A Hero's Journey

By Chris Mulder

 The Lady Zara checked the instrument readings again, making sure
everything was properly set for their long journey. There was
always a lot to do when beginning a trip through space. Once they
were on their way, however, there would be hours of tedium to get
through until they reached their destination. Even with
hyper-light drive it would take several days to get where they
were going.

She looked over at her Lord. His face was colored by the various
blinking lights on the console in front of him, his dark hair
barely distinguishable against the background in the
semi-darkness of the room, his slender hands busy at the
controls.

He must have sensed her scrutiny, for he looked up at her. "Is
everything all right?"

"Yes," she said, a little uncertainly, and then with more
conviction, "Yes, of course. Everything is fine."

She turned back to her duties, trying to shake off this feeling
of heaviness that had been tightening around her heart of late.
They had a job to do, a debt of honor to repay -- she must focus
on that to the exclusion of all else. They'd left things on New
Krypton in the best shape possible; however, it was important to
complete their task and return as quickly as they could,
otherwise the sacrifices of hundreds of people would have been
for nothing. There had already been too many deaths.

Well, she thought, checking the readouts again, everything seems
to be functioning as it should. She stood up from her seat.

Her companion turned to look at her and reached for her hand.
"Zara

"It's all right. I'll be fine."

He tightened his hold on her hand, and she did the same,
reassuring him. She'd relied on his strength a lot over the past
few days and she knew he would continue to be strong for her ...
and New Krypton.

She smiled slightly, squeezed his hand again before releasing it,
and turned to leave. She didn't see his dark eyes following her
sadly as she stepped through the door into the passageway.

Her steps slowed as she reached her destination -- a cargo bay.
It hardly seemed suitable, but it had the best climate controls
of any area on the ship and it was important that the temperature
remain constant. She put on her coat, pushed the button to open
the door, and went in. The room was bare except for a low pallet
with a cot on it. She walked forward until she stood beside the
cot. Sinking down to sit on the pallet she was able to look into
the face of the figure on the cot.

"Hello, Kal-El," she said softly.

There was no answer, but then she'd expected none. She hadn't
come here for his benefit, but for hers. There were some things
she needed to tell him, share with him ... things she should have
shared with him when she'd had the chance.

She reached up to touch his cheek. His skin was so cold, so
lifeless. It was impossible not to remember -- and compare -- the
first time she'd touched him, when their unified touch had
activated the image of the long-dead Jor-El. Kal-El had been so
moved by the experience that he'd unconsciously started to pull
his hand away from the device which was projecting the image.
Zara had had to take his hand and replace it over the key in
order to stabilize the holograph. There had been such warmth in
Kal-El then, such life.

She'd never known anyone like him.

***

When she'd first met him she'd thought the time he'd spent on
Earth was to blame for these differences, that his upbringing had
flawed him in some way. As she came to know him in the succeeding
months, however, she began to see that maybe Jor-El hadn't been
wrong after all in sending his son to Earth all those years ago.
Her father had always ranted about "Crazy Jor-El and his crazy
notions." Even he had to admit now that those same "crazy
notions" had saved New Krypton, and her.

From the time she'd gotten her cover job at the "Daily Planet,"
through the long journey back to New Krypton and the busy,
arduous, difficult weeks of his tenure as Lord Kal-El, she'd
watched him. Ching had at first feared this interest of hers,
thinking she was infatuated with Kal-El, but nothing could have
been farther from the truth. There had been a connection between
them, yes, but not an amorous one.

She shifted her position on the pallet a bit so she could put her
hands in the coat's pockets. There was a lot she had to say and
she'd be able to stay longer if she were warm. Looking at his
face, gray and drawn still from his gallant, hopeless battle
against a terrible poison, she began remembering all that had led
up to this day. Talking to him softly, her breath showed in small
white puffs as she recounted their long journey together.

Did he remember their lessons in the Kryptonian language, and how
he'd sometimes joke about the mess he was making of the words?
He'd had her laughing so hard that she'd had tears running down
her face. Ching had come into the room thinking something was
wrong -- he'd never heard such sounds from her before!

Learning Kryptonian without the aid of super powers was only one
of the many obstacles that had awaited Kal-El. She could only
guess at how frustrating, or humiliating, some of the experiences
of the past few months must have been for him. A few of them she
had seen with her own eyes: the times he would bump into things,
or otherwise injure himself because years of invulnerability had
not taught him to move cautiously; the times when people could
startle him because he hadn't heard them coming; the times when
he'd get impatient with himself for not being able to work longer
-- for getting tired or hungry sooner than he'd expected; and the
times when he'd had to cope with bouts of minor illnesses or that
nonspecific feeling of unwellness that most people have
experienced at least once in their lives.

All of that had been completely new to him. The only times he'd
ever known pain or discomfort on Earth was when he'd been exposed
to kryptonite, and Zara had gotten the impression that those
periods had been short-lived. Living without his powers all those
months on New Krypton had been difficult for him, and something
he'd still been learning to cope with right up until ...

She took a deep, long breath in an effort to pull her thoughts
away from that painful time. She wasn't ready to dwell on that
yet. Instead she forced herself to smile as she remembered his
self-deprecating laughter when he'd told her about bruising his
shin for the third time in two days on the same piece of
furniture.

"I did seem to spend a lot of time bandaging your cuts and
scrapes, didn't I, Kal-El?"

But the habits of a lifetime are hard to break, and learning to
think about possible injury, and how to avoid it, was only one of
the many things he'd had to learn, both on their journey to New
Krypton and during his stay there. She came to understand, that,
while his powers had confined him for years (until he'd created
Superman), they'd also sheltered him. Having to cope with life
outside that shelter hadn't been easy for him.

She'd also helped him study Kryptonian history, as well as the
geographies of Old and New Krypton. When the colonists had
settled on the new planet, she'd told him, they'd wanted to make
everything as much like the home they remembered as they could.
Consequently, they'd laid out property lines and boundaries as
close as possible to the way they'd been before -- given the
differences in some of the land masses. So it was important that
he learn about both worlds in order to understand the people of
the various houses, their connections to each other, as well as
their places in the social strata.

He'd been fascinated by his people's history and would have spent
much more time studying it if he could, but Ching had demanded
that part of each day be spent in learning other things as well.
Kal-El needed to know how to defend himself.

In spite of having admitted that Kal-El was "the one," Ching had
continued to look upon him with a good deal of disdain. He
couldn't quite forgive Kal for having been sent to Earth where he
could enjoy a childhood free from the struggles and hardships
which all the children of New Krypton knew from their births. "He
doesn't deserve what's been handed to him," Ching had once said,
but, as with most things in life, the more they learned about it
the more they understood that Kal- El's childhood hadn't been as
carefree as it might have appeared on the surface.

During meals together, on the voyage to New Krypton, Kal-El had
shared some of his story with them and they'd begun to see how
lonely it must have been for him, having only his parents to
confide in. Ching had been so jealous and resentful of Kal's
powers, that he hadn't stopped to consider the other side of the
coin; the necessity of hiding and suppressing his abilities ...
always having that feeling of not quite belonging.

Zara had seen the first glimmer of change in her cynical
lieutenant's eyes as he'd listened to Kal's retelling of his
growing up years. She'd hoped this meant Ching was beginning to
accept the new Lord of the House of El, but she had
underestimated -- and he had kept hidden from her -- the true
nature and depth of his feelings.

***

At first Zara had stayed away from Ching's training sessions,
thinking Kal wouldn't want an audience. The fatigue he was
obviously feeling and the stiffness she saw in his movements she
accounted for by thinking he wasn't used to being without his
powers. But when she began to see shadows under his eyes, too,
she wondered if there was more to it than that.

Then, one morning, during their lesson in Kryptonian, she'd
accidentally bumped up against him and he'd flinched in pain.
He'd brushed aside her concern and assured her he was fine, but
she'd been suspicious enough to sneak into the cargo bay during
that afternoon's training session.

The first thing she'd noticed was the gravity level -- Ching had
adjusted it to a degree that was uncomfortable even to someone
who wasn't exerting themselves. She could only imagine what it
must feel like to the men -- especially Kal-El. New Krypton had
higher gravity than did Earth, so she would have expected Ching
to have gradually increased the level in order that Kal-El could
adjust himself to it. She couldn't imagine what Ching was
thinking of to be training someone in hand-to-hand combat at such
a level.

She'd watched the struggling, sweating men, listening to Ching
barking out his commands and hearing the derisive tone in his
voice ... taunting his opponent. Kal-El's breathing was coming in
ragged gasps, but he kept trying to do what was expected of him;
determination etched hard on his face. Zara was about to call a
halt when Ching saw an opening in Kal's defenses and used it,
knocking his feet out from under him and throwing him down. Zara
cried out, distracting Ching momentarily so that he lost his grip
on Kal. Without Ching holding onto him, Kal-El hadn't been able
to slow his forward momentum and had hit the floor hard. Zara had
stared in horror at Kal-El, unconscious and gasping for air, and
then turned her fury onto Ching.

She'd found and switched on the controls which would slowly and
automatically restore a saner gravity level to the room and then,
stalking forward, she'd slapped Ching -- hard. He'd once accused
her of having lost sight of their objective, now she turned his
own words against him.

How could he do a thing like this? Was he trying to kill Kal-El?
She grabbed both men's jackets from where they lay on nearby
crates and covered Kal, ignoring any claims Ching might have had
to his own garment, then ordered him to hold the other man to
help ease his breathing while she pressed a towel against the cut
on Kal's head.

They'd had a royal argument that day, hissing and spitting at one
another over Kal-El's unconscious form, but it had cleared the
air. By the time a normal gravity level had been restored and
they'd gotten Kal into his own bed, they'd reached a better
understanding, and they'd outlined a more reasonable training
schedule.

She'd been astounded to hear that Ching still believed her to be
infatuated with Kal-El, because she'd thought they'd left that
foolishness behind them on Earth. As the only other member of
their party who was of noble blood, she'd considered it her duty
to instruct Kal-El in matters relating to his heritage, and his
House. There was nothing more to it than that.

It had taken some convincing, but eventually she'd made Ching
understand that she saw in Kal the brother she'd never had --
only that, and nothing more. Once that misunderstanding had been
cleared up, it had been possible for Ching to begin to be more
tolerant of his "pupil."

"You gradually won him over, didn't you, Kal-El?" she said to the
unresponsive figure on the cot. She reached out a finger to
lightly trace the scar left by that cut. "Just as you won over so
many others on New Krypton. They were suspicious of you at first,
weren't they? ... as Ching had been. But your sincerity and
genuine willingness to help, your sense of humor and your
gentleness made you many new friends."

She laughed softly at a sudden memory. "I don't think I've ever
told you this, but I knew things were going to be all right
between you and Ching the day he came to me boasting about how
you'd thrown him during practice. You'd used some trick you said
you'd seen in a fight back on Earth. It was a move he didn't
know, Kal-El, and he was impressed by it. With his soldier's
mentality, he was bound to respect anyone who could prove himself
a worthy opponent. Did you notice how his attitude towards you
began to change after that? I've often wondered."

She paused, but not because she was expecting an answer. It was
more to give herself a chance to think.

She studied the still face near hers. "Such a little thing, but
it was the final key, wasn't it? You two became as brothers;
working together -- talking and planning, long into the night
sometimes. I think you confided in him more than in anyone,
didn't you?"

She moved, changing her position on the pallet slightly, to ease
a cramp in her right leg. Her movement disarranged the elaborate,
embroidered cloth which covered him, and she smoothed it out
again with gentle hands.

"In the beginning you spoke to me of Earth and the people you'd
left behind. Those were the only times on New Krypton when I
heard you speak in English. At some point you stopped, though,
and I always meant to ask you about it. I knew you still longed
for your home because I would sometimes see you looking up at the
night sky while fingering the ring Lois had given you. I wish now
that I had gone to you instead of silently walking away. Maybe
you needed someone at that moment, and now ... I'll never know."

She felt tears forming and got up hastily, pacing to the other
end of the bare room and back again. Once more, she felt that
tightening in her chest.

So many sacrifices! Had it all been worth it? Had they done the
right things?

There were no answers for her, though. Not from her surroundings,
nor from the silent figure on the cot ... not even from her own
heart. She had to *believe* that their purpose, their cause, had
been noble, otherwise ... how could she face the future and all
the work that still lay ahead? Otherwise ... how could she bear
to recall the past?

Zara resumed her pacing, agitated by all the emotions she could
feel welling up within her; guilt, remorse, sadness, and helpless
anger. If only they'd been a little more careful. If only they
hadn't allowed their elation over their apparent victory to blind
them to impending danger. If only they'd stopped, just for a
moment, to remember with whom they were dealing.

***

Lord Nor. A hated and hateful individual whose sole purpose in
life seemed to have been to make those around him as miserable as
possible while he, himself, performed whatever despicable acts
occurred to his twisted mind.

Even as a child, he'd been feared by his peers and suspected of
committing various crimes, but nothing could ever be proven and
his father had been powerful enough to ensure that his son never
came up before a magistrate. As he'd grown, however, he'd
broadened his scope until, it was widely believed, even his
father was afraid of him. Whether that fear had been justified or
not, Nor's father *had* died mysteriously when the young lordling
was only 15, suddenly making him Lord Nor, and head of his
household.

Everyone had been scandalized by his subsequent behavior: forcing
his mother out of her dead husband's house and back to her own
family; sending his only brother off into dangerous territory on
an expedition to discover new sights for possible mining;
hurriedly marrying off his youngest sister to his closest crony,
instead of to her birth-husband; and refusing to allow his other
sister's union to her birth-husband, a man who had openly
condemned Nor's actions in the past.

No one was surprised when the expedition, which had left with 20
men, returned with only three, but all were offended by the party
Nor threw to "mourn" the fact that his brother was not among
those who had made it back. Everyone whispered when the
six-months-married-sister gave birth to a full-term, stillborn
child, and most were sympathetic to Nor's mother at the disgrace
of being cast out of her home. To a man, however, they'd laughed
behind Nor's back when his other sister's birth-husband managed
to spirit her out of the house during one of the wild parties the
young Lord liked to throw for his friends.

The laughter had infuriated Nor, but instead of striking out and
possibly doing something foolish, which would have given the
Tribunal an opportunity to charge him with an actual crime, he'd
become coldly calculating. While outwardly cleaning up his act,
he'd worked behind the scenes, consolidating his power, first
with those most easily intimidated and later with marriages and
pacts entered into with him by the unsuspecting. By the time the
rest of New Krypton had awakened to the fact that he was the
embodiment of evil, he had people who answered only to him placed
in many key positions (including in the Tribunal and the
Council), and he owned, or had influence over, one-third of the
arable land as well as almost one-half of the mining interests.
He was now a force to be reckoned with and knowing that, he began
to be bolder.

His agenda became clearer, but his methods remained obscure. Even
when something was suspected, it could never be proven and with
his powerful friends he was able to "arrange" that proof was
unobtainable. In twenty years' time he'd married and buried three
wives, arranged marriages with several households for his
children, and now that his House was aligned with most of the
minor houses and two of the major ones, he'd set his sights on
the biggest prize of all -- the House of El, and eventual rule
over all of New Krypton.

***

Zara stopped her pacing, standing still until her footsteps no
longer echoed through the cool room. The chill in the cargo bay
matched the chill she remembered feeling in her belly when her
father had told her of his suspicions about Lord Nor's plans --
marriage to her, which would have given him access to two of the
oldest, most prestigious, and richest Houses on New Krypton.

As one of Jor-El's closest confidants, her father had been privy
to Jor's plans for his son. His final visit to his boyhood friend
had been just weeks before Krypton had exploded. He'd tried one
last time to persuade Jor-El and Lara to join the colony on New
Krypton with him and his family. Jor had refused, insisting that
the young Kal-El would be better off away from New Krypton. He
believed there were forces at work there -- self-serving,
malicious forces -- which he feared even more than he did the
self-destructive, geological ones lurking beneath the surface of
his home planet.

Jor-El and Lara had listened politely to all of the arguments put
forth by the Lord of the House of Ra, but they'd remained adamant
about completing their work before they joined the colony. They
knew time was growing short, for they'd already sent their people
ahead to New Krypton, but they were determined to continue their
search for a more suitable, and more secure, home for Kal-El.
They would board the first available transport once their son was
safely away -- not before.

Her father, always quick to be hurt and the first to forgive, had
left his friend with harsh words on his lips and an ache in his
heart. When he'd learned of the explosion of Krypton, he'd
mourned Jor-El as he would have a brother, refusing to arrange
another marriage for Zara even though his contemporaries called
him foolish. No! Jor-El's friend would abide by their pact,
hoping against hope that somehow the young Kal-El had indeed been
sent off-planet in time.

To honor his lost friend, he'd safeguarded the lands and property
which had been deeded to Jor-El's family -- holding them in trust
for the day when the true Lord would return and claim them. As
the only child of her house, Zara would one day take her father's
place as steward of those lands -- control of Zara would
therefore give Nor control of both the House of Ra and the House
of El.

What no one could have foreseen, and what would eventually make
the House of El such a prize to Nor's greedy eyes, was what would
be discovered underneath the pebbly soil of its western-most
quadrant. Possession of it would increase Nor's prestige in the
eyes of the people of the New Krypton, ally him with the best
Houses, and make him rich ... extremely rich.

With Nor closing in, Zara's father had been forced into a
desperate decision. Searching his memory for clues from long ago
conversations, and using all the means at his disposal, he'd
narrowed the probable destinations for Kal-El's ship to one
possible location -- a place called Earth. Sending his only child
with his most trusted bodyguard to search for the young Lord
Kal-El, he knew he could be putting himself at risk, but he had
little choice.

Kal-El, if they could find him, would be an unexpected obstacle
for Nor -- the last line of defense against an implacable enemy.
The bitterest thought of all to the Lord of Ra, was that this
might merely be a stopgap measure -- that he might be putting his
best friend's only son in mortal danger to protect that which was
already doomed to be lost. The thought of the treatment Zara
would receive at Nor's hand, of what Nor would do to defile the
noble name of El, and of the sufferings of Jor's people under
such monster, compelled Zara's father to try, despite the risks.

It was no comfort to remember that if they'd listened to Jor-El,
they might not be in this situation now. He, and a handful of
other Council members, had urged caution and foresight in the
selection of the first colonists. They'd argued for diversity of
skills and a sampling from each of Krypton's social strata to
make up the pool of colonists.

Instead, officials had opted for quantity of cash over quality of
population -- giving the nod to whomever could pay the most,
rather than to those with the most to offer. Consequently, the
"cream" of Kryptonian society, their servants, workers,
bodyguards and chroniclers had journeyed first, leaving behind
skilled artisans and technicians who were not tied to a
particular House. There had been protests, but it was considered
logical to make as much money as possible with the first wave of
trips in order to finance -- at reduced rates -- flights for the
next group. Neither the population nor the government had
awakened in time to the true seriousness of the situation.

Many on New Krypton had often wished that more scientists or
researchers had made the journey instead of Nor and some of his
cohorts. Now, they were locked with him in a critical battle for
control of this space rock they were all inhabiting.

***

Zara had taken a tender farewell from her father, knowing she
might not see him again. In the past, Ching had managed to
deflect two attempts on the old Lord's life, and she was afraid
for her father's safety once this most trusted and resourceful
ally would be gone.

It had been a relief to find her father still alive upon her
return, but her relief had been fleeting. From Nor's behavior
towards them, it was clear that he was still certain of eventual
victory. What they didn't learn until later was that he'd decided
to set his sights on a higher goal.

Based on his later actions, and also on testimony given by former
associates at Nor's posthumous trial, they'd been able to piece
together his plan. If he could have succeeded in removing Kal-El
from his path, there would be no one left to stand between Nor
and his marriage to Zara. As Kal-El's widow, Zara would have come
into possession of all the assets of his House -- and Nor would
have been able to style himself as the Lord of the House of El.
As Lord Nor-El he would have had much more power than he would
have had as a mere steward.

With such a prize in the offing, Nor could afford to be patient.
He knew it was only a matter of time before someone would make a
mistake -- a fatal mistake. Then, a few well- chosen threats to
the grieving young widow regarding the fragile state of her
father's health would surely make her more amenable to becoming
his fourth Lady. After the wedding, a word or two in his bride's
father's ear would no doubt persuade him to sign certain
necessary papers in exchange for assurances that his daughter
would be treated as a lady ... and not as a whore.

There was only the matter of this new, so-called Lord Kal-El. Nor
had only half-believed the things Tez had told him about Kal-El.
When Nor saw Kal for himself, he was not impressed. The young
Lord looked strong, but Nor had defeated bigger men -- men with
more wisdom and experience than Kal seemed to possess. The defeat
of Tez must have been sheer chance.

So Nor had made his plans and waited, smug in the certainty of
his victory.

***

Zara walked back towards the pallet and stood looking down at the
quiet figure on the cot.

"He never understood you, did he, Kal-El? Anymore than you could
understand him. He watched in amusement as you worked to learn
Kryptonian ways, making derisive comments about your attempts to
speak the language. He made light of your efforts to get to know
the people, high or low; the way you listened rather than
commanded, how open you were with everyone. He thought you a
fool, beneath contempt, and a less than worthy opponent.

"And you ... it took you a while to see just how wicked he really
was, didn't it? You always believed there must be *some* good in
everyone, even Nor. Even after you'd acknowledged the extent of
the evil that was in him, it was difficult for you to combat his
plots because you were incapable of thinking the way he did. It's
good we had Ching for that -- if not for his strong sense of duty
and honor he probably would have made an excellent criminal.

"That's why your partnership with Ching worked so well. He could
recognize the good you were accomplishing with the people, and
you knew you could count on him to provide counterattacks for
each of Nor's moves. Between you, you made a formidable opponent
for Nor, stepping time and again between him and his ambitions,
until, in his frustrations over his continuing lack of success,
he grew careless."

Unhappy over a Council ruling which hadn't gone his way, Nor had
accosted and publicly assaulted a wily old Lord who'd managed to
persuade all the members not on Nor's payroll to vote against
him. Nor had correctly, if belatedly, connected this small
insurrection with Kal-El's growing popularity and the fact that
many people saw something in him which gave them hope. His anger
had spilled over and since Kal-El, the true object of his hatred,
was out of reach he'd attacked another -- the grinning ancient
one standing in front of him.

Public outrage had been immediate and encompassing. Demands for
his imprisonment and the seizure of his lands and property began
to be heard. People, who heretofore had been too terrified to
speak up, now came forward and told of witnessing atrocities or
being privy to other evidence. The Tribunal met and it was
decided that Lord Nor should be "invited" in to answer the
various charges being made against him. But when the magistrates
had gone to collect him, he was nowhere to be found.

Soon, raids were being reported by outlying households; food,
clothing, bedding ... and women, were disappearing. Men were
being attacked, fields and out- buildings burned. Soldiers and
officers of the law were dispatched to subdue and capture the
brigands, but without success. One bloody battle followed
another. They'd been unable to stem the flow of weapons to Nor
and his followers, and they couldn't find their hideouts. It
seemed like a stalemate ... until a message came from Nor's
camp.

Hand-to-hand combat with Kal-El was what he demanded. If he lost,
he'd turn himself in; if he won, some arrangement would be worked
out whereby he'd pay restitution to the families of his victims
or whatever else the Tribunal deemed necessary to re-establish
himself in the eyes of the people of New Krypton. They'd sent his
courier back to him with a response not to his liking ... and the
raids had resumed.

Two weeks later, the offer was made again, and the implication
was clear. It was public blackmail. Either he got his fight with
Kal-El or the killings, rapes, and thieving would continue.
Officials convened once more, less self-assured than before, and
asked the young Lord of the House of El to help them.

Ching was bitterly opposed to any contact between Kal and Nor.
Knowing how treacherous the man was, Ching was afraid for Kal.
The Council made light of his concerns, saying that every
precaution would be taken to ensure the safety of everyone
involved -- what could one man do against all of them?

Kal-El had put a hand on Ching's shoulder to silence him, then
looking at his friend, but speaking to the room at large, he'd
agreed to meeting Nor. Only Ching and Zara had been close enough
to him to hear his sad, "I have no choice" over the clapping and
cheering that had erupted in the Hall.

A time and a place for the contest were set and plans were made
to prevent, absolutely, Nor being able to carry out whatever
devious plot he might be forming.

"But all our precautions were for naught, weren't they, Kal-El?"
She lowered herself to the pallet once more, and leaning forward,
rested her head against his shoulder. "You didn't deserve this,
Kal. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

Only silence greeted her words. No hand came up to pat her
shoulder, no voice spoke up to tell her not to worry. She would
never again hear his voice, or see his smile or feel his
reassuring arm across her back. That would be her penance, she
knew, to live with the memories of his kindnesses and his
laughter, to know that she and all of New Krypton had lost
forever a hero ... someone to believe in.

That's what Kal-El had been to many, many people. Yet if you'd
asked individuals to describe what he'd meant to them, the
answers would all be different. The Old Ones might recall how
he'd sat at their feet, literally, drinking in all they could
tell him about old Krypton and his family, while the children
would speak of the Earth stories he'd told them in his funny
Kryptonian.

The workers still talked about how he'd visit with them and work
beside them. They'd been astounded -- Lords didn't do such
things! He'd laughed and told them about growing up on a farm and
doing chores. He was used to handling tools and getting dirty,
and they'd soon counted him as one of them.

He'd wanted to see all there was to see, and help out wherever he
could. The people and the ruling families had at first been
suspicious of him, but his quiet friendliness and genuine
interest in everyone and everything had eventually won the day.

Traveling with his bodyguards, he'd managed to visit all the
tenants and workers who lived on his lands. He was curious about
everything; from farming to mining, from food preparation to
construction. He asked questions and he listened, and he learned
some things which astounded him.

He'd already been told by Zara's father that the bulk of his
wealth was derived from the sale of a unique substance which was
mined and processed on his land. This material was invaluable for
constructing houses that could withstand the all- too-frequent
earthquakes which shook their adopted planet. What he hadn't been
told was that many of his own people could afford to purchase
only the most inferior grade of this substance.

It wasn't considered expedient to make the higher grade available
to all the people -- it might encourage them to spend too much
time building and maintaining houses which were too large, when
they could be better occupied with other things. After all, each
Lord looked after the people entrusted to him, and provided
assistance when necessary -- that was expected. They knew, as the
people could not, that money needed to be spent on more important
things: developing new technologies, maintaining a strong
fighting and peace-keeping force, and financing the government
and the courts.

That was all well and good, Kal-El had told Ching and Zara, but
he didn't want to see one more child hurt in a earthquake if he
knew of a way to prevent it.

Publicly thanking the Lord of the House of Ra for the fine and
honorable stewardship he had provided for the House of El and its
people, Kal had then quietly gone about making some changes. He'd
raised his workers' salaries by a fair percentage, while lowering
the price of the earthquake- proofing substance by an equal
amount. Zara's father had been livid -- hadn't the boy been
listening?

The blow to Kal-El's personal economy, which the old Lord had
direfully predicted, never came about, however. True, there was a
slight dip in the revenues for a while, but eventually they had
to hire more miners and processors to keep up with the demand.
Additional workers, and more importantly, workers with money to
spend, meant the shopkeepers and market managers were happy.
Trade picked up, which made some of the other Lords take notice.
Several of them visited Lord Kal-El and went thoughtfully back
home, to institute some changes of their own.

Lord Nor and his cronies began to be aware that their people were
deserting them faster than ever before, seeking asylum with
Kal-El or one of the Lords who thought and acted as he did. Nor
watched grimly as his power base shrank a little more with each
passing month. His efforts to stem the rising tide of this
upstart Lord's popularity had met with little success and his
assassins had been singularly inept. Thwarted in his attempts to
ridicule, neutralize or eliminate Kal-El, his frustration had led
to his making that fatal error in the Council Hall, his own
death, and ultimately, the division and dissolution of his
House.

***

Zara raised her head from Kal-El's shoulder to look at his face
once again. "If only we could have held out against Nor a little
longer, you could have done so much more."

Which isn't to say that everything had gone his way or that
Kal-El hadn't made mistakes of his own. Not everyone had welcomed
him or accepted him -- there were a couple of the old Lords who'd
refused, to the very end, to even acknowledge his right to claim
his place as the head of the House of El.

There were also times when he was tired and discouraged, but he
was careful to let those feelings out only with Zara or Ching.
She often thought his experiences as Superman must have helped
him in those instances. Superman couldn't afford to let his
feelings show, either.

Looking back now, as she was doing, and reflecting on all that
had happened, she thought that he'd probably been more lonely on
New Krypton amongst his own people than he'd ever been on Earth.
It was easier now for her and Ching to understand why he'd chosen
to be Clark Kent rather than Superman ... why he'd suppressed his
abilities and gifts. Ching had once referred to Kal-El's use of a
disguise as "skulking around," and had been exasperated that he
hadn't "imposed what he knows to be a better way" upon the people
of Earth.

Watching Kal as he had shown the same patience and consideration
to each person he encountered, they'd realized that imposing
anything on anybody was not his way. He preferred to be accepted
for who and what he was inside, rather than as Superman or Lord
Kal-El.

***

Her own personal memories of this man, though, included something
so intimate that she'd never be able to share them with anyone
but Ching.

During their journey to New Krypton, Zara, Ching and Kal had
talked about the various methods they would use to block Nor's
schemes. One of the first and most important things would be to
publicly affirm Kal and Zara's commitment to their pre-arranged
marriage and the alliance between their two powerful houses. This
would necessitate the appearance of an actual union -- they'd
have to share a room. Zara tried to take a pragmatic view of
this, knowing it was part of the plan. Kal-El had agreed to it,
but it was clear he was uncomfortable with it -- his own forced
separation from Lois, and his growing friendship with Ching made
this difficult for him. What they hadn't counted on was Nor's
response.

He'd appeared to accept their avowals, and then bided his time.
When there was no sign of a future heir, he'd started a
whispering campaign against Kal-El, calling him a eunuch and
other things even more unkind. Kal had been unconcerned when he'd
heard these stories, but Zara and Ching were not. They knew, as
he didn't, what a disgrace it was for a Kryptonian man not to be
able to father children.

Zara had gone to Kal and, keeping her eyes downcast, had
explained the seriousness of the situation, telling him she would
understand if he felt he needed to disprove the rumors. The
silence that had followed her pronouncement was a long one.
Finally, she could stand it no longer and had glanced up. He
hadn't been looking at her, though, he was looking at the ring
hanging from the chain which he always wore around his neck.
Without taking his eyes from the ring, he'd said, "I love Lois,
Zara, and I always will. I know you love Ching ... and he loves
you. Keeping those relationships safe is more important to us
than what people might think, don't you agree?"

He had looked at her then, and she had nodded slowly.

"Good," he'd said. "Then we won't need to talk about this again."
He'd lovingly replaced the ring and its chain inside his shirt,
next to his heart, and walked away. They'd never spoken of it
again. He'd continued sleeping on the floor in their room and
giving her the bed, and if the rumors ever did bother him, he
never let on.

***

In fact the only time he got to lie in that bed was when they
brought him to it after the fight, when Nor's treachery had
wounded and poisoned him. Ching and the doctors had decided they
could guard him more easily in his own house than in a healing
center. So he'd spent his last pain- filled days on New Krypton
in that bed, using his dwindling energies to ensure that Nor's
final act of perfidy would not succeed in destroying the House of
El, and plunging them all into civil war.

She'd stood beside that bed with Ching and the planet's ministers
as Kal-El had outlined his plan, arguing eloquently for his
unorthodox solution. She'd helped to steady Kal's hand as he'd
signed the official document which would make Ching his brother
by law, just as he had so long been in deed, and she'd knelt
beside Ching at the foot of that bed as they were pledged to each
other in the presence of the Lord of their House. And finally,
much, much later, after all the ministers and officials had left,
she'd sat by the side of that bed, holding his hand as he'd
slipped into unconsciousness, aided by the drugs he'd refused to
take until all the legalities had been completed. He hadn't
wanted anyone to be able to say later that while drugged he'd
been coerced or manipulated into signing away his rights.

And now she was keeping her last promise to him ... to take him
home to those he'd loved the most.

***

She'd been able to tell when the drugs had begun to take effect
because he could finally relax his limbs and take a deeper
breath. The pain lines in his face had smoothed out and he'd
sighed softly as his eyes had closed. She'd had to listen closely
to hear his last request to her, but once she had there'd been no
hesitation on her part --

"Yes, Clark, I promise."

His eyes had flown open at that and he'd started to weep. "No one
has called me that in such a long ... long time."

She'd held him then until she could feel the drugs claiming him
once more, then she'd stayed beside him, watching over him as his
breaths got farther and farther apart ... until she couldn't see
his chest rise and fall any more. Only then had she let go of his
hand, and only then had she become aware of someone else still in
the room. Ching had come forward to stand beside her -- he'd been
there the whole time, guarding the door and giving his "brother"
the only thing he had left to give ... peace.

She'd stood, stiff from her long vigil, and he'd gathered her
into his arms. They'd wept together for the loss of someone
they'd both loved.

Zara came back to a sad, guilt-filled present. These memories of
past tears sparked new ones, and soon she was crying, her sobs
the only sound in that still, cold room.

***

The sun was just peeping over the top of the barn when Martha
heard the knock on the kitchen door. It must be Wayne, she
thought, needing Jonathan's help with something or other. She
dried her hands and went to the door.

So many months had passed since Clark had left for New Krypton,
that she'd stopped looking for him with every knock on the door,
so she didn't realize right away the significance behind the
visit of the vaguely familiar young woman who was standing on her
porch. It was only a few seconds, however, before she had a name
to go with the sad, young face ... Zara!

She looked past Zara, trying to see into the early morning gloom
... trying to locate her son. Finally, Zara's stillness, and the
probable reason for it, hit her and she could feel her knees
giving out.

Zara was through the doorway in a heartbeat, grasping the older
woman to her and whispering fiercely, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Martha collected herself and pulled back from Zara, composed now,
trying to be strong. "Where is Clark?"

"I'll take you to him. Is his father here?"

Jonathan. Oh, god ... how will Jonathan take this?

"Yes," Martha replied unsteadily. "He's down at the barn."

They were starting to go to him, when they heard a tragically
familiar "whoosh". Martha felt her heart leap into her throat at
that sound. She looked around to see Ching landing in the yard
with Lois in his arms. As soon as he set her down, Lois ran to
Martha and held her. Martha had seen tears in Lois's eyes, but
her voice was determinedly calm. "I'm here, Martha, I'm here.
Does Jonathan know?"

"Not yet."

They turned to go to the barn and saw Jonathan standing at its
door, pale and stricken. In his heart, he'd never let himself
believe that anything would happen to his son, and now that this
moment had come ...

His wife and the young woman he'd hoped someday to call
"daughter" hurried to his side.

***

They walked together to the clearing behind the house where Ching
and Zara had left the small orb ship. How well Lois remembered
that fragile-looking vessel! She'd worried about Clark traveling
all the way to New Krypton in it, but Zara had told her it was
only a shuttle -- that there was larger ship which would take
them the rest of the way.

Ching seemed to disappear inside the wall of the ship for a few
moments, and when he reappeared he was guiding a floating
platform which supported a cot-like bed. He brought the cot and
its lonely occupant to them, then stood respectfully back.

They moved forward tentatively -- Jonathan going to one side of
the cot, while Martha went to the other. Lois stayed by its foot,
looking down at someone she hardly recognized. It was Clark, but
an older-looking, careworn Clark, with the signs of his last
illness still upon his face. It was obvious that they'd dressed
the body with great care and respect, but the Kryptonian
ceremonial robes made him seem even less like "her" Clark.

Martha laid her head lightly upon his chest and Lois could see
that she was silently weeping. Her own throat felt tight as she
watched Jonathan put one hand on his wife's trembling back and
the other on his son's pale forehead.

Zara's sad, tremulous voice broke the stillness. "We've brought
him home to you, as he asked. It was his last wish to be buried
on Earth." Her voice faltered, and she had to pause to steady
herself. "I wish I could tell you all that he meant to the people
of New Krypton. He was a hero ... and a friend, to many, *many*
people, all of whom miss him dearly." She stopped again and
looked helplessly in Ching's direction.

He stepped forward and facing Lois said, "I don't know if it will
help you in your grieving, but his murderer is himself dead."

Lois's head came up and she returned his regard steadily. "Yes.
Thank you. It does help."

"Thank you for bringing him home to us." Jonathan's
grief-stricken voice brought Lois's attention back to Clark's
parents. She saw that Jonathan had gone to his wife's side and
was holding her.

"Take care of them, please." These had been among the last words
Clark had spoken to her. Had he somehow known, or merely been
afraid, that he might not come back?

Lois walked forward now, taking the spot beside the cot that
Jonathan had left. An early morning breeze was playing through
Clark's hair, pushing it onto his forehead.

His hair is longer than it was when he left, she thought
inconsequentially, as she reached to smooth it back. She leaned
forward to kiss him. "I haven't forgotten my promise, Clark," she
whispered to him. "I'll take care of them for you."

She gazed into his much-loved face for a long time while the
silence in the clearing lengthened. Finally, she looked up at
Ching, her eyes glittering with tears. "How did he die?"

"He accepted a challenge to fight Lord Nor in hand- to-hand
combat. Kal-El won the fight. Nor, being the treacherous villain
that he was, then struck him down with a poisoned knife despite
all our precautions to make sure that no such weapons were
available."

"Without his selfless act," Zara added, "the fighting caused by
Nor's band of criminals would have continued and intensified. He
saved the lives of hundreds and possibly thousands of people."

Lois looked back down at Clark and thought, You couldn't not help
out, could you, sweetheart?

Zara's soft voice interrupted Lois's thoughts. "I'm sorry, but we
must return as soon as possible. If you could tell us where ...
"

Ching had stepped forward and was lifting Clark in his arms.

Jonathan said, "Yes, of course, we understand." He looked to his
wife and then back to Ching. "Would you take him to his room?"

Ching nodded and moved to follow Clark's parents. Lois fell into
step behind him, and Zara, pausing to collect a box which had
been under the cot, brought up the rear of the sad procession.

Just before she rounded the corner of the house, Lois paused to
look back at Zara. She seemed to be waiting for the others to get
out of sight, then she turned towards the ship and spoke loudly
and clearly some words that Lois did not understand, but assumed
were Kryptonian.

Starting forward again, Zara quickly reached the spot where Lois
was standing. Shifting the box to carry it under one arm, she
pulled on Lois's arm with her other hand. "Come," she said
urgently. "We must hurry."

Lois started to ask her what was going on, but something about
Zara's demeanor stopped her and she picked up her own pace. In no
time they'd caught up with Ching and the others.

Ching turned when he heard them. "Is it off?"

"Yes."

"Good." He looked to Jonathan. "Please, we must move quickly.
Where is Kal-El's room?"

Lois could see that both Jonathan and Martha were too stunned by
the sudden change in their visitors' manner to answer Ching's
question. "I'll show you," she said.

When she'd reached Clark's room and opened the door, Lois found
the windows shut and the curtains drawn. The bed had been
stripped and the throw rugs rolled up. She'd opened the curtains
and was starting on the windows when Martha came in carrying
clean bedding. Together Lois and Martha hastily made the bed,
just as anxious for Ching and Zara to be gone as they seemed to
be to leave.

Ching waited for the two women to finish, holding Clark easily,
as if he weighed no more than a pillow, but once the bed was
made, he and Zara began moving quickly again. While Ching gently
laid Clark down, Zara brought the box she was carrying to the
other side of the bed. Silently, they worked together to remove
Clark's heavy, funereal clothing.

"Oh, my god!" Jonathan's quietly stunned exclamation accurately
expressed what Martha and Lois felt. Clark's once beautiful body
now bore the marks of numerous injuries, new and old. The three
of them looked at each other in horror. Some of these he would
have gotten in that last fight, but the others ... What had they
done to him on New Krypton? What kind of hellish place had it
been?

Lois was so overwhelmed by this sight that at first she didn't
understand what else she was seeing. Zara was giving Clark what
looked like injections, using a device she'd taken from the box,
and Ching was tending to an ugly-looking wound which was just
above Clark's left breast. As he removed pink-stained bandages in
preparation for putting clean ones in their place, something
inside her snapped.

"He's not dead. Is he? He's alive." Anger flared up inside her.
"You ... you ... How could you?"

Ching answered her grimly, "We had no choice."

"No choice! You heartless ... ! How could you let us think he was
dead?"

Ching responded quietly, yet urgently, still not taking his eyes
from his task, "Because everyone on New Krypton thinks he is
dead, and they must continue to do so."

Lois looked at Martha and Jonathan -- their faces reflecting the
same shock and outrage she was feeling. "I don't care what the
people of New Krypton think or don't think." Lois's voice dripped
venom. "You and your precious Kryptonian logic ... if fooling
them was so important, couldn't you think of a way to get that
across without scaring *us* half to death?"

Zara had begun to gather her instruments but at this accusatory
question, she straightened. "There wasn't any other way. You
don't know the kind of people we're dealing with. Lord Nor is
dead, true, but some of his followers are still around, still in
power. Any hint that Kal-El is not dead would ruin everything he
risked his life for ... and all that he wanted for the people of
his House."

Lois started to protest again, but Martha put a hand on her arm
to stop her. Looking at Zara she asked reasonably, but with a
note of censure in her voice, "Why didn't you just explain what
you wanted, we could have ... "

"I wish that would have been possible, but there wasn't time.
Even now the chronometer on the ship is counting the minutes. If
we stay here too long, if there's too long a break in the
recording, someone may question what we were doing." She came
around the bed to face them. "Please believe me, if there had
been any other way, we would have taken it, but there wasn't."

"Is that what you were doing out there?" Lois asked. "Shutting
off a recording?"

"Yes."

Ching's voice recalled their attention. "These bandages will do
for a while." He picked up the quilt that Martha had brought
earlier and covered Clark, then he, too, turned to face them.

"We must leave soon, and there are still things you must know, if
there is to be any hope of saving him."

Martha looked steadily into his eyes. "You mean, he might still
die?"

***

Ching nodded.

Martha glanced quickly at Jonathan and Lois, then turned back to
Ching. They couldn't afford the luxury of recriminations or
regrets now. All that mattered was Clark. "Tell us," she said.

Zara took up the tale. "The poison Nor used is one for which we
were unable to find an antidote. It works by gradually inhibiting
the ability of the body's tissues and major organs to use water.
The resulting death is slow ... and painful. Wounds can't heal
and toxins build up ... "

"We did everything for him that we could," Ching interjected,
"but nothing worked against this poison. When we realized we
couldn't save him on New Krypton, Zara and I decided to gamble on
getting him back to Earth in time for your yellow sun to help
him.

"We revealed our plan to a physician who has long been a friend
to Zara's family and who also knew, and admired, Jor-El. He
tended to Kal-El during his last days on New Krypton, and helped
us with the drugs we would need to feign his death. He is the
only person, besides Zara and myself, who knows the truth. Not
even her father knows.

"We've allowed everyone else to think that Kal-El died so he'll
be able to stay here on Earth, with you. No one will come looking
for him. He'll be able to live out his life in the only place
that has ever been home to him."

"If he survives."

Ching looked at Lois. "Yes. If he survives."

Zara brought the box to the foot of the bed. "In here," she
explained, her voice breaking a little, "are the instructions
you'll need to care for him. I've written it all down in the back
of one of his notebooks, translating it for you from the doctor's
notes, which were in Kryptonian."

"Notebooks?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes. He wrote in them every day until he became too sick to do
so." She opened the box, revealing other things besides just the
notebooks; the Superman suit he'd worn that last day on Earth,
photographs of Lois and his parents that he'd carried with him,
mementos of his visit to New Krypton ... but not the one thing
Lois hoped to see.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Zara at her
side, holding up a ring. "I'm sorry that I cannot also return to
you the chain, but it was broken and mangled beyond repair. Nor
cruelly tore it from Kal-El's neck during their struggle. It took
two days of searching before it was found." Zara tenderly placed
the ring in Lois's trembling hand. "He wore it every single
day."

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Zara ... " Ching gently prompted her.

She looked over at him. "Yes, of course, you're right. We need to
go." She reached into her coat pocket and brought out a small
box. She opened the box while handing it to Martha. "In these
vials is something to ease any pain he might feel upon awaking.
Instructions for administering it are in the notebook."

Martha took the box from her gratefully.

Only one last thing remained -- to make their farewells. Zara
went first, leaning over the bed to speak quietly to him in
Kryptonian, and gently kiss his forehead. Then Ching stepped
forward and laid his right hand lightly on Clark's chest, over
his heart. He, too, said something in Kryptonian, before turning
to take Zara's hand.

They were almost at the door when Lois stopped them. "You ...
loved him didn't you?"

Zara could feel her self-control beginning to break. She buried
her face in Ching's shoulder and felt his arms come around her.

He had to answer for them both. "Yes, we loved him very much."

"And ... you'll never know whether or not he survives, will
you?"

"No," Ching acknowledged sadly. "We'll never know." He tightened
his hold on Zara. "We dare not risk it -- even telepathically. If
Kal-El is to be left in peace ... if we are to have any hope of
fulfilling his wishes for the House of El, no one must ever know
what we have done."

Lois felt Martha and Jonathan come up behind her. She knew
without looking that Jonathan's arm would be across Martha's
shoulders protectively.

"Thank you," he said, "for everything." He held out his hand and
Ching took it, a lump in his throat at this simple Earth gesture.
His own people did not touch in this manner and he knew he would
miss his brother's touch very much.

For a moment longer they lingered, looking at the quiet figure on
the bed, at this room which had witnessed his growing, and at
these people who were so central to his happiness. Then they were
gone.

***

Clark's family decided right from the beginning that he *would*
survive, and that all their combined energies would go towards
accomplishing that one goal.

By the time Ching and Zara were on the porch, Martha had found
the right notebook and was reading over the instructions provided
by a physician light years away from Smallville. While Ching
reactivated the ship's recorder and collected the pallet, Lois
was phoning Perry with an excuse which would preclude her showing
up for work for the next few days. And before Zara and Ching
could complete their pre-flight checks, Martha, Jonathan and Lois
were already working out a schedule for keeping up the farm and
nursing Clark.

Someone was to be with him at all times, that was immediately
agreed upon, and yet the animals needed to be tended to, meals
for themselves prepared, periods of adequate rest set aside. So,
they settled upon a routine which was to occupy all their waking
hours for the next few days.

Everyone read and became very familiar with the treatments Clark
had already received, the extreme methods Ching and Zara had been
forced to use in order to try and save his life, as well as the
recommendations for his current care. They learned that the
drugs, which had slowed the progress of the poison by reducing
his life signs to the bare minimum, would also inhibit his body's
ability to absorb the healing properties of the earth's yellow
sun. It would be something of a race to see which would win.

***

Clark was cold. Colder than he'd ever thought it possible to be.
Cold beyond shivering, almost beyond feeling. Even worse than the
cold, though, was the complete lack of sound ... in fact, there
was nothing but "nothing" where he was. Nothing. Not even his own
heartbeat.

He didn't think he was dead because he felt that he was still
inside his body ... still knew he had a body. He'd shrunk inside
that body, though, until his essence -- the thing that made him
who he was -- was so small that it was in danger of disappearing
altogether. If that happened, Clark knew he would die.

He huddled inside himself, a tiny spark, all alone, and
frightened.

***

The first few hours after Ching and Zara had left were the
hardest, and the longest, for Martha, Jonathan and Lois. They
knew, from reading the doctor's notes, that the injections Zara
had given Clark would help his heart rate, temperature and
respiration return to more normal levels. They understood that
this would have to happen gradually.

Understanding that, and waiting patiently for it to happen,
though, were two different things.

Their natural inclination would have been to expose Clark to the
sun immediately, but the doctor had foreseen that and warned
against it. In this weakened state, and with his bodily functions
operating at such reduced levels, it would be all too easy for
Clark to become dehydrated, sunburned or suffer sun stroke. The
sunlight filtering in through the windows would have to suffice.
It was more important that he be kept warm, and that his wounds
were cleaned and dressed often. Once he was better, then he could
sit in the sun.

Once he was better ...

They were very careful, also, to follow the doctor's instructions
for their own safety -- sterilizing everything and wearing
surgical gloves whenever they tended to one of Clark's wounds. If
they were to come into contact with the poison, the Earth's
yellow sun would be no help to them.

Fortunately, since they were used to being isolated during
unpredictable Kansas winters, the Kents had most of what they'd
need to care for Clark at the farm already, and they knew they
could improvise rest. They wouldn't have to risk starting any
gossip by making a sudden run into Smallville for medical
supplies.

***

During those first anxious hours, there was hardly a moment when
all three of them weren't there by Clark's bedside. No one wanted
to leave him -- or the support they were receiving from each
other. When something else needed attention, it would get taken
care of, but quickly, and then all three would be back in his
room ... holding his hand, or rubbing his arms and legs; talking
to him or stroking his face and hair. They all felt it was
important to try and reach him, to let him know he wasn't alone
... and they all needed to touch him, be with him, to help them
believe that this was real.

Lois's admiration for Martha and Jonathan grew tremendously as
she watched them cope with their fears, and hers. She'd been fond
of them for a long time, but now she knew she loved them -- for
themselves -- almost as strongly as she loved Clark.

They fussed over her as they'd always fussed over their son;
making sure she took her alloted breaks, cajoling her into eating
and encouraging her when she became disheartened by the crawling
pace of Clark's progress.

It pleased her more than she could have imagined when she was
able to do the same things for them.

The clock's hands crept around as the hours passed, and they
finally began to see some improvement. He gained a little color
and his breathing became stronger. As his circulation increased
his skin grew a bit warmer to the touch, and his wounds drained
more readily, which necessitated more frequent changes of
bandages and linen.

All of these signs were encouraging, but Lois longed to see him
move, just a little ... even involuntarily. He lay absolutely
still. If it weren't for the fact that she could see the covers
rising and falling with each slight breath, she wouldn't have
been able to tell he was alive. She'd never seen anyone who
wasn't dead lay so completely motionless.

***

What was that? A voice? ... or some other sound? Had it even been
anything?

There it was again ... wasn't it? No ... Yes ...

Maybe ...

Like the last echo in a deep canyon, the sound that wasn't quite
a sound remained tantilizingly beyond his grasp.

Even if he couldn't comprehend it, he greeted it with relief. At
least there was a sound, no matter how faint or garbled. Where
there was sound, there was "something," and with the arrival of
"something," the "nothing" had fled.

Clark knew he wasn't alone.

***

Martha and Lois carried the sandwiches and glasses of iced tea
into Clark's room and set them on the dresser. The three of them
had exhaustively discussed the rival merits of eating in shifts,
and whether to leave one or two people with Clark, and who should
go first, and who was hungriest, or least hungry, until finally
they'd settled on fixing something simple and eating together in
Clark's room.

The room was quiet, each one forcing down food they didn't want
but knew they should eat. Jonathan sat in a chair on one side of
the bed, while Martha and Lois perched on the bed; Martha by
Clark's shoulder and Lois near his legs. When Jonathan put his
half-eaten sandwich aside, and reached to hold his son's hand
again, the two women exchanged glances, but didn't say anything.

The silence in the room was offset by songs of birds in the trees
outside Clark's window, and the sound the breeze made as it
surfed among the leaves. A beautiful spring day, Lois thought, as
she looked out the window, past ruffling curtains and up towards
the cloud-studded sky. The kind of day when a guy might want to
be out flying, feeling the wind in his face, and smelling the
flowers and the newly-turned earth.

All of a sudden her throat felt too tight for swallowing and she
put her plate down beside her. She heard a slight sniff and
looked up to see Martha trying to smile reassuringly at her
through her own tears. Simultaneously they reached to hold each
other's hands, wanting to give to one another what they, by
themselves, did not have.

Jonathan's quiet voice broke the stillness. Unable to bear this
enforced inaction any longer, he'd found something to do which he
hoped would take their minds off of depressing thoughts. Opening
the first of Clark's notebooks, and shifting his chair closer to
his son's bed, he began to read aloud:

"Dearest Lois, Mom and Dad ... "

***

The sound was taking form. It was a voice. Clark was sure of that
now. Probably Ching or Zara ... maybe the doctor.

In his heart's memory, though, were other voices ... ones he knew
he'd never hear again. His mom's greeting -- all loving and warm,
but with laughter bubbling just below the surface. His dad's
calmer tones, giving good advice and strong support. Perry,
barking orders and galvanizing a newsroom full of reporters.
Jimmy's young, exuberant greeting, "Hey, CK!"

And Lois ... teasing, demanding, sardonic, questioning, tender,
scared, brave ... loving, oh so loving, Lois. His heart was full
of Lois and how many times he'd dreamed of being with her again.

If only he could have seen her, touched her ... held her, just
once more. The thought of what she would go through when she
learned of his death nearly crushed him, but the spark which was
him wasn't ready to accept death just yet. He would hold on as
long as he could.

***

Clark's notebooks were their solace. Whenever there was a break
in changing bandages, sterilizing sheets, or bathing wounds one
of them would read to the others about his first journey with
Ching and Zara, or of his adventures on New Krypton. It was
fascinating to look over his shoulder as he struggled to learn a
language which had 15 words for duty and only one for love, to
study with him the history of a people he'd believed to be long
dead to him, and to listen in on the plans for a defense against
a cruel and heartless enemy.

His skills as a writer made his descriptions of the people he'd
met and the places he'd visited very real to his readers. They
came to see that his decision to go to New Krypton had been a
good one, and, despite all the loneliness and discomfort he'd had
to endure, they could see that he'd thought so, too.

He'd touched so many lives, so many people, but with all the good
he'd been able to do, there was always the longing for home. And
home to him was, and always would be, Earth ... the farm ...
Metropolis. Whenever he wrote of "family" it was Martha and
Jonathan and Lois who were mentioned, not Jor-El or Lara. His
birth parents were people to be proud of, certainly, and they had
given him life, but they were not his family.

The closest thing he'd had to a family on New Krypton was his
friendship with Ching and Zara. He'd hoped to establish a
relationship with the last remaining member of the House of Lo --
the House his mother, Lara, had left when she'd married Jor-El --
but it hadn't worked out.

His uncle had greeted him kindly enough, if unenthusiastically,
but it was clear that the elderly widower did not want company.
He did show Clark a hologram that had been taken of Lara when she
was a young girl, and he related to his nephew the few memories
he still retained of her, the youngest of his sisters.

When Clark had said good-bye, his uncle had invited him to visit
again, but in a rather absent manner, as if merely adhering to
proscribed social norms. There was no warmth or sincerity in his
invitation and Clark, much as he would have liked to have learned
more about his mother, had not felt inclined to accept it.

He was already almost unbearably homesick, but that incident had
made his longing for home even more acute. He told them in his
writings how much he'd missed talking with them, asking their
advice, and feeling their love. There was no one on New Krypton
he could laugh with or share things with, the way that he could
with them. No one he could hug or be hugged by in return.

***

Surrounded day and night as he had been, by Kryptonian reserve
and Kryptonian logic, he couldn't help but compare it to the very
different life he'd known growing up in Smallville. He'd always
carried inside him those same characteristics, but they'd been
tempered by the loving upbringing he'd received from his adopted
parents. After living for a while in a society created by almost
unrelieved reserve and logic, he was even more grateful than
before that Jor-El had risked so much to send him to Earth.

Martha and Jonathan listened sadly as Lois read this part of his
story aloud. One of the thoughts which had reconciled them to
Clark's going to New Krypton was the hope that he'd meet and be
welcomed by members of his extended family.

***

He wasn't just a spark any longer. His essence -- his being --
was growing stronger. It was more like the flame on a candle,
which was good in one way because it meant he was making
progress. On the other hand, this greater awareness gave him a
much better idea of how far he still had to go.

The cold had retreated enough so that it no longer troubled him.
There were more sounds, too. Indistinct and unrecognizable as
yet, but they were there.

What he was waiting for now was for his sense of touch to return.
He knew he must be lying in his bed, but he couldn't feel the
mattress beneath him, or the covers above him. Feeling as
disconnected as he was from his body, it was doubly disconcerting
to feel that his body was disconnected from everything else. He'd
always taken that for granted -- being able to feel, being aware
of where *he* ended and everything else began. At this moment, he
would have given almost anything to be able to tell where his
toes were, or his hands.

***

Martha looked at her watch again, and then re-read the doctor's
notes.

"I'm not so sure about this, Martha."

"Neither am I, Jonathan, but the doctor wrote that at this point
Clark should be able to take sips of water. It's been several
hours since he received the injections and he'll need to take in
fluids to replace what he's been losing through his wounds."

"He hasn't moved, Martha," Lois said with concern in her voice.
"If he can't move, how do we even know he'll be able to swallow?"
Her face reflected the doubt they all were feeling.

"I don't know. The doctor must know how these drugs work, though,
and he said Clark would recover the use of his facial and neck
muscles first. I guess ... I guess we'll just have to trust that
it will all work out."

Lois smiled a little, remembering something Clark had once told
her about their relationship ... about taking a chance. "Clark
would certainly understand that."

It was now a little after five on what they all believed was one
of the longest days of their lives, and they were tired. Since
dawn they had been carefully nursing Clark and monitoring each
bit of progress. And, he had made quite a bit of progress ... but
he continued to lie so unnaturally still, that they couldn't
quite shake their fears for him. So, it was with great relief
that they saw his eyes open -- even briefly -- when they moved
him.

They managed to get him into a half-sitting position, leaning
against (and being supported by) Jonathan, who was sitting at the
head of the bed. It was such a boost to their morale to have seen
that brief sign of life, that they felt re- energized, and much
more hopeful about his ability to drink a little water.

Martha gave it to him a teaspoonful at a time, while Lois and
Jonathan looked on and offered words of encouragement. It was
difficult for him at first, and it seemed to hurt him to swallow,
but it got easier as they went on. He opened his eyes a few more
times, although they were fairly certain that he wasn't capable
of really seeing anything yet.

Things were going well -- they were all congratulating each
other, and starting to speculate on how quickly they might see
more improvement, when they heard a small sound of distress from
Clark. At first they couldn't imagine what could be wrong, but
then Martha noticed tiny beads of sweat on his forehead, and Lois
could feel the muscles in his arms and legs tightening into
spasms.

"He's in pain!" Jonathan exclaimed. "Where's that stuff Zara gave
you, Martha?"

Martha put the water glass and spoon on the bedside table so fast
that she almost tipped them over. She hurried over to the box,
where it sat on Clark's desk, and pulled out the container in
which were the vials of painkillers. By now Lois had joined her
and they both quickly scanned the notebook to refresh their
memories about the dosage.

"Please hurry," Jonathan pleaded from the bed, holding Clark and
trying to soothe him by word and touch.

"I will, honey, but I want to be sure we don't give him too
much." Martha's voice sounded so calm, that Lois was amazed.
However, when it came time to pour the correct amount into the
dosage spoon, she could see the older woman's hands shaking.

They brought the medicine to the bed and helped Clark drink it.
The sounds he was making were so pitiful that they made keeping a
steady hand that much harder.

***

Clark was pretty sure that one of the voices he could hear was
the doctor's. It was definitely a man's voice, but it belonged to
a man who was older than Ching. The other voices he wasn't sure
about yet.

His sense of smell was returning, too, even though it wasn't
working very well, yet. He would get vague impressions of scents,
but they were too transient for him to be able to identify them.

He felt, and yet didn't feel, himself being lifted.
Involuntarily, his eyes opened -- surprising him. It was
disappointing not to be able to see anything beyond blurry,
shifting shapes in black and white, but at least it was
something. After a bit of trying, he was able to open his eyes on
his own.

Someone put a spoon to his mouth and gave him something to drink
-- water he thought. It cooled his mouth, as he struggled to
coordinate the muscles necessary for the act of swallowing. The
first few swallows were uncomfortable to a throat unused to such
activity. As it got easier, though, the soreness diminished and
he began to realize how really thirsty he'd been.

He was just starting to be able to drink without having to think
about it, when he got his wish about being able to feel where his
toes were. Suddenly, he knew not only where his fingers and toes
were, but also where every muscle, tendon and bone was. The pain
came roaring back in a technicolor blast -- grabbing him by the
throat and threatening to choke off the fragile flame he'd been
so carefully nurturing. It was worse than the time before because
he couldn't move to ease the cramps and he couldn't tell anyone
how bad it was.

He struggled to escape it, but without success. It was robbing
him of all his hard-earned progress: the voices were fading, as
were the smells and his recently reborn sense of touch. The
"nothing" was returning and he was shrinking inside himself
again. He screamed in agony and frustration, but the sound went
no farther than his mind.

Bitterly disappointed, and terribly frightened, he didn't know
from where the help came, but gradually he knew that there had
been some. The primary colors that had been exploding in his
brain faded to soft blue-grays and green- browns as the pain gave
way to the anesthetics.

Released from its grip, he was able to relax and even could feel
his senses tentatively resurfacing. He was aware of his arms and
legs again and knew that someone was holding him. Just before he
could slip completely into unconsciousness, he recognized -- in
that split second between wakefulness and sleep -- in whose arms
he lay.

He knew these arms, for they had held him hundreds of times; he
knew this shoulder, for it had been there whenever he needed one
to lean on; and he knew these hands, for they had reached to
steady and guide him since before he could remember. They
belonged to his father ... and he knew he was home!

***

They watched in relief as Clark relaxed into the painkiller's
embrace.

"Oh, dear lord," Jonathan breathed shakily, clutching his son to
him -- his tears dropping onto Clark's dark hair.

Lois and Martha slowly straightened from where they'd been
bending over the bed.

"I'm sorry," Martha murmured. "I should have been faster. I'm
sorry."

Lois went to Martha's side. "Don't be, Martha. You were
wonderful."

"No," Martha shook her head slowly in a dazed reaction to the
suffering they'd just witnessed. "I should have been faster."

Lois was smiling sympathetically through her tears, as she
reached to hold the other woman. "You sound just like Clark does
when he thinks he could have done better on a rescue. And I'm
telling you the same thing I tell him ... " She paused, and drew
a halting breath. "You ... were ... wonderful."

"Oh, Lois, I ... I ... " She put her head on Lois's shoulder and
cried.

***

Lois lay on the living room sofa, watching for the first light of
dawn to come in through the east window. She'd gotten enough
sleep, and she felt rested, but she knew that if she showed up
too early for her shift, Martha would be concerned, so she stayed
where she was.

They'd made it through two days and nights now, and the rate of
Clark's progress seemed to increase with each passing day. Once
the healing process had well and truly begun, they'd practically
been able to watch it happening.

They were a team now, she and Martha and Jonathan. And, as
grueling as their ordeal had been, she wouldn't have traded
places with anyone. They'd even managed to have some fun
together, once they'd known that Clark was going to be all
right.

He slept so much that, once his wounds didn't need almost
constant attention, they'd had more time on their hands. They
kept returning to his notebooks, continuing to read them aloud to
each other, but Martha and Jonathan had also entertained Lois
with stories of Clark's childhood.

She'd been fascinated to hear more about how his various powers
had developed, but the ones that charmed her even more were the
ones about normal, everyday things. So, they told her about how
the treehouse came to be built, and about the time Clark asked
for a little brother for Christmas.

Martha had laughed while telling that one. "That's when I knew we
hadn't done as good a job of explaining adoption as we'd
thought."

Jonathan had fond memories of reading to Clark at bedtime or
taking him fishing and camping. "He couldn't join the Scouts, you
see, because he'd have to go on camping trips. And with his habit
of floating in his sleep, we couldn't risk it ... so I took him.
We had some fine times together. Never had to worry if our
matches got wet, that's for sure!"

Lois smiled to herself as she stretched, and prepared to get up.
No, with Clark around you'd never have to worry about that.

***

She passed Jonathan on his way outside to feed the animals, said
"Good morning," and got a cheery greeting and a hug in response.
Just as if I really were his daughter, she thought wistfully. Her
own father had never been that demonstrative.

Martha also treated her to a smile as she tiptoed into Clark's
room. "Did you get something to eat?" she whispered.

Lois nodded. "I made your tea while I was at it. It's waiting for
you. How are you doing?"

"Fine. A little tired, but I'll get some sleep as soon as I've
had something to eat." She looked over at Clark. "He had a good
night. Jonathan said he slept the whole time he was here, and he
was only awake twice with me. Not for very long ... just wanted
something to drink. And look ... " She lifted the covers off of
Clark's shoulder, so Lois could see his torso. "Most of the
bruises and smaller wounds have faded completely away now, as
have the old scars." Martha tucked him in again. "I'll bet the
rest will have disappeared by tonight."

"That's great, Martha," Lois said, as the two women hugged. They
stood arm in arm a moment more, looking down at a man they both
loved, then Lois turned to Martha. "You'd better get going, or
your tea will get cold. Jonathan and I can handle things for a
while."

"Thanks, honey." Martha gave Lois a quick kiss and a motherly pat
on the back, as she whispered, "See you later."

Lois watched her leave the room, then leaned over to lightly kiss
Clark good morning. Martha was right about the bruises and scars
being gone. He really did look so much better -- the changes were
quite striking, especially since she hadn't seen him for five
hours. He was turning back into "her" Clark again.

"Her" Clark ... who loved flying and who loved to take her
flying.

She reached for the notebook Jonathan had been reading from the
other night, and opened it, searching for a particular passage.
Finding what she wanted, she took the book to the chair beside
Clark's bed and sat down to read.

It had been his second month on New Krypton, and Clark had been
having a particularly rough time: Nor was in the midst of his
taunting campaign against Clark and Zara, some of the other Lords
were still giving him the cold shoulder, Zara's father was
holding endless meetings with him to show him all that had been
done to and for the House of El over the past 29 years, and many
of his own people hadn't begun to trust him yet. He was
discouraged and irritated ... tired and lonely, so he'd retreated
to his room and the solace of his writing:

"I don't know what to do, Lois. Nothing I do seems to make any
difference. How can I help people if they won't trust me?

***

"Oh, how I wish you were here.

"It was really bad today, sweetie. I felt as if I were drowning
in statistics and numbers and ledgers. The latest stuff spewing
from Nor's mouth is particularly foul, and there was another
attempt on my life. I wanted so desperately to get away, and for
a moment I thought I had. For a few seconds, it actually felt as
if I were flying -- that's how badly I wanted it.

"Always before, when things got too bad on Earth, I could just
think about the sky and suddenly I'd be there. Flying has always
been such a joy for me, but it's also been my safety valve -- a
means of escape, a way to cope.

"Today, when I realized I couldn't fly -- might never be able to
fly ever again -- it suddenly hit me that I might never see Earth
again. I guess I'd always known that that was a possibility, but
I'd never allowed myself to believe it because I couldn't bear
the thought of life without you. I'd been naive enough to think
I'd be able to come here, do what I needed to do and then go home
again.

"But, when I couldn't fly -- when I couldn't do what for me is as
natural as breathing -- reality suddenly slammed into me like a
wrecking ball. What if I can't do what I came here for? What if I
never get to go home again ... never get to take you flying
again?

"I'd do anything to be with you, Lois, and I'm not going to
believe that we'll never be together again. Somehow, there has to
be a way to get back to you, I just haven't found it yet.

"I'll be back, my love. We'll go flying. That's a promise,
Lois."

***

That night, Lois persuaded Martha and Jonathan to sleep in their
own bed and to set up a cot in Clark's room for her. He was still
weak and unable to stay awake long or say more than a few words,
but he'd made such wonderful progress, that Lois didn't feel
there was any reason to sit up with him any more. His parents had
agreed to her suggestion, but only on the condition that she call
them immediately if she needed any help.

It was a little after 3 a.m. when some strange noises woke her.
She slipped from her cot and crept to the side of the bed. The
sounds were coming from Clark! He was muttering something in his
sleep. He was dreaming!

Lois was so happy, she had to stop herself from running to get
Jonathan and Martha. Dreaming meant normal sleep -- not the
death-like sleep they'd been seeing for the past three days.
Normal sleep ... what a relief!

She continued to watch him, ready to help if the dream should
turn into a nightmare, but it didn't. When his dream ended, he
moved in the bed, talking a little in his sleep as he turned onto
his left side. She waited to see if he would shift positions
again, but he didn't ... so obviously that shoulder wasn't
paining him any more. She lingered a minute or two longer, but he
seemed to have settled down. With a smile of great contentment,
she headed back to her cot.

She opened her eyes in the morning and saw him awake, and
watching her. She was off the cot in two seconds and over to his
bed to find his arms already open to receive her.

They held each other, and stroked one another -- alternately
kissing and whispering endearments to each other. It was
wonderful and magical to finally be in each others' arms again.

***

Clark had lots of questions. Even though he'd known since the day
before yesterday that he was home, he hadn't been able to really
see or hear clearly enough -- or stay awake long enough -- for
them to be able to explain everything to him. His last clear
memories were of a room and people who were millions of miles
away on New Krypton. With a voice hoarse from disuse he asked her
how his return had come about.

She told him of Ching and Zara's sacrifice, and of their love for
him, and then held him while he grieved that he'd never get to
take his leave of them.

"They were really the closest thing I've ever had to a brother
and sister, Lois."

Jonathan peeked in to check on them and was overjoyed to see his
son awake, sitting up and feeling so strong. He called to Martha,
and Lois moved aside so Clark could hug and kiss his parents.
They couldn't get over how much better he looked -- almost like
his old self. Smiling and crying at the same time, they rejoiced
to have him back with them, filling him in on much that had
happened since his return.

Then Martha, suddenly practical, scolded herself for standing
around and talking when everyone must be starving. She gave Clark
another hug and kiss before bustling away to fix breakfast.
Jonathan left to get dressed and tend to the animals, but not
before promising to help Clark take a brief walk later on.

The excitement over for the moment, Lois fastened her robe with
its tie and turned to look at Clark. He'd laid back down in the
bed and looked a little tired after his parents' exuberant
greeting.

She smiled and went to sit next to him. He reached up to stroke
her cheek and she leaned into his hand before taking it in one of
her own and kissing it. The miracle of having him back with them
was so immense that she couldn't find any words to express what
she was feeling. She kissed his hand again and felt him tug on
her, pulling her towards him.

She chuckled a little through her tears, and allowed him to pull
her down onto the bed with him. She snuggled next to him and felt
his arms go around her. He kissed the top of her head and held
her a little tighter.

"I'm sorry, Lois, for putting you through all this."

She looked up at that. "No, Clark! You shouldn't be sorry. We've
been reading your notebooks, so we understand why you had to go,
and we're all proud of what you were able to accomplish. Don't be
sorry."

He was smiling down at her. "So, Zara brought my notebooks back,
too."

She nodded, then reached up to kiss him. "She also returned your
Superman suit and the photos you took with you ... and this." She
held up her left hand to show him the wedding ring.

His eyes widened in surprise and delight. "They found it! I
thought it was lost during the fight." He had taken her hand and
was turning it around so he could see the ring from all sides.

"Zara said they searched two days before they found it."

He kissed the ring, and then her hand. "It looks wonderful on
you."

"Yes, I think so, too." She leaned forward to meet his kiss. "I
think we should make it permanent, don't you?"

"Definitely."

"And the sooner, the better. Before anything *else* happens."

He laughed at the tone in her voice. "I don't think you have to
worry about me going to New Krypton anymore, Lois."

"New Krypton! You'll be lucky if I let you go to New Haven! Or
New Caledonia, or New Bedford, or New Anything, Buster! I plan to
keep you so busy you won't have time to even think about going
anywhere."

"Ohhhh! And how do you plan to do that?"

He watched as her teasing look turned to one of great love and
tenderness. "Like this!" and she kissed him again.

THE END