Clark had never been sick before. For 28 years, he'd just been resistant to illness. And now? Now he was hit hard. In some instances, it's how he felt when exposed to light kryptonite radiation. Achey muscles and joints. Lack of energy. Fever. Except there was no meteorite to run away from. And, he decided, he didn't like it. Not one bit. His fear, though, was what all this meant. If something could make him sick, what else was this world going to throw at them? How bad was this going to get? Or, worse, was it going to get worse?
He tried not to let his mind wander to too dark a place. As Lois had told him once upon a time, the dark didn't suit him. She'd handle that for the both of them. But it was hard not to when you were far from home and suddenly a strange illness was spreading that even his super-immunity didn't stave off. Still, the community was rallying together. That was nice. When he heard the knock on the door, though, he let out a groan of... Frustration? Exhaustion? Both? With a grunt, he rolled out of bed -- dressed in a pair of boxers but a blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon.
Was there someone who was supposed to come over? He couldn't remember. So, with much struggle, looking like hell, he opened the door a sliver. "Yes?" he asked.