The Memoirs

Birthing babies was a much harder experience then Dominic would have ever thought.

The birth lasted for seven hours, much shorter then a normal birth, but what could anyone expect? The baby was being born a month in advance. He couldn't believe it, not really, as he sat in the waiting room with his lover. For the first few hours they'd sat and talked quietly, both of them, and Dominic felt... so desperately unprepared for what was coming. Who was coming. He didn't know how he was going to handle it.

He didn't know how when the doctors summoned them, didn't know how when he and Lionel dressed in scrubs and went into the labor room.

Didn't know when he saw Toni, her back arched, her fingers scrabbling against Graham's, handfuls of his hair caught between her fingers as she screamed her pain out.

Dominic was as shrill white as a ghost.

He had... the best... seat in the house.

That was to say, he could see... everything.

Graham was standing proudly beside Toni, not even wincing when her fingers nearly yanked his hair out. He just leaned over her, kissing her forehead softly, telling her how good she was doing, and completely ignoring the cold nausea in his stomach as he worried about her. He knew delivering early could be complicated for the mother and the little child both, and he was terrified for his Toni as much as he was for the baby being born, and he kissed her again. "Yer doin' great, darlin' Toni."

Lionel was repeating the reassurances from the other side of Toni's bed, all of his hair tucked into the scrub cap as he wiped off her forehead with a cool cloth.

Yeah. Bull. She had birthed plenty of babies in her time as an ER doctor, but she had never, never been on the other end of it.

And their calm assurances didn't mean shit.

The contractions were bad, really, really bad. The pain was eating her alive from the inside out, and she felt like her body was about to tear itself apart. Graham was trying to reassure her, and Dominic was providing deeply amusing entertainment down between her legs, but she couldn't stop the piercing cries as the nurses told her when to breathe.

"It's goin' t'be soon now, I know it. Ye've done s'good, darlin'. Jus' a little longer, honey," Graham kept saying.

Lionel glared at the doctor. "How much longer?" he demanded of the man sitting between Toni's spread thighs.

Dominic's eyes were very, very wide. "From here, soon."

Dr. Billy glanced up, smiled at the two of them, and kept working. "Just a few more pushes. You're doing really well, Toni, for being such a no-nonsense woman. Come on... take a deep breath… there we go... looks like the snips we did are perfect, its going to be wide enough for the baby and it won't rip you up. Alright... on the count of three... one… two... three."

Toni inhaled stiffly and pushed, tears spilling down her cheeks as she cried out between clenched teeth, sweat sliding down the sides of her face.

Lionel dropped the cloth he was using to wipe her forehead off, and moved down to stand beside the doctor. "I want to see her, Doctor. As soon as she comes out." A pause. "Please."

Graham smiled at his brother over Toni's flushed face, rubbing his bearded cheek against her temple. "More than ye were bargainin' for, little brother?" he asked softly, then kissed Toni's cheek again. "You heard 'im, darlin'. Only a couple more. Yer almos' there, then ye get t'sit up fer a few days and be waited on hand'n foot."

Dominic's eyes, as wide as saucers, looked up at Lionel. "That's a lot of goo."

Toni let out another cry as the contraction ended and she panted through it, like she'd learned in her Lamaze classes, and Dr. Billy fiddled or did something and she wanted to kick him in the face. "God, I have to push!"

"Not yet, Toni, not yet," Dr. Billy said, calmly, "In just a moment."

"No, now!"

Lionel looked up calmly, and put his hand on her knee. "Toni... please. Listen to the doctor. If he asks you to wait for a moment, then please... wait. I don't want anything to happen to you or to the baby," he continued.

"Aye," Graham said. "Never thought t'agree with Lionel, but aye, Toni, wait."

"YOU try being on the end of this agony and then YOU can tell ME what to do, you fucking bastards! All of you, I hate you all, I HATE YOU!"

Dominic's eyes widened all the more, though he really wasn't paying attention, cause he was seeing something fuzzy and... well... "Heey. That's a head," he said, in awe. he was kind of in shock, not really hearing or seeing much, but he couldn't help it--he grinned. "Cool."

If Toni hadn't been in utter agony, she would have kicked his skull in.

Lionel moved back down to look, and yes, there was a head there. "Aurora," he said softly, and looked over at Dominic. "She's almost here."

The next five minutes were painfully fast. One second Dominic was staring at a dark head, the next, Toni was crying, the nurses were running around, Dr. Billy was telling her to push, and with one last powerful thrust, so hard Toni screamed with it, Dominic saw the miracle of life be brought to the world.

He watched, stunned, as his gooey, blood-covered daughter was quickly pulled free from her mother, umbilical cord cut, bottom slapped and she screamed, the cries of a baby flooding the room and flooding Dominic's eyes until he couldn't see through the wash of tears.

The total sum of his and Lionel's love, laying there on Toni's belly, screaming for the world.

She was so, so tiny, was Lionel's first realization. Smaller than Lex, smaller even than Julian. She looked as though she would fit easily in the palms of his hands, and in those seconds, he knew that he would do anything to ensure that she had a good life filled with everything she could possibly ask for, and his hand reached out to touch her.

And when a bloody, gooey, miniature little fist closed around his finger and wailed, he cried.

Dominic pushed the wheel chair around the other side of the bed, and after grasping his brother's hand for support, lifted himself up to unsteady legs. His knees were shaking, not in exertion but in... this, and he stared at his daughter, stared at her as the stunning realization that his baby girl was alive made him wretch out his own sob that was part laugh. "Thank you, God," he said, so softly, as his own fingers slid over her fingers, her feet, and oh, God, she was so small, and he looked at the doctor, "Is she okay?"

Dr. Billy nodded, as soon as he was finished delivering the afterbirth, and climbed to his feet. "I need to take her with me, just to be sure--she's about five pounds, a little more then we expected for a premature baby. Take care not to touch her too much, her immune system isn't totally there." He rose his voice a little. "Toni, how are you?"

Toni was exhausted. Toni was crying, touching the little pale baby laying on her cocoa colored stomach. And she was totally, absolutely in love with the little girl she had delivered for these two beautiful men. "Okay."

To hell with not touching her. Lionel couldn't imagine not feeling those little fingers grabbing onto his and holding it, couldn't imagine not rubbing each little digit with his thumb, counting and looking at ten little fingers and ten little toes. "When can we take her home?"

"Let me take a look at her," Dr. Billy said, and he smiled, as his top nurse lifted the baby from Toni's stomach, covered her quickly in a blanket, and began to weigh her.

Dominic looked up, the tears running down his cheeks, and leaned over Toni's stomach to kiss his lover, as hard and as deeply as he could, one hand coming up to clench tightly where he would for his lovers hair. "Oh, God."

Lionel kissed his lover back, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against Dominic's. "We are parents," he said softly. "We're fathers."

"We're someone's daddy. God help the poor child," Dominic said on a shaking, trembling laugh, his eyes filled to brimming again.

And then he let go, and leaned down to kiss Toni full on the mouth. "And do I ever love you," he said, smiling down at her as she gave him an exhausted half smile.

"Hey, hey, no makin' the moves on my woman," Graham scolded, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding her as he rocked her gently against his chest. "You did good, my darlin' Toni."

"Mmm. She's gorgeous," Toni whispered, very softly, tiredly, as she closed her eyes and finally rested

"Yeah, she is, just like her mama," he said softly, rubbing his hands over her shoulders.

Dominic didn't know what else he could do, but as Dr. Billy left the room with the nurses, only two remaining, well… he had to sit down. The nurses were cleaning Toni up, so he shakily sat in his wheel chair again, looking up at his lover and beckoning him over, arms raised out.

Lionel came over and crouched down, wrapping his arms around Dominic's waist. "Come on. We should go and tell Clark and Lex that Aurora was born and without problems."

Dominic grasped Lionel tightly, hugging him close, their heads slid close, ear to ear, their shoulders perfectly connected in the crannies of their bodies, and his hands were shaking like mad. "We... we have a baby, Lionel. Oh, God, I'm not ready. What if we screw her up?"

"You are ready, Dominic. And we will not screw her up," he reassured. "We are both ready for her."

And THAT brought on another slew of crying, his eyes wide and overjoyed as he sobbed out, "Holy shit, we're daddies!"

"Yes, we are," Lionel said, still holding his lover tightly. "We're fathers."

- = - = -

Whitney had never liked rocking chairs before. Whenever he saw them, he thought about old people, sitting there and rocking away what was left of their lives, heartbeat by heartbeat, breath by breath.

He had never once realized how exhilarating it could be to hold your son in your arms, rocking gently in the rocking chair, feeling his soft skin and tufts of hair and realizing that this life was going to be yours to protect and guide.

It was a very awesome, very *frightening* feeling, and Whitney cherished it, feeling every quick heartbeat and every little puff of breath that came out of his baby boy as he rocked him.

He wasn't singing, just humming wordlessly under his breath, sitting in the nursery upstairs, rocking the baby in his arms when the front door opened and closed quietly.

The night had ended with a bang, that was sure.

Clark had gone home after Aurora was born, and had seen her--tiny, wrinkled, bruised, wet, but so damn cute--had hugged and kissed Dominic and Lionel, who had looked near tears, and had gone home. he'd showered, crashed for a few hours, and then hauled his ass off to school the next day barely able to see straight.

That afternoon, he went home, took another short nap, and after a shower and another change of clothes, went to go see Whitney and Chloe.

The house was very quiet when he entered. Whitney had left the door open for him, and Clark closed it quietly behind him before starting up the steps. In his arms he had a huge, very soft teddy bear to put in the baby's nursery, and he held it close as he gently knocked on the door to the open nursery. "Hello?"

"Come on in," Whitney said softly, and smiled at the half-open door. "He's not asleep yet; he just finished a bottle about ten minutes ago and I'm waiting to change him before I put him down."

Clark entered the room, his eyes a little wide. The nursery was very soft and already smelled like baby powder. "Hey, Whit. Where's Chloe?" he asked, as he offered the bear with a small grin. "I brought him this... I hope he can forgive me for running out on him yesterday without cooing properly."

Whitney grinned at the teddy bear, taking it and putting it on the floor so he could pull Clark down for a kiss on the cheek. "Don't worry about it; John's very forgiving and says that as long as you promise to spoil him rotten, he'll let it slide." Then he rubbed his cheek against Clark's. "Chloe's sleeping in the bedroom; I think she's still kind of wiped out from having the baby."

Clark leaned over to let Whitney kiss him, and kissed him back gently as their stubble rasped. "I'll go see her in a sec," Clark murmured, because his eyes were focused on the baby in Whitney's lap.

He was wrapped in soft, warm blue fuzziness, and wore the wrinkled, squashed look all babies had. His eyes were closed, his mouth puckered, tiny fists wrapped around the blanket, and Clark felt a rush of aching loneliness and sadness even as he felt joy. "Wow... he's so cute," Clark said, a grin twitching his lips. "Can I hold him?"

"Of course," Whitney said, shifting around so that he could hold John out. "Just... remember, support his head when you hold him, and let him wiggle a little til he's comfortable. He, uh, likes to kick."

"Course he does, he's a Fordman. You've nearly taken out important bits of mine with your elbows and knees in the middle of the night," Clark said, and set the bear down by the crib before holding his arms out. His hands trembled the softest bit.

"Here you go," Whitney said, gently placing his son into his lover's arms. "You want the rocking chair to rock him? He kind of likes that."

"Yeah," Clark said, very softly, without really understanding what he was saying. "That'd be cool."

The baby was a very tiny weight in his arms, and for the first time, Clark felt indecently clumsy. He slid into the rocking chair as carefully as he could, holding John's head with the crook of his massive elbow, and tucked the baby close to his chest so he could look down on him. He was so tiny, tinier than anything Clark had ever seen, and he held him carefully, like china that would break.

Whitney smiled as he put his hand on Clark's shoulder and rested his chin on the top of Clark's head. "He likes you," was his soft comment, as his fingers stroked gently in Clark's hair. "Listen how quiet he is."

"Course he does," Clark breathed softly. He felt Whitney's hands on him but couldn't stop looking at the tiny baby. Gently, as gently as he could, he unwound the little blanket enough to see his tiny fingers, and stroked across them. They weren't bigger then the pad of his thumb. "He's..." and he felt himself getting deeply choked up, "He's so beautiful. You have to be careful, be very careful with him," Clark whispered. He covered the baby back up to keep him warm, and tucked him a little closer to his chest.

"Yeah, we do," Whitney said, still standing behind Clark, and reaching down to reveal one little foot, tickling it gently. "That's my boy... look at those clodhoppers," he said quietly. "Gonna have big feet, just like me."

"Yeah," Clark said, and brushed a soft kiss across the baby's sleeping forehead. "Yeah. You guys decide on a middle name?"

"Not yet. I'm... really not wanting to saddle the kid with Whitney. Because as much as I love my parents, I don't know what they hell they were thinkin'."

Clark's lips twitched a little. "I love you anyway, ashimel. At least you didn't get stuck with 'Clark'," Clark said softly, as he brushed another kiss over Whitney's forehead, and climbed to his feet again, to give the baby back. The tiny weight in his arms, as soon as it was gone, ripped at the lining of his heart.

"I think Clark's a beautiful name," Whitney said, taking his son back. "You sure you don't want to hold him? I know..." And here Whitney cursed the fact that he sucked with words sometimes. "I can't know but I can guess how you... feel. About this. And I don't mind, if you want to hold him longer, or not hold him at all."

Clark smiled a little but shook his head. "I'm too big. I'll break him." But he changed the subject, because he didn't want to think about that. "Don't let Chloe sic him with something like 'Reginald'. She's got a problem with naming everything after books she reads--she used to have a cat named Willoughby, for Christ's sake."

Whitney just nodded in agreement. "Yeah. And I've already told her that we're not naming him Alan either."

"Better add Jason, Rupert, and Daniel to that," Clark muttered, but smiled softly. "He's really beautiful," he said, and sat back on the floor in front of the rocking chair. "Lex told me he called you?"

Whitney nodded. "Yeah, he did. He was going to stay with Aurora for a while and come over later. I think... not that he'd tell me anything, but I think he's having issues with all the babies being born and everything. But Lex doesn't talk to me. He talks to Chloe."

"If it helps, Lex doesn't talk to me much either," Clark grinned a little, and crossed his legs Indian style. "so I wouldn't really be surprised. How's Chloe doing, though? Is she in a lot of pain?"

Whitney shook his head. "Surprisingly, she's not in that much, I don't think. I think she's more tired than anything else." He gave a little smile as John gurgled.

"I'm glad," Clark said, softly, and changed the subject again. "Lex and I might be going away for a couple of days at the end of the month."

"Yeah? Vacation? You guys need it," Whitney said. "And ooh... there we go. Clark... might not want to be around for the diaper changing portion of the evening."

"Not vacation… People asked to do an article on Lex and me, so we're giving it to them. Perry's gonna have my ass for it, but I don't care." He looked up as Whitney spoke, and smiled a little. "That's cool. I just came to drop off the bear."

Whitney's eyebrow raised. "People, huh? My friend, the celebrity." He winked. "You don't have to run off," he said, tone changing to serious. "Stay."

"Your friend, the queer fashion plate for Metropolis society, the boytoy on the arm of one of the wealthiest men in the world," Clark amended, but climbed to his feet. "I... I should.." he looked at the door.

Whitney put John down carefully on the changing table, and left one hand on his son's stomach as he looked at Clark. "Please stay."

Clark sagged, nodding, and plunked into the rocking chair as Whitney started changing the baby. "Okay."

"I know... I know this isn't easy," Whitney said, fumbling a diaper out of one of the bags and putting it on the table with one hand while the other pulled out a handful of wipes and started wiping John clean. "But... it's not going to do you any good to brood. Lex is gonna come by here before he goes home, and then you can go. I just... don't want you alone right now. Cause it hurts, to think of you sad."

"I'm not sad," Clark muttered, a little affronted. What he was didn't qualify as sad, not anymore. "Sorry I'm such a downer right now. Hey, speaking of, how's the store?"

"No, don't be sorry," Whitney said, as he powdered John's bare backside. "Just... ah fuck it." He put the powder down harder than he meant to, and a little cloud of white puffed up from the canister and John gave a little cry as Whitney tacked the diaper securely at the sides. "The store's... annoying the hell out of me, if you want to know the truth," he said, sitting down entirely. "I made Graham--Mr. Senatori's brother--a partner, and I was hoping that'd make things easier but it's still..."

"Made it all hell?" Clark asked, as he rose, waving some of the powder away, and took over for Whitney. He did up the diaper and as easily as he could, dressed the baby back, buttoning the three snap buttons of the little under-shirt down under the diaper, then pulled tiny pants on, tucked his warm, fuzzy sweater down, and wrapped him in the blanket before presenting him to Whitney.

"Yeah, pretty much. Now there's two sets of books to keep track of, the whole store's and then a set that shows his part and my part, and both sets have got to match, there's double inventory, double sales calls... I swear to God, the only thing that's been simplified is the fucking payroll." He took John carefully and tucked the baby against his shoulder as he went back to the rocking chair and started to rock.

Clark cleaned the little table up, set the things away, and came back over to plunk on the ground where he'd been sitting. "Sounds pretty bad. Why don't you hire someone to keep the books for you?"

"Because anybody who could actually do it, I couldn't afford," Whitney snorted. "We're barely operating in the black as it is, and even once we get our feet back under us, it's going to be six or eight months before we make enough to add someone else to payroll."

"Well… I mean, I could. It'd take me all of ten minutes to do a month's worth?" Clark offered. "If you give me all the paperwork in one sitting, I could have it done for you fast."

Whitney blinked. "I couldn't pay you nearly what you should earn," he said. "I can give you four hundred every two weeks for doing the books twice a month."

"Whitney, I'd do it for free, loser."

Whitney blushed. "I know. But I gotta show it going out to someone, or Graham'll start asking me all kinds of questions."

Clark shook his head and waved a hand. "You can tell him Lex is doing it, or something. I'll do it for free, Whitney. I'm not going to charge my ashimel anything, to begin with, much less a hundred dollars for ten minutes."

"Even so, Clark, I'd have to show that there's money going out somewhere to have the books done. It's part of the whole balance thing. I don't get it, I just know what I have to do to make the books come out right. And no, you're not charging me anything, I'm offering."

Clark shook his head. "You know I won't take a red cent. You don't have to really hire me, either, I'll do it for you, no big deal. All right?"

Whitney just glared. "You really want to add to my headache, don't you?" He sighed, and leaned his head back against the rocking chair. "I'll bring them home in a couple of days, and you can do them then. This time. Because with Toni having the baby, I'm betting Graham's not going to be noticing much."

Hee. Once would be all it took for Clark to convince him, so he inclined his head genially and watched as the baby moved a little before settling into sleep. "Did you find out about Pete and Shay? Dominic told me tonight."

"Yeah, Shay told Chloe and Chloe told me--I can't believe they broke up." Whitney kissed the baby's forehead gently. "I tried calling Pete the other day but his line was busy for like, half an hour. And then I haven't had another chance since."

"I'm gonna go see him in a while," Clark said, softly. "Shay's all right, from what I've seen of her. She's hanging out with Dominic a lot."

"Yeah? I wondered if she'd be okay or not after they let her out, but yeah, she seems to be okay. Tell Pete to give me a call, see if he wants to come over this weekend. I'll be helping take care of the baby, but I think that the Diamondbacks are in town playing the Metropolis Stingrays, and we always break in the baseball season together."

Clark's lips twitched. He'd never been one for sports aside from the occasional wanting to play them to impress someone, but he hadn't played basketball or football in ages. "I'll let him know, it'll probably bring him up a little."

"You can come too," Whitney said. "You've just... never really been one for baseball." He flashed his lover a grin. "You could always come over for kisses in the kitchen during the 7th inning stretch and commercial breaks."

"Hell yeah. Though I think the groping should be kept down to a minimum... my ass is sore."

Whitney blinked. "What did you do to it?"

"Well, nothing. Except the part where it's been fucked by you and Lex a total of like, eight times in forty eight hours."

"And you say that like it's a bad thing." Whitney got up carefully and put the sleeping baby in the crib, and turned the mobile on. "There we go, little Fordman," he said softly, and flicked the nursery monitor on beside the crib as he picked up the walkie-talkie half of it. "Let's go downstairs and talk?"

"Sure," Clark said, and stood up, as well. He kept a respectful distance from the baby. "And then I've got to get going."

Whitney took Clark's hand and pulled him over. "What do you think the middle name should be?" he asked softly, putting Clark's hand carefully on John's hair.

Clark shivered, and his hands began to shake, but he looked down at the tiny baby in a warm bed, where he'd have everything his parents could afford for him, and he nearly bit through his lip. As soon as Whitney let him go he took back his hand, and his voice, slightly hoarse, said, "Don't let her call him Ira, either."

Whitney let go of Clark's hand and instead, wrapped his arm around his lover's waist. "I don't want you to be afraid of my son, Clark," he said softly. "And I don't want you to hate him either. He's your godson, as much as a part of you as Chloe and I are."

"I don't hate him," Clark said, at once. If anything, he loved him more than life. "Come on, downstairs?"

"Yeah." Whitney made sure the little walkie-talkie was clipped to his belt, and he gave John another little kiss as he followed Clark out of the room, and half-closed the door again.

Once they were out in the hallway, Whitney stepped in front of Clark and led him down the steps. "You want something to drink?"

Clark followed him, silently, the feeling of John's soft skin imprinted on his palm, now, and he slid it into his pocket as he walked downstairs. "Uh… no, thanks. That's okay." He watched Whitney walk in front of him, and felt something was different. He carried himself with more poise, more dignity. It was a nice thing to see.

"Okay," he called out, and walked around the corner to the kitchen. "Have a seat; I'm gonna get me a soda." He rooted around in the fridge and came out with a cold Coke, then plopped down on the sofa beside Clark.

Clark settled on the couch, setting his hands on his lap, and rested back on the couch, close enough to Whitney that their shoulders touched. "You wouldn't believe the toy room Lex has got."

"Yeah?" Whitney's grin broadened. "Let me guess... Warrior Angel shit all over?"

"Star Wars, too," Clark said, a smile twitching his lips. "He showed me yesterday."

"Dear Christ. Star Wars, Warrior Angel, and Batman. Is he three or twenty-three?" Whitney took another drink from the can and then offered it to Clark.

"Just letting himself be a kid," Clark said, but shook his head no at the can. "We've got another small problem, too."

"Uh oh." Whitney sat up at that, putting the can on the coffee table in front of them. "What's the problem?"

"Well, not problem, per se. And not small. But you know how my dad told Lex and I not to fuck while my chemistry was finishing maturing?"

"Yeah, I think you told me, that's why you couldn't fuck me at the hospital, right?" Whitney asked, forehead scrunched as he listened.

"Yeah. Well...we fucked," Clark couldn't help a sigh. "And now Lex..."

"Lex what?"

Clark didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. "Lex has got these enormous balls. And a cock as long as mine."

Whitney blinked. "That's... that's... big."

"Yeah. I've got to talk to dad tonight, and see what's gonna happen. Lex'll kill me if he finds out I told you, so don't tell him, all right?"

"Yeah, no worries there. I'll just check out his crotch the next time I see him. It'll show."

"It already is. He's walking bow-legged," Clark said softly, but it was teasing as he lifted himself up. "I really should go."

"Are you going home to brood?" Whitney asked baldly. "Because if that's the case, sit your ass back down. You can watch TV with me."

"I don't brood."

"Sulk, then? Pout? Contemplate your navel?" Whitney asked. "Whatever you call it, if that's what you're going to do, then don't."

Clark's lips tightened. "I don't sulk, and I don't pout."

Whitney's eyes narrowed. "Okay, Clark. Then go." He turned the volume on the baby monitor up, then crossed his arms over his chest. "I'll tell Chloe you came by when she wakes up."

Clark frowned, tightly, and after a moment's contemplation, he leaned back into the couch. He couldn't leave with Whitney angry at him.

Whitney stayed quiet for a minute. "I know... I know it's about John," he said finally. "I know that this is bothering you in some way, whether it's sad or upset, or something else that I don't know, but Clark... I don't want my baby to mean that you can't come around. Chloe and I both, we want you and Lex to be huge parts of John's life. And if you're always running from him because he makes you remember Mar-El, then you can't be there for him."

...Which was the last thing Clark wanted, or needed, to hear right now. "Drop it, Whitney."

Whitney shook his head. "I can't drop it, Clark. Not when you can barely look at my son, and can't stand to stay in the same house with him."

"It's not about him. He's beautiful, and wonderful. I'd never feel that way about him, Whitney."

"Then is it me, Clark?" Whitney turned on the couch to look at his lover. "Is it Chloe? What?"

Clark shook his head, and ran a hand over his face. "I'm fine, Whitney. You're making something out of nothing."

"No, I'm not." Whitney glared. "I might be dumb, but I wasn't born yesterday." He picked up Clark's hand as soon as it ran over his face. "You couldn't touch him." Then he dropped it.

No. Because the selfish, ugly part of him saw his own son, felt his son's skin, saw his son's eyes, every time he looked at a baby. And now there wasn't one, not two, but four new infants in his life with which he'd have to have close contact with on a regular basis, and Clark wondered, idly, how he wasn't going to lose his mind.

"Yeah. Nothing my dumb blond ass," Whitney growled, sitting back against the couch.

Clark pulled his hand away from Whitney's and swallowed, hoping his smile was big enough. "You're seeing things, Whitney. I think the gas fumes are finally getting to your head."

"Gas fumes," Whitney agreed, taking another drink of his soft drink.

"Yep. Around all that machinery Graham's got cooking over there."

"Must be," Whitney said, not at all convinced.

"Yep," Clark said back, and took the can in Whitney's hand, drank a swallow, and handed it back.

Whitney watched Clark take a drink out of the can, and then he put it back on the coffee table after taking a drink himself. "You really think I'm that stupid, Clark?"

"Was hoping."

"Sorry to disappoint you, buddy," was Whitney's reply. "Ain't."

Clark shook his head, and this time, he did climb to his feet. "I'm gonna go. Tell Chloe I said hey, and that Shay'll be over to see her later this week."

"Tell me when you'll be back, and I'll make sure to take John for a walk so you can stay longer," Whitney called after him.

Clark was around the coffee table, his back to Whitney, when he burst into tears.

Whitney got up as quickly as he could and went around to Clark's back, wrapping his arms around Clark's waist and resting his cheek against the back of Clark's shoulder. "Now are you gonna talk to me?"

Clark gave a wretched, thick sound, shaking his head even as he dragged the back of his hand over his eyes and nose. "I should go."

Whitney walked around, putting himself squarely in Clark's path. "You gotta go through me to get to that door."

"I can fly, remember?" he asked, softly. He shook his head, squaring his shoulders and clearing his throat, in an effort to calm himself down. "Look, I'm sorry, Whitney. It's just been a really emotionally hectic week."

"Forget sorry," Whitney said. "This is me, your ashimel. Your best friend, your kindness. Well... let me do what you chose me to do. Let me help you."

"No one can help me, Whitney. I'm here on my own doing, and I'll get myself out." he gave Whitney a gentle push to the stairs. "Go."

"Bullshit I'll go," Whitney growled. "You chose me because I was strong, Clark."

"I chose you before you had a family, ashimel," Clark said, command in his voice. "Go."

And for the first time ever, Whitney balked at it. "And it's because I have a family that I am stronger than I was," he snapped back.

Clark's hands were trembling where they crossed over his chest. "I need to go, Whitney. I'll tell you, I promise, but I can't right now."

Whitney's hands reached out and linked through Clark's trembling fingers, squeezing them tight.

And Clark rose them to his mouth, kissed them, and let go. "I'll call you later, Whitney," he said, as he turned and opened the front door.

Whitney followed him to the door. "I have your word?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," Clark said, and after looking back once, with a raised hand in goodbye, he walked out and down the porch, to his car.

Whitney stood on the porch and watched until the monitor clicked on with the sound of John's crying, and Whitney raised his hand to wave back, and then closed the door quickly as he went to see to his son.

 

-fin-

go on to the next part