It should be one of the happiest day of her life. It should: even though she didn't plan it, and she hadn't necessarily wanted it - it really should.

It should, and it would have been, she thinks, if he was here with her.

But he's not, and all Lois can do is clutch her knees to her chest and silently cry as she stares at the two pink bands in front of her, chest rising with sobs she can't control.

He's gone – Clark's gone, and her entire life crumbled, and now she's going to have to put it back together because soon, there's going to be a new human being in it.

It occurs to Lois that she's probably never hurt this bad before.

The next day, she doesn't go to the Planet.

She can't. Perry calls, Jenny calls, but she doesn't really care – can't bring herself to care.

Instead, she spends three days on their couch, sat burried in the cushions with the comforting feel of his shirt around her, watching the sun come and go.

"Do you know what you want to do, honey?," Martha asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Both her hands gently cover hers, and Lois squeezes back, doing everything she can to smile at her.

"I don't. I have no idea, I just - ," and Lois hates herself for sounding – feeling – so lost, so broken. She's not like that: she's strong, and smart, and resistant. She is, always has been, but ever since that day, she just can't seem able to do it.

She misses him so much, she can't be herself anymore.

Sighing, she angrily wipes a tear away. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore. It's been two months, and I can't even go through one single day without crying and feeling like my heart's just been ripped out, and I don't know how to make it stop."

Her hands are shaking again, and although she's thankful to Martha for pretending she's not feeling it, she can't look at her.

"It...sucks. Everything sucks, and I don't think I want to do it anymore," she admits quietly, because she doesn't. "And I don't think it would be fair to bring a child into this mess."

She can feel the tears freely running down her cheeks now, and she gives up on trying to stop them. They stay like this for a few moments, her trying to control her breathing, Martha patiently waiting.

After a while, she speaks.

"I can't tell you what to do, honey," she begins. "But even if you don't want to, and don't feel like you can, I'm going to make sure your life goes on," and Lois looks up to determined eyes. "It may feel like it's impossible now, but it will go on, because it has to. And I'm not telling you it's going to be easy, because it's not – but with time, it gets...easier. It's like everything: you learn to live with it," she smiles sadly, and Lois' heart breaks. She's so strong, so tough, sometimes it's easy to forget Martha's lived a similar hell.

Two, actually: her husband, and now her son.

"Really?," is all she can manage, and her voice is so high, so hesitant, so scared she doesn't even recognize it as her own.

"Really," she smiles reassuringly. "And as for this, you still have a choice," and she doesn't have to say it for Lois to know what she means. "And whatever it is, I'll support you."

It's her grandchild they're talking about, and she knows what it must take for her to say this, and, more than that, mean it. She'll probably never have the words to tell her how thankful she is.

"I'm not – I'm not sure," she says after a few seconds.

"Have you ever talked about having kids before?," she asks gently, and Lois is suddenly drawn back months before, to a whispered conversation among soft sheets and tender touches.

"Yeah...I mean, not really - ," she starts, a slow smile making her way on her face at the memory. "Although he did say that if we ever had a kid, I'd be the one to have to deal with the stubborn side it'd inherit from me," she manages in a teary laugh, and Martha laughs with her.

Her laughter eventually fades, leaving place to the ache she's now coming to get used to. "I just don't know if I can do it, Martha. Not without him. And even if I can, it's not the way I - ," but she stops, because she feels the tears coming again, and it has to end.

"God, I'm so tired of crying all the time;" she mumbles, annoyed and angry at the same time.

"That will stop with time. And don't worry about doing it in front of me – I promise, I won't tell anyone tough reporter Lois Lane is only human," she jokes, earning her a small smile. "Specially since I'm a teary mess myself, these days," she adds with a complice wink after rolling her eyes for show. "And if it can help you make up your mind, you won't be alone. I know this is something you wanted to live with him, but even if you can't, I'm going to make sure you're not doing it alone, either."

There's not much she can say to that, not because she doesn't want to, but because her throat is tight with fear, gratitude and pain, all at the same time. She nods, and she hopes his mom can see the silent thank you she puts into it.

Martha pats her hand one more time before going up to get more coffee, giving Lois the time to compose herself again, and she thinks she does.

"What was it like for you?," she asks. "Finding Clark, I mean" and that immediately brings a smile to his older woman's face.

"Oh, it was - the best thing that ever happened to us," she says with a fond expression as she comes back to sit next to her, and if Lois didn't already know how much she loved him before, a simple look at her would have done it. "We were so blessed...We thanked the sky every day for sending us that kid," she continues, suddenly years away. "It wasn't easy every day, of course. But I wouldn't have traded it for the world. He was...my boy, you know?," and there's so much in her eyes.

"Yeah," she whispers, smiling gently.

She probably doesn't really know, because they say you can't understand a mother's love until you feel it yourself, and seeing Martha, she's pretty sure it's true.

A few months, she thinks, and she'll understand it for herself.

Laying in their bed, his pillow underneath her head and his shirt clutched to her chest, she looks up at the picture of him she put on his night table, beautiful wide grin only competed by the Kansas sun behind him.

"We're having a baby, Clark," she smiles softly, heart aching. "We're having a little baby."

"Are you sure?"

Lois can hear her holding her breath on the other side of the phone and nods, even if she knows she can see it.

"Yes – yes, I'm sure," she says, because she is.

She really, really is. "So I hope you're ready to be a grandma."

Martha half laughs, half cries, and Lois smiles, pushing away all her fears, if only temporarily, enjoying the first moment of joy she's felt in months.

Knocking, she doesn't wait for an answer before opening the door.

"Hey, can I talk to you?," she says more than ask as she comes in, and Perry rolls his eyes, annoyed pout on.

"Do I have a choice?," and she sends him an unimpressed glare. "What is it, Lane?"

Lois has never been scared of her boss, and, even now, she isn't. But even though she's trying to fight it, and even though she's come to term with her decision for over a month now, that particular subject she's about to touch still make her stomach flip with apprehension.

She's not going to let it show, though. No way.

"I can't do the ISIS article."

It only last a second, but a flash of surprise appears on his face, something that never happens, and in any other circumstances, that would have make her smile.

"Really. And may I ask why?"

"I can't go in the field," she shrugs as casually as she can, her eyes never leaving his expectant ones. Taking what she hopes is an imperceptible breath, she goes on. "I'm pregnant."

For a few moments, neither of them say anything. They just stare at each other, and it takes everything she has for Lois not to waver when his expression softens.

He doesn't hug her, doesn't even get up or try to make her talk about it, which is exactly what she doesn't want to do, and the look and small nod he gives her is everything she needs.

She'd never admit it, but he always got her pretty well figured out – still has, apparently.

"Alright, you're off the hook. But don't think you're going to get any special treatment because of it," and this time, she almost smiles.

"Wasn't planning on it," she rolls her eyes for good measure instead. "And don't think I'll allow you to keep giving away my stories when my pregnancy's over."

Just before she opens the door, he stops her. "Lane," he calls, and Lois turns to see Perry, glasses in hands, looking straight at her. Three seconds pass, and he gives her one of his rare, sincere smiles.

"I'm sure Kent would have been over the moon."

All goes well. Or at least, as well as it can go, anyway: damn, those morning sickness are a bitch.

As it turns out, it seems that expecting an half human, half Kryptonian baby doesn't involve any more problems than a usual pregnancy does. Not yet, anyway, she thinks, closing her eyes: every day, she has to stop herself from thinking about eventual complications, dangers, anomalies or infections that no doctor would know how to cure, praying to whoever listens to make everything okay.

She can't lose him, too.

(Lois doesn't even know why but she's sure it's a boy. She just – knows.)

Eventually – four months in, to be precise -, she starts to show.

Her stomach is getting a little bigger with every passing day, and, as she does ever since she found out she's expecting, she can't help but gently run her hand over it.

"You're really growing in there, aren't you?," she says, a small smile on her face. "Alright, then: time to stop with those ample blouses - we're going to show you to the world, little man."

"Close your mouth before you catch a fly, Lombard," Lois says as she comes into the open space, not even taking the time to stop.

Stunned, he just stupidly points at her belly. "Your - ," but he doesn't finish, the shock apparently too great for him to handle.

Rolling her eyes, she heads to the meeting office, amused when she hears Jenny's "You seriously didn't notice before? You're supposed to be a reporter, you know" behind her.

As she passes by Perry and enters, he shouts.

"That meeting was supposed to start five minutes ago, people! And Lombard, shut your mouth, for God's sake - you'll catch a fly."

Lois smiles.

"Are you going to move?," she asks as she pours Lois a tall glass of fresh juice, immediately going to grab a plate of cookies to go with it.

"I don't know," she frowns. "I haven't really thought about it. I don't think I want to," she admits quietly, and she feels Martha gently pat her shoulder as she comes to sit back down next to her. Neither of them say it, but they both know why it is.

"Well, you don't have to," she smiles gently. "Your apartment is big enough, so there's no need."

"You really think so?"

"Of course," she waves her hand at her. "They do cry a little louder, but Kryptonians babies are small, too, you know," and Lois laughs before suddenly realizing something.

"Didn't you say Clark broke a window just by crying, once, though?," she recalls, panick starting to rise in her chest.

Smiling gently, the older woman takes a deep breath. "That's why I asked," and she feels her heart beat a little faster. "But now that I think about it, there's very little chance it happens again. With Clark, it was because he was adapting to Earth atmosphere, and it hurt him so much the force of its screams were – well, what they were. But after a while, it got better," she says, soothing. "In fact, he didn't cry that much, afterwards. And he did his nights really early, which trust me, we loved him even more for," she jokes, and they laugh.

Lois nods, and tries to hold on despite the familiar need for Clark building up again. It's almost part of her, now.

"I know you miss him, honey," Martha says, as if reading her thoughts, and she looks up, surprised. "But you can do this."

She doesn't dwell on it, doesn't try and make her talk about it. Lois doesn't know how she always

know what to say or not say, do or not, but she does, and she's grateful.

Instead, she just gets up and heads for the kitchen, putting her aperon on as she points to the sky.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a chicken to make," she says with a wink. "And you better get going, if you want to go and be back before it starts raining. But take my umbrella, just in case." And with that, she starts cooking.

Smiling, Lois gets up, the diamond on her left hand shining as she gently runs her hand on her round stomach.

"Grandma's right, sweetie," she whispers. "Let's go see daddy."

It's a boy.

As she lays there, watching and listening to the heartbeat of her baby boy, she misses Clark more than she can handle. Tears make her vision blurry, and, heart equally full of happiness and pain, she squeezes Martha's hand to stay grounded.

The images of a dark haired boy as kind and sweet as his father come to haunt her once again, more vivid than ever, and eventually, she lets them fall.

She talks to the baby a lot, she realizes. It's weird, interacting with someone that's not only not really present, but actually inside your body, and yet, it feels natural.

She bides him good morning and good night, sometimes comments the news or whatever she's watching, tells him about whatever made Perry mad that day, rhetorically asks him for his opinion. She hopes when he grows up, he won't hate her for talking his ear out for months.

Lois talks to him a lot about Clark, too.

She tells him about what kind of man he was; a really, really good one. She tells him about what he loved, about what made him smile. She tells him how much she loves him, how heroic he was, how selfless, how he would have teach him to ride a bike and play football.

She pretends she only does it for the baby, and manages to convince herself of it, sometimes.

No matter what, she always catches herself playing with his ring when she does.

It's 11 am on a cloudy Saturday when her doorbell rings.

Carefully jumping off her stool, she closes the top buttons of Clark's blue flannel shirt she's wearing over her sweatpants, humming quietly as she finishes her toast.

Her good mood fades as soon as she opens the door.

"Hi," he says, voice deep, and, if she's not wrong, slightly hesitant.

"What do you want?"

"Can I come in?"

"No, you can't. What do you want?"

Closing his eyes briefly, he sighs. "Lois, I just want to talk."

"Well, last time I saw you, you were standing on my boyfriend's neck, so forgive me if I don't want to."

"Please," he says, catching the door before she can close it in his face. "I just wanted to say that – whatever you need, you just have to ask."

For a second, she's taken aback. She doesn't know what he means by that, or why he is even saying it in the first place, and, if the rage inside was less burning, she might have stopped to ask.

She doesn't.

"Great: I want you to leave."

He looks straight at her for a few seconds, then, finally capitulating, nods, dropping his head. As he does, she see his eyes briefly stop on her stomach.

Bruce's back already half to her when he speaks.

"Congratulations on the baby."

"Did you hear that, honey?," she asks, glaring at the TV as she lays on their sofa. "That was the voice of a complete idiot," and she pushes on the remote button a little too violently, changing the channel to stop the annoying voice of Woodburn. She can't believe that jackass keeps getting interviewed.

"It's too bad your dad was so nice, because otherwise, I would have convince him to kick his stupid ass," she hisses, releasing a frustrated sigh. Her eyes burn, and she swallows with difficulty, cursing her stupid pregnancy hormones and trying with all she has not to let the tears fall.

He's been gone for months, gone to save them, and they still can't seem to leave him alone.

Throwing the remote control away, she puts her hand on her face, letting the frustration and anger melt with the pain that never leaves her, and cries.

Most of the time, she can control it, now. Not tonight.

She suddenly stops, though, when, taken by surprise, she feels the oddest thing inside of her.

For a moment, Lois stops breathing. She's pretty sure she knows what this is, but it still makes her entire body freeze. She holds her breath, not daring to move.

A couple of minutes later, and she feels it again, this time longer. Relentlessly, in fact, and, tears still in her eyes, she chuckles, both arms and hands around her stomach.

"You're kicking," she manages in a breath as the wonderful feeling comes back again. "You're kicking."

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," she says, rolling her eyes.

The woman's not impressed in the least, though, and simply approaches her, a barely visible smile on her face. She's dressed simply, dark jeans and black leather vest perfectly fitting her thin figure, but even like that, she's more elegant and beautiful than most women Lois has met.

"Hello to you too, Miss Lane."

"Did Bruce send you?," she asks, immediately regretting the hardness in her voice - she didn't do anything to deserve it (then again, maybe her billionaire friend can be forgiven, too, if she's honest with herself, but right now, she doesn't want to think about it).

Diana doesn't seem to mind, though, keeping her unsettling calm as she starts to walk with her, both women heading away from Planet's.

"I do not take order from Bruce," she says, not angry in the least. "As surprising as it sounds, I can take my own decisions," and Lois looks up to see a barely visible smirk on her face.

She likes her.

The invisible woman gestures towards a beautiful black Tesla Lois didn't notice, inviting. "My car's right here. Please allow me to give you a ride – I'd like to talk to you," and Lois nods.

"So," she asks once they're inside and on their way. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well, first of all because I wanted to say congratulations. On your new Pulitzer," and Lois smiles, "and on the baby. I hope you're doing okay – I'm sure it's not easy everyday."

"You're right: it is difficult to deal with all the attention I'm getting with that prize," and Diana chuckles. "Thank you," she adds quietly more seriously. "And no, it's not, but Martha's really helping. My editor too, in his own way," she rolls her eyes at the thought of Perry, although she couldn't be more grateful.

"That's good," Diana simply says, eyes on the orad ahead. "I'm glad. If you need us,we're here, too."

She snorts before she has the time to stop herself. "Yeah, I heard."

"Despite what you may feel towards Bruce, it's true: if you need anything, you only have to ask. We couldn't save him then – the least we could do is to look after his family," and Lois looks up at her. She's still staring before her, and only spend her a brief glance.

"You don't have to."

"We want to."

Sincere, and to the point: Lois definitively likes her. Before she has the time to add anything, the Amazon speaks again.

"Do you have a doctor? I'm guessing you can't just go to anyone," she adds at her confused expression.

"Oh – well, yeah, actually. One of Martha's friend in Smallville is a gynecologist. She saw Clark grew up, so she knows about the whole Superman thing, and she won't say anything."

"Perfect. If you do want a second opinion, I also have a friend who can help you. I trust her completely: she can help you."

"That's nice," she says, touched. "Thanks," and Diana simply nods.

"Don't thank me now," she smirks. "We might need your help too, soon," and Lois frown at that.

"You do know Clark was the only one of us with powers, right?"

"However, from what I'm understand, you are the one that managed to discover his identity. We're trying to achieve something similar," she says, mysterious.

"What exactly?," Lois can't help but ask, intrigued.

"Let's just say that Clark and I aren't the only ones with special skills – meta humans. And we need to find the others like us."

"Why?"

They come at a red light, and Diana smiles at her as they stop.

"You have more important things to focus on, right now," and Lois has the feeling there's a lot more she's not telling her.

She may have found Clark, but she knows that Wonder Woman and the Batman have more than enough resources to find the other metahumans by themselves. That's not why they want her help – not just that, anyway.

But she's right, though: she does have more important things to take care of. The most important thing of all, she thinks as her fingers subconsciously come to rest on her belly once more.

And so, for what must probably be the first time in her entire life, Lois doesn't push and simply nods, turning to look the city unfold on the other side of her window as the car starts again.

She doesn't know how, but Jenny actually manages to surprise her with a baby shower.

Even more surprisingly, Lois doesn't hate it. The young reporter is observant and smart enough to only invite people she likes, and doesn't do anything too cute or cliché. Lois also gets an enormous amount of babt stuff from everyone (half of which she can't figure out the use of, despite her reading), and, more importantly, the most delicious cake she has ever tasted.

Before going home, Lois gives her a rare hug.

"Thanks a lot, Jenny."

Surprised for a second, the young woman quickly compose herself again, and smiles. "My pleasure."

"Hi, this is Clark Kent. I'm sorry I can't answer right now, but leave me a message and I'll call you back."

She hangs up as the usual beep indicates her to record her message, and, adjusting her position to a more comfortable one in their bed, hits the call back button.

She smiles as his voice echoes through the night again. "Hi, this is Clark Kent."

"Okay, Lois, you can do this," she mumbles to herself, taking a deep breath and trying very hard not to panick.

She can do this.

She knew this would happen, she went to Lama classes, she's strong: she's ready. Still, it's two weeks too early, and she's worried the little man inside of her isn't.

"It's okay, sweetie," she says gently, one hand on her stomach, the other grabbing her phone. "We're going to be fine."

It hurts.

It hurts more than anything she's experienced before – and probably more than anything anyone's ever experienced before – and at one point, she's pretty sure she's going to pass out.

She wants Clark, and knowing that's the one thing she can't have hurt even more than the physical part of it all. Martha holds her hand, whispering words of comfort as Diana helps her doctor friend as much as she can, but none of that is enough.

She needs him so much.

She closes her eyes, the only way for her to at least see him, and clutches her engagement ring in her hand.

Lois doesn't how, but eventually, she does it: with a final scream, she pushes one last time, and suddenly, it's all over. Two seconds later, loud high cries echoes through the room, and she looks up to see her son.

Releasing a breathless laugh, tears in her eyes, she smiles – she's a mom.

Author's note: Even though I'm pretty sure this is what's going to happen in Justice League, and couldn't be more psyched for it, I really didn't want to write that story, because it makes me sad to think of Clark missing that, and of Lois having to do it alone. But I kept getting asked to, and eventually, the story came, so here you go. It could really be better, but I'm pretty proud of it nonetheless, and sincerely hope you like it, so let me know. I know Lois cries a lot in there, and this is not usually who she is, but given the circumstances, I feel like it's not totally out of character.

Oh, and just like my story "It's always darkest before the dawn," there will be a second chapter - I couldn't resist.