no cigar!” he cried out.
“Oh, yeah!”
Another volley came right after the first, but Clark was ready with his own, clipping Jason's shoulder and showering the little boy with snow as another ball slammed into the steering wheel of the tractor and exploded in glistening brilliance.
Before long it was all-out war, peals of laughter and shrieks of surprise interspersed with victorious cries as the pair pelted each other with snowballs, the casualties melting in their hair and on their faces, Jason's now rosy pink as he intermittently shook himself clear of the debris. The battle seemed to wage for hours, until Clark charged out from behind the chicken coop, ammunition in each hand. “Take no prisoners!” he cried out as Jason ducked behind the tractor with a yelp.
Coming around the buried vehicle, Clark hit his target dead center, finally tackling the little boy and sweeping him up in his arms. “Haha! I've got you now!”
Jason squealed in delight and rubbed more snow into Clark's hair in return as they crashed to the ground. “No fair!” he protested. “You crossed enemy lines!”
“Everything's fair in snowball war, kiddo!”
* * * * *
“What are you doing up, dear?” Martha scolded Lois lightly when the younger woman shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing the underside of her belly absently.
Lois shrugged, “Just needed to get up and move. Thought I might help you with some cookies.”
“I see that wicked gleam in your eyes,” the older woman teased, waving a wooden spoon to make her point. Then she chuckled. “Have a seat and you can help me cut out these sugar cookies. I'm taking this batch to the church's Ladies Auxiliary for the county homeless shelter this afternoon.”
The reporter in Lois perked up as she plopped ungracefully into one of the old chairs at the table. “Oh, that sounds wonderful. I bet it'll be a nice treat for them all to serve fresh home-baked cookies instead of that preserved stuff.” She couldn't help it if she sounded a little more sentimental than she otherwise might have been, between the hormones and the obvious fact that it was Christmas, and for once, she didn't care. Who needed to protect an image when they looked like a beached whale?
“Exactly,” Martha nodded as she went back to rolling out the dough on a large cookie sheet. “Here we go,” she said at last, carrying the tray, along with an extra tray and some festive cookie cutters to the table.
Lois eyed the selection of cutters carefully. A star, a candy cane, a bell, and a Christmas tree. Her hand hovered over the cutters for a moment, then she plucked up the tree shape, getting right to work. A comfortable silence stretched between the two women as they cut out cookies and laid them on the other tray, Lois cutting out trees and Martha stars, which she placed nearly atop the trees to go in the oven.
When the tray was filled, Martha exchanged it for fresh one, setting the timer on the first batch, and again they set to work cutting cookies.
Through the several batches the women cut out to bake, Lois allowed her mind to wander. A year ago she was buying store bought cookies with Richard, having a mental breakdown over the way things seemed to be going between them, and wondering if Jason's real father was ever planning to man up and be there for him, wondering whether Kal-El had any intentions of even seeing his own son on Christmas. She was stressed, exhausted, worried, and angry. And if that wasn't enough, Jason was having a fit with his asthma. All on Christmas Eve.
What a difference a year had made.
Now she was here, sitting in Clark's mother's kitchen, making real, honest-to-goodness sugar cookies. Clark and Jason were out playing in the snow - if the squealing laughter was any indication, they were probably having a snowball fight - and she was weeks away from delivering her second child.
What on Earth did I do to deserve all this?
“Lois?”
Martha's lean fingers covered her own for a moment, and the younger woman looked up from where she realized she'd been staring at the same cookie for who knows how long. “Huh? Oh. I...” Absently, she swiped a hand over her cheek, her fingers coming away wet. “Uh, sorry,” she mumbled.
But Martha wasn't deterred. “It's quite all right. Are you okay?”
Lois nodded surely, her hair bouncing around her shoulders. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just... thinking. Guess I... I've been a little overwhelmed by everything. This last year, I mean...” She shook her head, blinking heavily, then spoke more quietly, “A lot's happened.” She didn't even want to think about what had happened to Richard, the shell he'd become, the way he'd attacked her... the way he'd died. It shouldn't have happened. Not that she placed any blame on Clark, but someone should have known what was happening to Richard and stopped it.
“I'm sorry,” Martha whispered, wise understanding in her eyes as if she'd picked the thoughts right from Lois's head.
“I... thank you,” Lois finally said, smiling faintly. She chuckled, trying to sweep aside her darker thoughts. “And now with all these baby preparations! I don't know how I'm ever gonna get it all done, seeing how I'm confined to the couch most of the time!”
“Oh, dear, you know I understand, well, mostly. the older woman patted her hand and winked at her as she focused her attentions back on the cookie tray. “The year we found Clark was quite the doozie. Imagine me and Jonathan, out shopping for clothes, toys, everything we needed for a tiny little boy, not having any idea what...”
Lois relaxed into hearing the story, getting back to work on the cookies, and just as she picked up the tree-shaped cutter, a squeezing pain froze her entire body. “Gaaahhh!!!” she groaned, her hands flying to her belly as fire seemed to erupt somewhere deep inside. “Oh, no... nonononononoNO!!” she managed as she sat back from the table, eyes squeezed shut against the painful clenching of muscles she'd been doing her damnedest to keep quiet.
“Lois?” Martha breathed, eyes wide as she stood from her chair and came to Lois's side. “Clark!!!”
* * * * *
Tumbling in the snow well after the formal snowball fight was over, Jason squirmed away from his Dad's tickles, throwing icy flakes everywhere, but especially at Clark. “You can't win!” the little boy roared, before his mocking laugh descended into giggles again.
All at once, the laughing grin dropped off of his Dad's face, Clark freezing, then rising from the ground in a blur. Jason found himself alone in the snow before he knew what was happening.
* * * * *
The sharp pressure was almost blinding in intensity. Lois could hardly breathe, couldn't move, and when the door to the farmhouse burst inward, nearly coming off its hinges, she cringed a little more into herself, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Lois!” Clark was beside her at once, broad palm stroking the already sweat-soaked hair back from her face. “Lois, talk to me!”
All she could do was clench her jaw and groan, feeling her uterus squeezing tightly, painfully.
She heard Martha on her other side, the older woman's voice seeming far away, “We should get her to the hospital, Clark.”
“Oh, no... Lois...” She felt his hand trembling as he cupped her face, and leaned into his touch, waiting for the pain to pass. “Lois?”
Finally, the pressure seemed to ease, and the world came back into focus. When she opened her eyes, breathing heavily, the panic stricken look on Clark's face as he watched her almost made her laugh in absurdity. “Heh. I... Damn, that hurt!”
He stroked her face again. “We'll take you to the county hospital, okay? Maybe this is just... false labor... like Dr. Hamilton said you might have... But we should be sure.”
She nodded weakly, praying he was right as memories of Jason's tiny form lying in an incubator flashed unwittingly before her eyes. “O-okay. Yeah.”
Shakily, she tried to stand, Clark and Martha steadying her on either side. “Easy now,” Martha encouraged. “I'll go get the car started. Clark, go slow with her.” Releasing Lois's arm, she moved to turn off the oven, grab her coat, and disappear out the front door.
Lois looked up in time to see Jason standing in the doorway, his eyes wide. “Mommy, are you okay?”
“Yeah, baby,” she sighed, holding onto Clark for dear life. She imagined he'd bruise from her grip if he wasn't invulnerable. “I'm just not feeling too well right now.”
“And we're just gonna take her to the hospital to make sure everything's all right, okay sport?” Clark's tone was clear and firm, the same as if he was assuring a victim of some disaster that they would be fine, even if they were bleeding out and on death's door, and it set part of Lois's mind into a greater state of alarm.
Halfway down the steps from the porch, Lois felt another contraction starting - far too soon to just be false labor. “Clark...” she warned before digging her nails into his arm through his light coat, the pain returning with seeming vengeance. She felt a pop, and- “Oh, no... Clark!” she moaned as everything was suddenly wet, her legs and feet soaked in her pajamas and slippers.
She heard his startled gasp.
Christmas or not, their baby was coming.
* * * * *
Lois's room in the little hospital was insane with activity, nurses prepping her, a doctor - of whose incompetence she was convinced - examining her, Clark hovering nervously as he waited to hear the verdict.
“You are fully dilated and effaced, Missus Kent,” the old country doctor pronounced cheekily, rising and patting her on the foot. “As soon as we finish getting you hooked up here, we can get started!”
“That's Lane-Kent, you moron,” she snapped hellishly as the pain of another contraction gripped her. “And I think it's pretty clear that things have started of their own volition!”
The doctor only ignored her, smiling as he stepped out of the room, and Lois turned on Clark, “You'd better get Dr. Hamilton out here right the hell now, Kent, before I disembowel somebody. I swear to God, there will be blood in this room, and it won't be mine!”
One of the nurses giggled behind a hand, earning a glare of 'Mad Dog Lane' proportions.
“Okay, okay,” he soothed, stroking her hair for the hundredth time in a half-hour. “I already called him once to let him know what's happening. He's gonna meet me at the lab so I can get what we need.” At her dangerous look, he added in a low voice, “We both decided it would be best not to bring him straight here. He's catching the next flight out.”
Not appeased, she slitted her eyes, flaring her nostrils with the pain, and hissed, “If they start poking and prodding her, they could make things worse, Clark. You know that.”
Clark couldn't stop his face twisting up with anguish at the terror in her voice. “I know,” he whispered as one of the nurses finished securing her IV, then moved away. When he glanced at the clock, he sighed. “Okay, he should be there by now. I'll send Ma in to sit with you, and I'll be back in less than five minutes.”
The painful look she gave him then held every bit of hope she could muster, every fear of 'what could happen'. The sonic boom a moment later made all those possibilities seem more real and close than ever.
* * * * *
Twenty minutes later, Lois had cursed every medical professional in the entire United States for the pain she was in, had banished Clark to the seventh level of Hell, and, as far as the doctor could tell, had spoken in at least three tongues. Clark counted his blessings that the old man didn't know either Kryptonian or Lois's special brand of cursing that had appropriated specialties from every continent. He'd be truly shocked.
Language aside, the expectant father was thanking every god he knew of that he was invulnerable. Lois should have at least put his eye out and torn his arms to shreds by now. Even with all his abilities, he couldn't stop her from tearing the bed up, couldn't keep her from threatening to beat the doctor within an inch of his life, couldn't take her pain on himself.
Couldn't undo what had already been done.
All he could do was hold her hand and try to keep her calm, as even he knew that her raging was a front for the immeasurable heartache she felt at the grim future their little girl might now face.
His own heart ripped further as he squeezed her hand again, letting her roar at him as tears streamed down her face, her eyes shutting tight once again to push.
When the doctor announced that a tiny, nearly-bald head had appeared at last, Lois cried out, her anguish keening and echoing over the flurry of motion in the room.
Clark rubbed the muscles of her neck with his free hand. “One more big push, Lois,” he breathed, knowing not to coddle her; she'd warned him against it from the get-go, and he valued his life enough to heed her words. “She's almost here.”
Another deep breath, face contorting and eyes squeezing shut, hand clenching and nails digging in, squeezing, pushing, and...
Nothing.
Quiet filled the room for the span of several heartbeats, breaths held. Then...
“Here she is!” the old doctor pronounced, the nurses chorusing in their awe and congratulations. He suctioned out her mouth and nose before holding her up high for the new parents to see and laying her tiny, quiet form on Lois's belly.
Whimpering between breaths, Lois nearly collapsed sideways into Clark's arms, finally managing to bring trembling hands up to hold their baby as a nurse wiped the worst of the fluids from her. Tiny fingers flexed as little arms and legs shivered.
“Oh, God... Clark... is she-?”
The little chest rose, and a tiny, shuddering cry escaped the infant's mouth at last.
It was the most perfect, beautiful thing either of them had ever heard.
Exhausted, Lois finally burst into tears, Clark following suit not long after as he held his wife and their daughter in what should have been the strongest embrace in the world.
* * * * *
“Was I that little when I was born?” Jason asked as he peered into the incubator at his little sister, his small, six-year-old body lost in the medical gown required for entrance to the NICU.
Lois smiled faintly at him from her wheelchair. “You were even smaller. About two pounds. Your sister is almost five pounds. And you were connected to a lot more tubes and wires.” For this, she hadn't stopped thanking God or whoever was listening. She wouldn't have believed three extra weeks of gestation could have made that much of a difference. As it was, her baby was more than a pound heavier than she'd been at her last check-up only two weeks prior.
Dr. Hamilton would be pleased. If he would ever get there.
Watching the mid-afternoon sun streaming in the window and caressing their little girl's tiny face, Lois sighed. She'd tried so hard to carry her to term, following every precaution Dr. Hamilton had laid out for her. Bed rest, working - to Perry's grumbling displeasure - from home, taking every vitamin supplement known to man, laying in the sun for hours at a time, despite the colder weather. But none of it seemed to have held off the inevitable. It seemed... seemed as if she and Clark were just not meant to have full-term babies.
The thought of future children crossed her mind, as it often did. Would they all be premature and destined for health problems?
The pit of her stomach twisted at the prospect, and she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she met Clark's wide-eyed gaze. “Is he here yet?”
“His flight just landed. He'll be here in an hour or so, depending on traffic.” He looked at their tiny daughter. “Any improvement?”
Lois sighed, “As soon as we put her in the sun, her breathing eased up. The nurse said she might not need much more oxygen.” Another thing she wouldn't have believed if she hadn't seen it. But then, Clark injecting their infant with a serum Dr. Hamilton had developed from Clark's own blood, so quickly no one had seen, had been a risky move, whose full benefits remained to be seen.
“That's good news.” She could hear the relief ringing like a bell in his voice; the serum, loaded with the cellular machinery necessary to jump start her Kryptonian physiology, might actually be working.
Turning from the incubator, Jason cocked his head to one side. “Are you gonna tell us her name yet, or what?”
Now it was Clark's turn to smile. “Soon, kiddo,” he said, keeping the promise he'd made to Lois not to tell anyone until she said so.
Lois grasped his hand and squeezed, their daughter's name dancing on her tongue, held in place only by the terror that if it were spoken before she could hold her baby in her arms again, something... something would go wrong. It was irrational, unfounded, and superstitious, completely illogical. But for some reason, Lois just couldn't shake her dread.
* * * * *
Two hours later, their personal physician finally made his appearance, looking harried as he swept into the NICU, producing his credentials for the wary staff. The sun was low on the horizon, still managing to lay a finger of light over the baby's tiny face.
“Oh, my, she's precious,” he gasped as he slid up behind the waiting parents, Martha and Jason having gone back to the farm to bring Lois some clothes.
Lois eyed him expectantly, wishing he'd hurry up and give them some news. “About time you got here,” she complained nervously. Despite the gradual improvement in her daughter's condition, she refused to let herself get too excited, all too familiar with waiting for good news for days, weeks at a time. In a chair beside her, Clark only gulped, afraid to say anything until Hamilton had finished looking over their baby's chart. “Well?” Lois said.
“Hmm!” the old scientist responded, eyebrows raised as he scrutinized the chart. He looked up from it to Clark and Lois, his expression more positive than anything they'd seen all day. “When did you give her the serum?” he asked in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Twelve twenty-one,” Clark supplied.
“Excellent!” Hamilton grinned, setting the chart back in place. “It looks like it's working even better than expected!”
Lois glanced down at the tiny, sleeping baby, little chest rising with even breaths. She wouldn't have dared hope...
“You mean...” Clark started.
“I mean she'll be fine! I'll need to give her a few more doses of the serum at regular intervals, since her own kryptoplasts aren't functional yet, and we'll want to monitor her closely, but... if she continues to improve at this rate, you may very well be able to take her home in less than a week!”
Lois slumped back in her wheelchair, her chest decompressing and the sum of her fears dissipating, heart swelling with hope she'd refused to let herself feel. Clark's arms wrapped around her, pulling her in tight. “Merry Christmas, Lois,” he breathed into her hair, as fresh tears spilled forth down her cheeks.
* * * * *
Struggling with fitful dreams, Lois finally gave up on trying to get any more rest and opened her eyes to face the early morning sunlight of Christmas day. Waking in a small hospital in a cold bed was the not how she imagined spending the holidays. There should have been cookies and muffins, fruit slices and rich, spiced coffee, twinkling lights and mistletoe, presents and laughter, not this sterile environment and the vague hope that they could take their baby home before New Year's. Not the shock of their little girl deciding she just couldn't wait to get out and make herself known to the world.
She hadn't even managed to finish wrapping Clark and Jason's presents, for Pete's sake!
It made Lois want to bust out in tears again.
And where the hell was Clark, anyway?
At the thought, impeccable timing brought her husband through the door, carrying two steaming cups of coffee. The aroma was enough to wipe just about every worry from Lois's mind; coffee made everything in life bearable. Coffee and Clark. The world could keep spinning.
“You sure you don't read minds?” she teased, sitting up fully as he handed her a cup, leaning down to brush a kiss over the crown of her head.
“Pretty sure,” he smiled back. Settling in the chair next to her bed, he took in a deep breath. “Been down to the NICU. Lois... she's beautiful. Lar-”
“Shh!” she pressed a finger over his lips. “Not yet. Not until I can hold her again.” The thought of saying her name, when she didn't have her infant secure in her arms, still left her with a feeling of dread. Stupid superstition, she scolded herself.
Clark sighed, “Okay. She is doing so much better than we thought. Dr. Hamilton's been watching her almost all night, just about crowded the NICU staff out of their own ward.”
Lois couldn't help a chuckle at the image of 'mother hen Hamilton'. When he'd promised to do everything in his power to ensure their infant's health, he'd meant it!
“And, Lois... she's put on almost six ounces since yesterday. They... want you to try to feed her today.”
“That's physically impossible... isn't it?” Lois shook her head. “And... I don't think I have anything to feed her!” Tugging at the collar of her hospital gown, she peeked down at her breasts. They hadn't had a chance to fill at all.
“That's okay,” Clark laughed. “I'm sure we'll make do, somehow.”
As they chuckled in relief, a knock sounded on the door.
“Merry Christmas, you two!” Martha came in, Jason trailing behind her, both wearing wry grins. Greetings were exchanged along with hugs, Jason jumping up to snuggle against his Mom for a few moments as they lamented not being at home to unwrap gifts. A vague lack of Christmas spirit seemed to settle in for a moment, until Martha produced a tin and popped off the lid. “Thought you might enjoy a few cookies. I didn't have a chance to get these to the Ladies Auxiliary, so they're all ours!”
Starving, Lois dug straight in, coming up with a star-topped Christmas tree-shaped sugar cookie. For a second she stared at it, her odd reverie from the previous afternoon renewing itself. So much had happened...
* * * * *
A short while later, when Martha clapped her hands, “Well! I think it's about time we went down to see our little bundle of joy, isn't it!” something in the twinkle in her eyes told Lois something was up.
Something was indeed up, as she discovered the moment they wheeled her into the NICU. The twinkling lights and greenery she'd been missing were everywhere, red and golden ornaments shining on a small tree in one corner, festive music playing on a radio somewhere. It was everything she'd wished for, sunlight even managing to find a way in another window to land on their daughter's incubator like a beacon to call the world to rejoice in her birth.
Lois couldn't help but find the symbolism wholly ironic.
Dr. Hamilton met them at the incubator, all smiles and seemingly vibrating with enthusiasm. “Good morning! Merry Christmas,” he greeted them, shaking Clark's hand. “I have some very good news for you!”
The little family waited, all eyes on the old scientist.
“After four serum treatments, it looks like her immune system is in perfect working order.”
The pronouncement was met with a whimper of disbelief from Lois and a heavy sigh from Clark. The worst of their fears was alleviated; their daughter was healthy, wouldn't ever have to know the nightmare Jason had suffered for years.
“And!” Hamilton continued with a pointed index finger, “All her vitals are well within normal ranges for a full-term newborn. You can take her home tomorrow, if you'd like.”
Jason's whooping cheer as he bounced excitedly spoke for all of them, the little family laughing and grinning, the impossible seeming at last to be true.
After hugs and congratulations were given around, Hamilton moving off to give them time to let the news sink in and a nurse coming to begin to bring the baby out of the incubator for them to hold, Jason finally stilled and smiled up at his parents. “Can we have Christmas now? 'Cuz I've been waiting a long time.”
“Absolutely,”Lois smiled.
At that, Jason cheered again, and he and Martha disappeared for a moment, coming back with arm loads of wrapped gifts, all things Lois was sure came from the farm. “You brought all that here!?” she said, not quite believing it all.
Clark nuzzled her hair from the chair beside her, and Martha smirked, “Well, we thought, since we couldn't have Christmas at home, we might as well have it here.”
She turned to her husband. “This was your idea, wasn't it?”
“Nope. You can thank your son for the idea,” he beamed, happy to let his pride in his son shine through. “He masterminded the whole thing.”
“Jason!” she grinned at the little boy as he offered her a small box to open. “What did I ever do to get such a fantastic kid, huh?” She kissed him on top of his head.
“Open it!” he urged her.
“Okay, okay, hold your horses!” Quickly, she untied the ribbon and slid the top off the box, then parted the tissue paper tucked inside.
A gasp escaped her.
Eyes wide and mouth agape, she lifted the little Christmas ornament from the box, the glittering gold of a star in the hands of a tiny angel catching the light. “Oh, Jason!” she breathed. “Did you know about this, Clark?”
He shook his head mutely.
“It's for her. There's a marker so you can write her name on it,” the little boy explained. “That way, she can have her own ornament on the tree at home.
With a sudden grin, Lois took up the marker and started writing on the star, hiding it from sight as she wrote, and guarding the final product as the nurse finally placed the tiny infant in her arms. “Hey, little girl. Merry Christmas,” she breathed, cuddling the wide-eyed baby close to her, little blue orbs twinkling their own brilliance as miniature fingers reached up to grasp aimlessly. Holding the ornament for all to see at last, she announced, “Welcome to the world, Lara Elinore Eve Lane-Kent.” She looked up to meet Clark's confused expression. “I know it's not what we decided, but... she was born on Christmas Eve, so... I thought it fit.”
Clark grinned, feeling like he could soar all the way to the sun and back in the blink of an eye. “It's perfect, Lois. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Clark,” she whispered back, leaning sideways against his chest as his arms wrapped around her and their daughter. Indeed, it was the best Christmas she could have hoped for. After the overwhelming year they'd had, the immense loss they'd suffered with Richard's death, life had been renewed after all, tiny promise shining at them from the bundle in Lois's arms. “Merry Christmas to us all.”
* * * * *