Restless Nights (Chapter Thirteen)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question…

Chapter 13

“So how does this work?” Chloe breathed, trying to get comfortable on the couch that had long been crammed in her room. It was more of a love seat and she may be short, but not so much that she could lay down without feeling ridiculous. “Do you show me ink blots and talk about my dreams or…”

Sarah laughed. “No. I personally consider the Rorschach test as no more than pseudoscience. I just prefer to start off by talking. It’s not much more complicated than that. And… Well, you don’t have to lie down for it unless you really want to.”

“Good.” Chloe sat up. “I was about to take the bed and that would feel too… psych ward for me.”

“Well, I’d like to go ahead and say that I’m not fitting you for a straight jacket.”

Chloe stared at her hands. “That’s a relief,” she said on a hollow laugh. For a moment, she thought back to high school, to how this very thing terrified her, as if even the idea of spilling her guts to a stranger meant that she was halfway to becoming her mother. Of course, she now knew more about her mother, knew that it was fear of her power that put her in her catatonic state. But wasn’t it still the same thing? She couldn’t handle her situation without locking herself inside her own mind. Sometimes Chloe wondered, with every horrible thing that happened, which one would be the one that would send her there.

“You’re thinking hard,” Sarah said softly. “I wish you’d share some of it with me.”

Chloe met her eyes, then quickly looked away. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about her mother. That was so tied up with guilt. Hadn’t she been shut away in Star City, Oliver footing that bill among many others? And had Chloe been to see her? No. She’d been bouncing from crisis to crisis and… But wasn’t that the problem? Maybe she should start with all the crises or maybe…

“Any words will do,” Sarah prodded gently.

“I’m trying to figure out the right way to start.”

“There’s no perfect way. You can just talk about now. Tell me how you’re doing right now. Like we’re just,” Sarah shrugged and smiled, “old friends catching up.”

“Well, I… I’ve got a lot going on right now. Work, nailing down the new place, obviously the… Well…”

“The pregnancy?” Sarah put in gently.

“Yes. That… that, too.”

“But let’s put that aside for now as I think you want to. You mentioned dreams. Is that something you want to talk about?”

“Actually, no. I mean, not that I wouldn’t if I had any, but I…” She stopped, blinking several times. “I haven’t been dreaming.” She heard scribbling and looked up at Sarah. “I thought this wasn’t going to be on some kind of record.”

“It isn’t. I’m not taking these with me,” Sarah said, still writing. “I’m leaving them with you and you can do what you want with them. Read them over, destroy them…”

“B-but why are you writing that down?” Chloe said breathlessly. “Is me not dreaming some kind of red flag or…”

“No.” Sarah rested her pen on her pad and looked up. “It’s just a thought I have. Dreams… Well, there are a lot of theories about dreaming and what it means, what it does for us. But, unless you had a severe head injury, which Doctor Hamilton would have found, you are dreaming. You’re just not dealing with it. Maybe even protecting yourself… or someone else. I’m not sure you even know you’re doing it.”

Chloe found her hand moving to her stomach and quickly stopped it, standing up. There was still something about Sarah that was putting her off, this fear of doing or saying anything, of what she’ll read into it – as if Sarah really was fitting her for that straight jacket, but afraid to say so.

“I feel like I’m upsetting you,” Sarah said. “We can stop here for now.”

“Why just for now?” Chloe moved to the window, stared at that chipped Lion’s head again. “I mean, I know what happened. I had a little waking nightmare and I’ll just… I’ll… avoid certain areas until after… after…”

“Chloe, I’m not sure why you’re afraid of me. Really, I don’t want you to see me as the enemy. I’m not going to force you to confront things you aren’t ready to.” She heard movement, then Sarah’s voice just a little closer. “We can take this as slow as you need to, but I think you need this, someone to talk to who’s outside of everything. I know how it can be with people close to you, they might tend to think it’s their fault if you’re not perfectly happy or that they should be doing something to fix it.” 

If that didn’t sum up Clark, and even the rest of them to some extent, she wasn’t sure what did.

“The bottom line is that you need to start facing what happened with something less than… stalwart silence. You’re allowed to be upset. You’re allowed to take time…”

“So what do you want me to do?” Chloe whirled on her. “Stop everything and cry all day long?”

“No. I think you should keep moving on,” Sarah said calmly. “But I also think you should take some time to deal with what you’ve been through and… well, with what you think you may go through in the months to come.” Sarah moved closer, not enough to make Chloe feel trapped, but just enough to let her know that there was nowhere else to look. “I know some of the things that have happened to you. I also know that night was particularly traumatic. You seem to think you should be able to shrug it off. And maybe that’s been how you’ve coped for some time now. But you can’t keep doing that.”

“I wasn’t the only one there that night. The others aren’t hallucinating and fainting all the…”

“You can’t compare the two. They had three months on you. You woke up and were hit with a lot of things at once. And it almost seems like you’ve been frantic to catch up, keeping busy to avoid…”

“I am legitimately busy.”

“That doesn’t mean there isn’t time.” Sarah gave her a small smile. “I don’t want to tell you how to feel or how to deal with those feelings. I just want you to start acknowledging you have them, whatever they are. Also… Well, I don’t know you, really, but I know a lot about you and all you’ve gone through. Whatever you feel, I have faith that you will handle it in a healthy way. There’s so much strength in you.”

Chloe held her gaze, not sure what to say to that. 

Sarah sighed and moved away. “Look at me, doing all the talking. Maybe next time, I’ll let you got a word in,” Sarah picked up her notepad and tore that first page off, “If there will be a next time.” She met Chloe’s eyes with a small smile.

Chloe stared back for a long time before returning it. “Well, you did bring muffins.”

Sarah laughed and placed that page on the small end table as she picked up her purse. “Next time, I can bring some coffee.”

“I can’t…”

“I mean, decaf. I know of one that’s so strong, it might as well be the real thing.”

Chloe laughed. “Someone’s clued you in on me.”

“Well, you hear things.”

Chloe didn’t read that bit of paper when Sarah left, but she did put it in her pocket before she went right to Emil in the medical bay. It was a Saturday and at least three days early for her check-up, but he “just wanted to take inventory, with what happened last week.”

“I thought it was just a little faint.”

“It was. But you can never be too careful.”

“I know I’m already getting more attention than most women in my condition,” she sighed, taking her shoes off and stepping onto the scale. “I guess you’re spoiling me.”

“Yes. You lucky thing,” he said dryly. “While we go… Are you feeling nauseated?”

“Not as much.”

“Are you feeling the baby move a lot?” he asked, making notes on his little chart.

“Not a whole lot. Just… flutters, I guess, especially when I’m laying down.”

“Have you been leaking fluid or had any vaginal spotting or bleeding?”

“No. Not spotting. But some… milky fluid. Is that…”

“It’s very normal, but we can talk it over in a moment. Have you felt any contractions?”

Her eyes widened. “Of course not. Does that even happen this early?”

“Some women experience Braxton Hicks contractions in this trimester. If they do happen, it’s usually just your muscles warming up or discomfort, so if they get uncomfortable, talk to me and I can see about the cause. Sometimes it’s just tension or dehydration… Oh. Speaking of that, did you drink a glass of water before coming down?”

“My favorite part,” Chloe grumbled, stepping off. 

“One day medicine will invent something less messy than the cup,” he said on a chuckle. “It’s a shame I don’t have any,” he muttered, looking over his shelves. “I think I’ve got some boxes that were just delivered in my office. Be right back,” he said, moving to the door.

She lifted herself onto the table, debated putting on a gown. But she doubted Emil was going to do anything more than make her pee into a cup today, which was always bad enough. It was a good thing she hadn’t started as someone other than Emil knocked on the door frame.

“Sorry to intrude, but I was hoping to catch you while you were still dressed,” John Jones said briskly.

“Don’t worry. I don’t thinking I’m dropping them today. Hi.”

He sauntered in. “I just wanted to stop by after work. I heard about what happened yesterday.”

“As you can see, I’m alright. Emil’s just looking me over.”

Jones seemed to be doing the same. “If I may say, you are looking less green these days.”

“Is that even a compliment coming from you?”

“Of course. You might even say you’re getting that glow they always talk about.”

She let out a breath of laughter. “Well, there’s your silver lining in all this.”

“Well, I know it’s not the ideal situation. But I do want to say that I’m… Well, I try not to intrude, read people without permission, but you seem to be dealing well with extraordinary circumstances. I hope you know that.”

She didn’t. In fact, her earlier talk with Sarah had her tense and nervous about the talks to come. Then again, if she were to look back at what Sarah had said, there wasn’t anything to fear in it.

Whatever you feel, I have faith that you will handle it in a healthy way. There’s so much strength in you.

“Thanks for that,” she said softly, having nothing better to say. “So they’re making you work all night? That seems cruel.”

“Well, I requested it,” Jones said with a smile. “I’m a night person. And that’s where the action is anyw…” He stopped, furrowing his brow.

“What?”

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

“John, are you okay? Is it one of those headaches?”

“I’m afraid so.” He rubbed at his temple. “It doesn’t exactly hurt, but it is very uncomfortable. I can’t think what’s causing it.”

Chloe stared at him, wondering if she could. She’d witnessed a few of these by now. And they always seemed to happen when she was around. Her hand dropped to her stomach. She almost didn’t want to say it, but the idea that she could, without even meaning to, be hurting him…

She didn’t have to say it as Emil sailed in with a box at that moment. 

“There. These should be enough to last even beyond… Oh, good morning, Detective Jones.”

“Doctor Hamilton,” he grunted.

“Are you all right?”

“Just a small headache.”

“Yes. Oliver said you were having these occasional bouts.” Emil put the box down and moved to John. “You know, I have some time before my shift. I could take a sec and…”

“I don’t have time. I’m sorry. It’s been a long night. I should just get to bed.” John shook his head and moved to the door. “I’ll be fine. I’ll take the long way home. Little fresh air.” He gave Chloe a pained smile in the doorway. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I’m sorry you’re not,” she called after him. Very sorry. Maybe even a little afraid she was causing it. Maybe having her own place would be good for more than her.

“Well!” Emil handed her a cup, then picked up his chart again, absently clicking his pen as he stared at it. “Why don’t you go ahead and fill that up and then we can talk about vaginal discharge.”

“Oh, rapture,” she sighed, moving to the little washroom.

She stilled just before the door, debated telling Emil about John’s headaches, about whether she was the cause. But, with all the equipment around here, the idea that something that didn’t even weigh a full pound could be causing this seemed far-fetched.

In the end, she just shut herself in and dropped her pants. She leaned over, picking up the scrap of paper that had fallen out. She took a deep breath and opened it to Sarah’s looping scrawl.

Dreams – mind processing input, Jie Zhang theory may apply, look up when have time

That was all it said. Chloe almost laughed. Homework. Here she was, thinking this scrap of paper held the answer to her sanity and Sarah was giving her homework.

*************

“… no place like home for the holidays,” Bart sang loudly along with Perry Como, “cause no matter how far away you roam…”

“Bart, will you turn that off?” Oliver called out. “It’s only Thanksgiving, for crying out loud.” He grunted as he pushed one table to meet another. “Why does every city have a station that plays nothing but Christmas music a whole month before it even happens?”

“I like it,” Bart said from the kitchen. “Gets me in that festive, cooking mood.”

“Then you do what you need to, my little dynamo,” Dinah yelled before nudging Oliver. “Stop bothering him. It helps him cook. We need him to cook! He hasn’t even asked for our help! Are you trying to ruin this meal?”

“For God’s sake, Dinah, eat something,” Oliver hissed.

“Not until it’s turkey,” she said with great determination. “And stuffing. Cranberry sauce made from real cranberries…”

“What?” Clark dropped the table cloth he was taking out of its package. “What about the canned? Do we still get canned?”

“Who wants canned? I thought you were a farmer,” Dinah scoffed.

“I’m not exactly. I mean, I just keep up the household animals now. Anyway, my dad was always more…” He shook his head. “It’s cranberry sauce. It’s supposed to be can shaped with little slices.”

“As long as there are whipped potatoes,” Oliver said, “I don’t care what else is on my plate.”

“Whipped? So that was your doing?” Dinah groaned. “The best is smashed, with a little skin and chives. Back me up, Chloe.”

Chloe shrugged. “Don’t look at me. My dad always did instant. And some kind of loaf that I think might have been turkey.”

“You poor kid!”  Dinah gasped.

She’d never thought of it that way. Then again, where was her dad these days? Did she resent him for being so spectacularly uninvolved since she hit eighteen? Chloe shook it off. Her sessions with Sarah had her digging into every word out of her mouth, even more than Sarah. Chloe laughed it off, saving it for later. “I don’t know. I never put much stock into the meal, not until I had Thanksgiving at your mom’s the first time,” she said glancing at Clark.

“Well, my mom is undeniably the best…”

“Don’t say that,” Dinah whispered loudly. “You’ll make him nervous!”

“It’s not like she’s coming here to criticize,” Clark said, pacing to the door suddenly. “When’s she getting here, anyway? I knew I shouldn’t have let Victor get her. They’re probably stuck in traffic.”

“Better that than you rushing her here so your poor mother has to spend most of the meal picking bugs out of her teeth,” Oliver snorted.

“That’s not… Chloe, tell him that’s not…”

“No comment,” Chloe muttered. Running with Clark had a speed advantage, sure, but it definitely had drawbacks, especially at ground-level. She stiffened as Jones came in. “I’d better see if Bart needs any help,” she said quickly, rushing into the kitchen.

“Avoiding the question,” Oliver called out. “That should tell you something, Clark.”

More like avoiding John. She still wasn’t sure that she was doing something to cause his headaches. But she thought it was best she keep her distance just in case. The worst part was that, even with all the complications, this pregnancy was progressing normally and she hated those reminders that it might be anything but normal.

Most times, she tried not to look back on those nights with Davis. He was nowhere to be found and there seemed to be no point. But which night had done it? Was it one that was calm ones, where she simply gave in to the attractive man lying beside her? Or was it another night, one where the Beast was so close to the surface and every touch was filled with fear and determination?

She pushed the nights away as she stared at Bart, zipping from end to end of the kitchen. “Need any help?” she asked rather dizzily.

He stopped. “Dollface! No, but I’m glad you’re here. Remember how I told you about my window bits. Well, I’ve been working on them and here’s a little preview.” He put down a large bowl and moved around the counter. “Now, this will be even better in a window, just for the theatricality, but check it out…” He straightened up behind the counter and turned so he was in profile. “Hmm. It seems I’m out if potatoes. I think I’ll go down to the cellar for more.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. It was a tired routine, but she did laugh as he disappeared behind the counter, if only for his sake.

“Nope. None down here. I guess they’re upstairs. This time I’ll take the escalator.”

She chuckled as he did, even doing the watch-check. “Very impressive.” 

“Still can’t find them. Maybe the sub-basement. Of course, I’ll have to take the elevator, so…”

“I get the gist.” She held up a hand. “Save some for the window.”

“I will. By the time you get that place fixed up, it will be flawless.”

“Me? I’m not doing much of the work.” All she’d really done was pack up all but the essentials in her little room. Oliver had been ready to hire someone for even that when Chloe pointed out that they didn’t need outsiders inside the building. But he had convinced her to have the same people repairing the wall outside do some essentials in her new place -- electrical work, patch-ups -- and insisted it was a housewarming gift. Clark had been annoyed by that. Clark seemed annoyed by this entire thing whereas Oliver seemed perfectly fine with her getting a place, especially one so close by.

Clark did seem to be letting up, though. Maybe his annoyance had to do with the fact that he seemed to want to do just everything for her these days. It had helped that she told him she trusted no one but him to paint it.

“Hey, while you’re here,” Bart was saying as he brandished a baster, “can I get a head count? What’s the status here?”

“Well, John just got here. Mrs. Kent and Victor are on their way...”

“Victor doesn’t count,” Bart grumbled, “with his stupid, limited robot diet, he can’t truly appreciate my artistry. Go on.”

“There's me, Clark, Ollie, Dinah…”

“My best customer.”

“Emil’s out of town.”

“What? This was not run by me!”

“He went to spend it with his family. I thought you knew.”

“But I cooked for more than a measly seven…”

“You’re forgetting you.”

Bart smiled. “Oh yeah. I count for at least three.” He frowned heavily and looked around. “Come to think of it, maybe there’s not enough.”

Chloe glanced at the industrial-sized oven and the turkey that took up most of it. “I think we’ll be fine.”

“Eh, you’re right. Dessert can fill in all the empty spaces.”

***********

Too much space for one person, Tess thought, staring at the long dining table on her little walk through the mansion. The weekly – she’d long since done away with having daily staff – cleaning crew had decorated yesterday. She supposed they just considered it part of their duties. Fake cornucopias, patterned burnt orange cloths and autumn floral arrangements on every table, the same as they had done last year. She hadn’t enjoyed it much then, either. She’d never cared much for holidays. 

Growing up, most of them were spent on eggshells, wondering what kind of drunk Dad was going to be this time. Would it be the cheerful, all-the-ice-cream-you want drunk or the kind that made her want to hide under the basement stairs? And she’d been terrified of the basement, so that was saying something.

Still, she sometimes wondered if Lex’s holidays had been any better, growing up in a sprawling mansion, probably much like this one, long ago. He didn’t talk about it much. He had talked about a rather tense Thanksgiving with Lana Lang spent at this very table and she’d actually wondered if they’d have had a nicer time if they’d just eaten at something where they could speak without shouting across the vast distance.

Sometimes she thought the answers to all of Lex’s problems were painfully obvious. Upset with distance from your wife? Don’t have separate rooms. Annoyed with your father controlling you? Move out of his house. Stop working for his company. Being left out of secrets got you down? Just stop caring. She even understood it, that need to know, the anger at being lied to. In fact, he was giving her even more experience there. And sometimes she had to ask “why?” What did it matter? What did it give her?

So Clark had abilities. As near as she could see – and she was seeing it more clearly these days – he wasn’t using them to rule the world. He easily could. The Blur might have been spotted outside Metropolis lately, but he seemed to be stopping thieves and rescuing daredevil teens from their own folly just as he did there. More than that, the more time she spent listening in on his innocuous conversations with Chloe, the less she saw to fear in him. 

Truth be told, she’d never feared Clark, right from the start. Maybe it was because she met him by way of him saving her life. Then again, Lex had met him the same way and look how things had twisted from there! And she could admit, if only for Lex’s sake, that Clark had a part in this, always lying, always guarding his secret. But then another part of her wondered what gave Lex the right to know. Because he was rich? Because he was, arguably, more intelligent?

She sighed, hearing it echo as she moved down the hall. This whole place was too big for one person.

Lex was out of town, had been for three days now. She was glad of it, except for how he’d spoken of Thanksgiving and how she’d love the fancy chestnut stuffing from this old Metropolis standby his father would order from. Was it Sidney’s, Dorsey’s… something like that. It didn’t matter because he wouldn’t be here. And she was fine with that. She hadn’t celebrated a holiday outright since leaving home.

Her phone buzzed in her robe’s pocket and she pulled it out, almost anxious to find Lex’s number pop up with a text. Knowing what he was after hadn’t exactly helped her mood. In fact, this past week, she’d found herself relieved, the less she heard from him, tossing herself into work at The Planet as the idea of keeping watch on Sullivan’s womb didn’t sit right with her.

Just stop caring. She supposed it was easier said than done. She opened the text.

Dinner delivered. Clancy’s. Penthouse 8. Be there.

Clancy’s. So that was it. She was tempted to text back that she had other plans – such as not acknowledging this day at all. But who was she kidding? She might enjoy a little chestnut stuffing and pie… even today.

***********

“Really, I’m stuffed,” Chloe groaned.

“Oh, just try a little of the yams. You didn’t have any,” Martha said from her right, spooning some onto her plate. “And they are just packed with nutrients. They’re really like a superfood.”

Clark snorted from her left. “I hate that word. I also hate yams.”

“You hate everything that’s not a sandwich,” Martha chided before leaning into Chloe. “Don't listen to him. He’s been using his special… constitution to get out of eating vegetables for years.”

“That’s not true. I ate salad for lunch just last week – only salad – with beets. Chloe, tell her about the salad.”

Chloe hid a laugh in her napkin before turning to Martha. “It’s true Mrs. Kent. There were actual beets in it.” Also mounds of dressing, but his mother didn’t have to hear that part.

“How about that?” Martha leaned over the table to beam at Clark. “You’re growing up.” She turned her attention back to Chloe. “But you really should try these. Bart’s done some wonderful things with the yams and the butternut squash…”

Bart cleared his throat from the other end of the table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that.”

Martha chuckled. “I was just telling Chloe about the vegetables, about how everything side dish is like its own special entrée. I truly feel like I’ve had a gourmet, catered meal.”

Of course, Martha hadn’t been saying that, but Bart seemed to need to hear it, with how he’d been asking everyone to give him more adjectives every time they grunted that it was good with their mouths full. Martha had truly stepped up with that, with the way Bart rushed to get her some more wine. Of course she did. Martha Kent always seemed to be there with just what a person needed. 

“You’re still too skinny,” she whispered to Chloe. 

Case in point.

“Have you even tried the squash? It’s…”

“Mrs. Kent, please…”

“I told you. Call me Martha. You’re not a kid anymore.”

“Martha, then,” she said on a laugh. “I don’t think I can eat any more, as in physically.” Martha had been fussing over her since she arrived. She’d come in, put a hand on her belly, asked her about a million questions to the point where Chloe thought she should call Emil and ask where he hid her chart just to make things simpler.

“Too much?” Martha bumped her shoulder. “See, I guess I struggled for so long to be where you are and… Well, things didn’t go as planned.” Martha sighed. “Even saying that, I know this wasn’t your plan. But that doesn’t mean things can’t work out for the best. I wouldn’t trade Clark for anything, you know,” she whispered. “And I’m sure he knows, too, as he’s listening in.”

“I am not,” Clark grumbled next to her.

Martha just laughed and leaned in to Chloe. “Anyway, I read so many pregnancy books at that time and I’d almost like to use that knowledge now.”

“Well, I can tell you that Doctor Hamilton is checking me up weekly, if not more.”

“Isn’t that sweet of him? Taking extra time for you?”

“I guess it is,” Chloe said, surprised at the idea, something she’d never thought of before. 

“Most expectant mothers get monthly visits at the most.”

“Yeah?” She knew her situation was different. Oliver must be compensating Emil for all the extra time. It was one thing for him to float the team’s medical expenses, but for her prenatal care to be so involved… “Excuse me.” She stood and moved to the other end of their joined tables, trying to keep a wide berth on John as she went, till she reached Oliver and Dinah, who seemed to be arguing about the minted peas with pearl onions. 

“I win. Peas are worth more than onions,” Oliver was saying. 

“Oliver?” she tried.

“Yeah. Just a sec. They’re lighter and harder to aim,” he went on.

“But the shotglass is a small target,” Dinah said, exasperated, “so it’s harder to get the onion to…”

“Oliver, we really need to talk,” Chloe said louder.

“Okay, okay. This isn’t over,” he shot at Dinah before pushing back his chair. “What’s up?”

“Listen, I’ve been fine with things up to a point. I really appreciate so much of what you’ve done, but…”

“Is this about the repairs?” Oliver rolled his eyes. “Chloe, it was a measly hour of filling holes and fixing wiring. I mean, they were already here. I can even deduct it as…”

“I’m talking about Emil. I know you keep him on retainer, but for him to see me so much is… too much.”

“Considering this isn’t your average pregnancy, I don’t think it is, but don’t worry. Emil volunteered the extra time.”

“He did?”

Oliver shrugged. “He said it was no trouble, stopping in on the way to work. Besides, he’s gotten to know you and he cares. We all do, Chloe. I really wish you’d stop balking every time someone wants to help.”

“Well, I don’t mean to… I mean… I… Thank you,” she finally finished.

Oliver chuckled. “That’s it? No ‘I’m fine. I can handle every single thing on my own?’”

“Well, it’s Thanksgiving, isn’t it?” Chloe said with a withering glance. “I guess I’m just thankful for you right now.”

“Oh.” Oliver smiled as he moved back to his chair. “You’re welcome, then.”

She looked over the table. She really was thankful. She didn’t know how she’d be dealing with this if things had worked out as she’d planned in the spring, hidden away in some anonymous town with Davis. How would she have felt, pregnant, far from anyone who truly knew her? She supposed she’d have had Davis, but Davis was always tied up with the fear of what Davis could become. Also, Davis didn’t know her. She didn’t truly know Davis. As much as they opened up to each other, there wasn’t the ever-increasing intimacy of this group at the table right now.

Oliver, who took care of any need his team had, no matter what.

Bart, who could always make her smile no matter how terrible her mood. 

Dinah, who could cut through even the thickest bullshit and make her laugh.

Victor, who could always be trusted to help her see things from all perspectives.

Martha, who could treat this baby like some kind of boon from the heavens,

And Clark… She was hard pressed to think of something Clark didn’t do for her, hadn’t done for her all these years…

The only thing missing was Lois, who was, since her father had gone, the only person in her life who had known her for all of it. But she was safe where she was and she’d be back one day. Chloe had faith in that. 

“I’m thankful for all of you,” she whispered.

“I heard that.”

She turned to see John – who was always there when a person needed him, as Clark attested, also when they didn’t. “I was just… thinking out loud. But I should get in the kitchen and start…”

“Why are you avoiding me, Chloe?”

“I’m not… I mean…” She gave up, sighing. “Are you reading my mind? I thought you didn’t do that without...”

“I don’t think I need to read your mind to see that. You’ve been keeping your distance from me all day. I’m obviously not going to read you without cause, so I thought I’d just ask.”

“Fine. I have been avoiding you. But it’s for own good.”

“And how is that?”

She pulled him into the kitchen. “John, I’ve been thinking about your headaches and… Well, I have some idea about the cause.”

He just stared at her. “Go on.”

She stared back. Did she have to say it?

“Alright.” Jones shrugged. “Did you want me to read your…”

“I think my unborn child is blocking your powers and giving you headaches and…”

Jones laughed.

“What? I mean, it sounds ridiculous, but I really think…”

He laughed harder.

She threw up her hands. “Well, you only seem to have these episodes when I’m there, so…”

“No,” he said, still laughing, “you just only see them when you’re around.” He sobered up. “For example, I’m not having one now and here you are.”

“But what if it’s… making it happen,” she tried. “I’m not saying it means to. But…”

“Chloe, this unborn child of yours is not capable of much right now, including harming me. It’s consciousness is… in a state I could best describe as active sleep.”

“What does that mean?”

He closed his eyes. “It is growing, stretching, suspended as if in a warm, dark cave, exploring its environs, but unable to know itself or the state it is…” He stopped, glanced down at her stomach. “May I?”

“Yes,” she breathed, before thinking better of it. “Wait!”

His hand stilled before touching her. 

She felt unsure about this, about the idea of this little intruder being read as if it was really real. Yet, she couldn’t help it. Her curiosity about this, even this, was getting the better of her. “Please… please do it,” she finally said.

John pressed his hand to her stomach, closing his eyes. He was silent for so long, she finally had to day something.

“Is there anything…”

“There isn’t much. Nothing I would call a thought. But it moves and is aware of you, aware of your voice. When you speak, it stops moving.”

Chloe let out a shaky breath. “Is it… Is it normal?”

Jones opened his eyes and backed away. “I don’t have any basis for comparison. But I know it doesn’t have the power to harm anyone… not at this moment. I can’t speak for the future. I can just tell you what I see now.” He searched her eyes. “I’m trying not to read you, but… Does that help at all?”

“I don’t know,” she said, sniffling.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

888

As you can see, I gave in and gave Martha a little cameo. There may be another. I'm not sure just yet.