Now You're Gone

4

Lois silently cursed herself. This was the seventh time she had to use the Lady's Room within half an hour. Something was definitely wrong. It was only 1:30 PM. and she felt as if she had pulled an all-nighter at the Planet, and was running on empty, which was far from the truth.

The fight with Clark earlier drained her. That had to be it. Clark was being stupid. The app will only hurt them in the long run. The fact he couldn't see that was insane.

The fact she couldn't seem to stop fantasizing about Clark Jr. was also insane. She usually put a cap on those sexual urges till they were in private.

A sharp ache tore through her. She bit down on her tongue and clutched her midsection, sweat trickling down her brow. "No," Lois said to the empty bathroom, her voice choked and broken. Doubt crept into Lois' mind.

"Pull yourself together, Lane," she said to her pathetic reflection. "You partied a bit too hard last night, and now you're paying the piper."

Yeah, that was it.

Though, come to think of it, not once had alcohol crossed her lips last night. Clark slyly kept stealing her drinks, adamant she was pregnant. He had been singing that same tune since they returned from Smallville. She knew her body better than him. She was not pregnant.

Lois bowled over in pain as another poignant cramp blocked out all senses. She bit down on her tongue and refrained from calling out for Clark, which had become a knee-jerk reaction to any discomfort. May that be falling fifty stories to her death or battling with the glitchy TV. Lately, his saves had ended in heated passion.

She groaned.

She did not want to consider the alternative. She turned sideways and surveyed her profile in the mirror. Lois had opted to change out of her pants into a yellow sweater dress that hugged her body. Big mistake. She looked like a mini Jabba the Hutt. No wonder Cat thought she was pregnant.

Gently Lois brushed a hand over her bloated belly. It had to be just her imagination. Nope. That was not a baby in there. It was a food belly, nothing more.

But that was crazy, even for a food baby. If she were . . . she couldn't bring herself to even think the dreaded p-word . . . she won't be showing so soon. She couldn't be beyond eight weeks.

Her days with Clark were a blur. Conception could have happened at any point. She got goosebumps even thinking of being, you know . . . daily puking on Superman was not something easily forgotten. So far, she had only thrown up twice. Three, if you counted this morning with the coffee.

On the one hand, it would explain the extra alien the app picked up this morning.

On the other hand, it could be a fluke. How accurate could that aura-light sciency thingy be? It was a simple, unimpressive software. Lytener most likely fabricated the whole thing. But the E.T. Detector was right about Clark. As much as Kal-El wanted to be human, he wasn't. It begged the question, what if the app was right about her too? Crazier things had happened in Metropolis than an app detecting an alien-human fetus.

There was no mistaking her comfortably plump belly. She looked like she was already in her second trimester. Clark was onto something. Lois dug the pregnancy out and headed to the nearest stall. She chuckled softly when she saw Clark bought a pregnancy test with a weeks indicator. Smallville thought of everything.

With a heavy heart, she unwrapped the stick. "Here goes nothing," Lois winced as she fixed up the pregnancy test, all too familiar with the process.

Now all she had to do was wait. Patience wasn't her strong suit. She started to play with the toilet paper roll, the soft paper slipping through her fingers. A single tear slid down her face. If she closed her eyes she could imagine it was a baby blanket.