He knocked, lightly but persistently until the apartment door flew open to a bedraggled Linda. "Wha... Clark!"
"Oh, good. You're up."
"I only just got to sleep," she hissed, her eyes half-shut, "after washing five million coffee cups and crossing out some very wrong notes and..."
"Linda..."
"And she's still sleeping and if I want to be up when she wakes, then I need to get..."
He pulled her into the hallway. "Linda, Ollie will be here tomorrow. I thought you should know."
"What?" Her eyes went wide. "Well, he can't be. I... I'm not ready. He said he'd be here Wednesday and that's... more time than tomorrow."
"I think the sooner you..."
"No. See, I can't deal with this now. I mean, with Lois and her state, I really need to focus..."
"Damn it, Linda," Clark hissed. "You can't keep using Lois as an excuse to put off what you need to do."
Her mouth shut, then formed a thin, angry line. "How dare you imply that my concern for my cousin is... some kind of excuse?"
"I'm not saying that's all of it. But if a freight train crashed in Calcutta, you'd think that was a reason not to tell Ollie he's going to be a father."
"Well..." Her mouth opened and closed several times. "That would be tragic and I have no business... celebrating the beginning of life when tragic events..." She stiffened. "You don't know me."
"After all these years, Linda, I think I do. And I know Ollie. And I know that, whatever you're afraid of... It's not gonna be that way."
"Easy for you to say. Ollie's not like you. He can be hurt."
"He can also be careful, especially if... if he knows how badly he needs to be." She opened her mouth and he went on quickly. "And you won't have to worry he won't come home because there are at least four people who will do their damnedest to make sure he does. And I know that this kid, boy or girl, will have an entire team watching to see if he... or she... even sneezes. You can't bottle this up like you're alone in this. We're all here." He took her by the shoulders. "I'm here."
Her eyes softened slightly before she looked away. "Don't think I'm supposed to go all gooey like you're a hero just because you're wearing your stupid suit."
"I'm just saying that we're on the same team. I thought... I thought we established that."
"We did. I just... it's complicated with..."
"That goes for everything. For every part of this team. If you think I'm only there for you because of whose cousin you are, then..."
"I don't really think that. I..."
"Because we're all in this together. Whether it's memory loss or babies or...
She shook his hands off. "Jesus, Clark! Would you let me talk?"
He took a breath. "Okay."
"Clark, I..." She looked down. "I know we're on the same team. I might get a little... controlling sometimes."
"Sometimes?"
Her eyes snapped up. "Hey! I'm working on it. I've just been away from my therapist and you tend to slip back into old habits, especially if your body is running amok and..." She shook her head. "Listen, I didn't mean it when I said you wouldn't get a shift. I'll schedule you for tomorrow, whatever time you want."
He closed his eyes. "Linda... You can't have Lois wake up to shifts and guards. What she needs is... to wake up to friends. If what she said is true... If she can handle knowing, then... She just needs to know what she was... No." He squeezed her arm again. "What she is to us."
"Or to you..."
"You know that's not what this is ab..."
"No. I know." She sighed. "I might have some residual anger, but as I told you, I've been away from my therapist and I think I might need a little break just to gather my..."
"Linda," he cut in, wanting to keep her on track, something that seemed damned near impossible these days. "I know she's your only family. I know a lot of the... overreaction is because of that. But you have to know that it's not you and her against the world. We're all in this. And she's not a child. She deserves to be told the truth. What she does with it after... That's her decision." It hurt to even think it. That she might look at the lot of them, and especially him, and decide she wanted no parts. Up until he'd found traces of the chemicals on her clothing, he'd thought that was the choice she'd made with Grady. Now he wasn't sure how much choice was involved. But she'd have one now. "We can't control what she does. We can only... be there if she needs us."
"But she does need us. You see the state she got in when she was left to her own..."
"I'm not saying we stay away. I just... I just think we should respect her wishes, whatever they are," he finished sadly. There were some parts of the story that, he knew, might have her wishing him far away. "I think we should just... let her know we're here and let her take it from there." He resisted to urge to stare past Linda and through the wall. "How is she?"
"Still dead to the world," Linda said, shaking her head. "Which would worry me, except that I am hearing snores. But even that doesn't make me feel better because she was never much for snoring and that means sinus trouble and, at this time of year, she really should have gotten the flu shot. I always make sure I'm the first in line and..." She suddenly laughed. "My God. She could have a cold. Is it weird that that makes me happy?"
Clark stared at her. "Uh... A little."
"No. I mean, it's nice to... worry about normal things sometimes." She laughed again, then looked down. "See, we came here with you at death's door and this big conspiracy and... it's nice to have a problem that can be patched up with a little zinc and vitamin C. You get me?"
He smiled. "I think I do."
Linda stopped laughing, suddenly sniffling and wiping her eyes. "I get you, too. No guards. No shifts. But, I... I hope she doesn't want to be alone. I don't want her to be alone." She glanced up sharply. "And that's not about me. That's about her."
"Well, it's not like any of us are far away. And at least two of us could be here in seconds. We're all in this..."
"I know. We're all in this together. You're starting to sound like Ollie running for office. I get it. I do. Now... There's something I need you to do for me."
He nodded, figuring he'd given enough pep talks for the night.
"Go the heck home and let me get back to sleep. I'll be no good to anyone without some damned shut-eye." Her eyes narrowed. "Especially Martha. The poor thing is going to be lost with all this added stress. Aside from helping Lois, I should probably spend the greater part of tomorrow with her and..."
"And use that as another reason to not tell Ollie."
"No. That's not why. I mean, she needs to know I'm still on top of things and that her future career is secure in my hands because..."
Clark raised his eyebrows.
"Oh... shut up."
"I didn't say anything."
"You didn't need to." She frowned. "Fine. I'll tell him. But you realize that this is piling a lot on my to-do list for tomorrow and I can hardly..."
"It's not like you'll be caring for Lois, torturing volunteers, and telling your husband you're pregnant all at once. Just... do one thing at a time," he found himself saying, sort of surprised as he said it.
She sighed. "Guess I can try."
He nodded, feeling just a little self-satisfied. This must be how his mother felt every second, always having the answers. He stared past her to the door again. He was kidding himself there. "I don't have any answers," he found himself saying aloud. "I don't know what's going to happen. I just... I hate the idea of her thinking she was... less than she was."
"Tell me about it." Linda gestured to the door. "Do you know she has pages of notes on a possible affair with Lex Luthor?" Linda snorted as his fists clenched. "As if that's even possible."
"No. She'd never have an affair." But there was a little something there. A little something that still made him seethe, even to think about it. But he was the only one who knew that. Just as there were some things only Linda knew about her. There were all these pieces of her that they all had. These pieces that rightfully belonged to her. "We need to give them back," he said softly.
"Huh?" Linda stared up, her eyes half-closed, her body sagging against the door.
"Nothing." He shook his head. "I shouldn't keep you up. We'll talk tomorrow." He started down the hall.
"Yeah. I'll add it to the list." She yawned. "Clark?"
He turned back.
She smiled sleepily, a hand on her stomach. "It's good to have you on the team."
******************************
"Go team, Go!" a group of faceless girls were screaming, jumping up and down, pom-poms thrown in the air.
Lois didn't remember any plans to go to a football game. She could have sworn she'd just been at a party with a bunch of off-duty heroes. Since that was even weirder, she just went with this as one very loud girl shouted "Gooooooo TEAM!" from the top of a human pyramid.
Lois couldn't tell which team they were rooting for because they seemed to be refusing to say. And their sweaters were about as easy to read as their faces. She squinted.
"Won't do you any good." She turned to see an actual face beside her in the bleachers, her own, but younger, fuller, surrounded by flippy blonde locks. "It's not like you really know this stuff." She gestured around her. "This is just some idea of what high school's like, but you won't find anything real here."
"So... you're back?" She hadn't seen her in so long. Then again, she hadn't been sleeping much. Still, she'd thought it meant she was on the right track.
"You couldn't be more wrong about that track."
Lois turned fully to her. "Now you know what I think?"
"Duh." The girl waved a hand between them. "But you know about that." She shook her head. "I can't believe you think I belong here. In this mish-mosh of teen movies." She snorted and pointed ahead of her, where the game had disappeared and there was a... Carnival? A dark-haired guy and a blonde girl seemed to be on a funhouse ramp and... singing to each other? "Jeez. You took that one straight out of Grease." The girl giggled and skipped away.
"Well, what am I supposed to do? I don't..." Lois stood to follow, but the girl was gone. She turned back to the bleachers, only to find they seemed to have turned into a dais of some sort. A strawberry-blonde was smiling and clutching flowers. Lois glanced up in horror as a bucket tipped over in the rafters and...
She knew what came next. She ran... smack into the girl, this time shaking out a wet ponytail and toting a surfboard. "Gidget? Really?" She rolled her eyes and turned away. "We didn't even like that movie. Silly, tiny blonde girl running after tall, dark, and unaware of her existence. It's soooo cliche."
Lois kept after her this time. "I don't see why you're being so snarky with me. I figured it out, didn't I? Even you know we're a... we."
The girl dropped her surfboard and jumped into a booth, emerging behind the counter dry. "Ding, ding, ding. You get a prize." She held out what looked like a tiny doll of Superman.
Lois only stared at it.
"You don't want it? Look... pose-able limbs."
"I... don't know." She looked away from the action figure only to find the booth filled with more Supermen, plush ones, wind-up ones, even some in balloon form. "I don't even want to think about that now."
"Yeah, that's going to be a toughie." The girl leapt over the counter and grabbed Lois' arm, pulling her through a throng of faceless, laughing people... and just a few that looked like Brat Packers. "Can't I be somewhere better than this?"
"Where do you want to be?"
"Not shoved into the back of your mind, into some idea of high school you hardly have from movies. I'm not just a kid, you know." She gave Lois a push and she found herself stumbling against a mirror.
She stepped back and looked around, found nothing but mirrors, nothing but her... everywhere. "I don't know what you want from me. I found all I can. I know some of it's not right, but..."
"You looked for facts," ones of the images said. "You put together a story," another one said and she turned. "You weren't looking for a person," one shouted directly behind her. "You don't even care who we are."
"So I'll figure it out," she exploded. "Stop yelling at me."
"You want a sequence of events, like that tells you something." The voice was softer and directly behind her again. She whirled, expecting another mirror image, but found the girl. "And even if you get it right," she said softly. "It'll still be all wrong."
"But if I know what happened... If I know the truth. That's..."
"That's not all there is to us. We're more than just things we did." Her eyes turned sad. "Why don't you want me?"
"I... I don't know you."
"You could at least TRY," the girl finished, suddenly grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her around.
She stopped herself with a jerk. "I am trying." But then the room was spinning. "Stop it." Mirrors spinning and whirling around her. "Stop it!" She tried to close her eyes, but they wouldn't obey. Hundreds of her, each blurring into the next, around and around. "Please... I feel sick..."
"Really sick," she breathed, suddenly realizing she was laying down. She opened her eyes. There were no mirrors, but the spinning... "Oh, God..." She nearly fell out of her bed, only catching herself on her nightstand as a sour taste filled her mouth and even her nostrils...
She lurched toward her bathroom, nearly screaming at the sight of the mirror on her bathroom door. But her hand stopped her, automatically going to her mouth as something worse than a scream tried to make its way out...
She tried to grasp the doorknob, but she seemed to be too far away and everything was spinning and...
"Okay. It's okay." A voice. A hand gripping her shoulder and the doorknob, pulling her forward as the door opened. "We'll make it."
But only barely. She nearly fell in front of the toilet and she felt the hand again, softer this time, on her back, rubbing in a circle until...
Her head shot forward, her throat pushing sour, slightly chunky liquid out of her mouth, even her nose. The hand kept rubbing until her body stilled, dry-heaving and gasping into the toilet.
"Boy. I am just not meant to sleep tonight."
"Linda?" she gasped into the toilet. Waking up in her own bed, she thought that must have been a dream, too, until now.
"Less talking, more puking."
"I don't want to puke anymore," she moaned, then did just that. Not very successfully, however. Mostly choking and coughing as Linda kept rubbing her back.
"I'm not seeing much food in there. But we'll talk about that later." She rubbed some more.
"I don't think there is any more." She gasped and heaved again, but nothing came out.
"Short, deep breaths. It'll stop the dry heaves." Linda held her back by the shoulders. "Incidentally, I'm almost proud of my new ability to look at vomit and not vomit, myself. I must be growing."
Lois thought some congratulatory statement was expected here, but she could only spit, squeezing her eyes shut as she realized her head was pounding. "It hurts so bad."
"You'll be okay. Believe me. I've been here a hell of a lot more than you have."
Lois sat back on her heels and finally lifted her head, turning slightly. Linda's face swam into focus. "So I was there."
Linda held out a tissue. "You might want to blow your nose. It seems to have got in on the act, here."
Lois took it and blew, grimacing slightly as she felt small bits of something make their way out her nose. "Gross," she panted, aiming to toss the tissue in the toilet, but getting the floor.
"Got it." Linda picked it up between two fingers, gingerly dropping it in the toilet. "My gross-out threshold seems to be higher. Might even be diaper ready." Linda flushed, then closed the toilet, standing and helping Lois to sit on it. "We should talk." She fussed about the sink, putting some toothpaste on Lois' brush. "Not this second, but we should definitely talk. I'd get things rolling while you clean up, but... some guy told me one thing at a time, so... rather than rattle in your ear while you're in the throes of what looks to be a bitch of a hangover," she held the brush out, "I'll just give you a minute."
*************************
Lois laid back against the pillows, ready to surrender to sleep again, anything to escape the throbbing in her head. She closed her eyes.
"Nuh-uh-uh." She opened her eyes to Linda, sailing in with a glass and a mug. "Not yet." She put both down on the nightstand and pulled Lois up, piling two pillows behind her before perching on the side of the bed. "Hands out, please." Lois obeyed and Linda picked up the water, placing it in one, dropping two pills in the other.
Lois put the pills on her tongue and swallowed, grimacing slightly. Everything still felt like acid going down her throat. She handed back the glass and Linda held out the mug. "What is it? And please say it's not Irish... at all."
Linda shook her head and handed over the mug. "Just ginger tea for your stomach. Little something I picked up. I'm a bona-fide nausea expert these days. Got a few more remedies to tempt you with tomorrow."
"Can't wait," Lois said into the mug, forcing herself to take a sip. It didn't feel so bad going down, warm and sort of soothing to her throat. She closed her eyes again.
"No, no, no." Linda was rubbing her arm. "I don't want you going to sleep until you've finished the whole thing. But sip slowly. I'll think of something to entertain you in the meantime. Maybe... I don't know... the truth?"
Lois stared into her mug, hesitant to look at her cousin... cousin. That was still true, but everything else was tilted on its axis. She didn't know who this woman was. She didn't know herself, as... herself seemed to be pointing out to her. "I... I had it so wrong and I still don't know exactly how wrong..."
"So very, very, very wrong. I don't mind telling you that I went over your notes and am nearly ready to declare you an incompetent investigative reporter." Linda squeezed her knee. "That's my way of saying that I can't believe you thought you were such an awful person."
"Well, I... I didn't have much to go on."
"I'll be happy to make any corrections you need, but... I don't get it. Why didn't you just... ask me?"
"I wasn't sure if you'd tell me the truth." Lois finally met her eyes. "Once you find out everything you thought you knew is a lie it... It changes how you see the people around you. The people who made it seem true."
"Well, I..." Linda sighed. "I won't say I didn't lie. I thought I was doing what you wanted."
Lois looked down. "I... wanted that, didn't I? I did this."
"I never blamed you," Linda said. "Well... maybe a little, but... I don't know. At the time, I went along. I thought it was for your own good. But, apparently, I have lots of stupid ideas about what's good for you, as certain people like to point out." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. The lying stops here."
"So... you'll tell me everything?"
Linda leaned in. "I'll tell you anything you want to know, but... I know your little fainting spell there was mostly a bottle of whatever-the-hell, but... I think a part of it might have been a case of T.M.I. and I... I'm not going to treat you like a child, here." Linda snapped her fingers. "Hey, I told you to keep sipping." Lois quickly obeyed, feeling like a child already. "What happens is up to you. But you have options. I've been up and down and on and off the phone all night trying to figure out what those are."
Lois waited for her to go on.
Linda took a deep breath. "I've been talking to Murray and Victor. They seem to think, from what you said, and from going over the tapes from Camp Tremaine, that you were hit with some of Albright's voodoo." She waved a hand. "Murray has all these science-y terms for it, but they basically think that whatever was blocking you from remembering what you could, what's... left to remember, has been removed. And that you could be free to take it all in. But I pointed out that you're still a human being, not a sponge, and we don't want to make you absorb too much at once, so... And this is up to you." She gestured to the mug again and Lois dutifully took a sip, still a bit shell-shocked from what she did know, wondering if Linda might have a point, "Murray wants to hook you up to one of his thingamajigs and measure waves and heartrate, so we know when you're hitting critical mass or something." She winced. "Actually this all sounds way better coming from him with all his big, fancy words. Basically, we want to give you the truth. We just want to do it carefully, slowly. Stop when you need a break and let it... settle. We don't want to pile more on you than you're ready to handle."
Lois sipped her tea in silence for a moment, just for something to do. "Maybe Murray has the right idea," she finally said. "I don't know exactly what I can handle."
Linda tilted her head. "No, you don't. You have... no idea how strong you are."
"Me?" She almost laughed. "I'm the girl that went to some memory thief therapist because she couldn't handle her life."
"You don't know what you went through before that. The things you saw even before Ruby..." Linda stopped herself. "Yeah. If we're going through with Murray's treatment, I should probably not hit you with the big stuff just yet. But, believe me..." Linda took her free hand. "You're the strongest woman I know."
Lois stared back at her. "Then you obviously haven't met you."
"Me?" Linda snorted. "I think you're confusing strong with bossy. People do it all the..."
"No. I mean it. I... I've been a bitch lately, kicking you out and not talking to you over Thanksgiving and you never... you never give up on me."
"Hey, we're family." She squeezed Lois' hand harder. "You don't give up on family, especially when you don't have much."
Lois felt her shoulders hitching before her eyes filled. "We're... we're... all that's left and I don't even know... I can't remember..."
"Shhh." Linda took the mug from her as her hands gave up and her eyes blurred, pushing out hot, thick tears. She felt Linda pulling her forward, enfolding her. "Yeah. This might count as the big stuff we ease into."
"But I hate this," she sobbed. "I have this entire life and all these people I lost and I... I don't even remember them."
"But you will. I'll tell you all about them."
"It won't be the same," she breathed. "I'll just be... told."
"Hey..." Linda rubbed her back. "It's all we have right now. Maybe we can find a way to find Grady or... I don't know what's going to happen. But I know this..." Linda pulled her back, holding her by the shoulders. "I know I love you. I know there are quite a few other people who love you... nearly as much as me. I know you." She smiled sadly. "Probably better than you do right now. And I know that the truth is the most important thing to you. I know that you're not going to sit crying because you can't get the truth the way you want it. You'll hunt it down and subdue it and make it yours no matter how you get it."
She sniffled. "You know that, huh?"
"You kidding? You're the nosiest brat I ever met. Even when we were little, you..." She stopped, pursing her lips. "Well, maybe we can save that for later."
"Is it... big stuff?"
"Well, small stuff, in a way. I was just thinking of you and how you always... I don't know if I should..."
"I could..." She glanced down. She thought of the girl... No. Herself. She wanted to know that girl. "I could handle some small stuff."
Linda smiled. "I don't know. This might count as a big revelation. Can you handle what a know-it-all you were?"
"I was not." She tilted her head, realizing she didn't know that for sure. "Was I?"
"Oh, sure. You had to know everything. If it was gossip or some silly, useless fact... Just everything. If I said there were five million people in Minnesota, then you knew there were five million, one hundred thou... Oh, some number that was exactly right. You were a pain in the butt."
Lois found herself smiling as her eyes grew heavy. "Yeah?"
"Hell, yeah. Sometimes I found you even more annoying than Lucy. At least she had the sense to not correct me. She hung on my every..." She stopped, her brows drawing together.
Lois' eyes opened wider. "Linda, you can tell me... I mean, if you need to talk about..."
"I want to. I really do, but it's something that brings its own questions and... it's so much to go into right now and I... As I said, some guy told me one thing at a time and... I don't know if it's the time when you're eyes are closing."
"No, they aren't."
Linda's hand moved down the side of her face and her eyes slid closed. "Sure, they are."
Lois opened them again, though it was hard, thinking about mom voodoo as she had with Martha Kent. Maybe it was a power that started with pregnancy.
"And you're starting to drift off on me."
"No, I'm not," she struggled to say. "I want to know."
"And you will know. Sweetie, I want you to know everything. Our silly sleep-overs, all the times I got you in trouble and all the times you returned the favor." Her voice turned whispery. "Even about Lucy and how she followed us like a lost puppy. All the nice things about you and me and our family..." She saw the bedside lamp go out as her eyes shut. "All the wonderful and awful things about you."
She felt the bed rise slightly and it jarred her. She shot up to find Linda in the doorway. "Linda?"
She stopped. "Yeah?"
"Could you... sleep here?" It felt silly and childish to ask, but she couldn't stop herself. "I don't want to be alone."
Linda turned in the doorway. "You sure it's not too... crowded?"
She sighed, remembering her words a... Had it only been a week ago? "I... I'm sorry. I never meant to..."
"Oh, shut up." Linda came forward. "And scooch over."
She moved to her left as Linda settled in, pulling the covers over both of them.
"You know, you weren't wrong," Linda sighed. "But if I crowd you, it's only because I know someone's gotta look out for my baby cousin." Lois might have been annoyed by that label a week ago, but right now, it felt nice to be babied, looked after, even crowded a little.
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