Emma was reluctant to leave the waiting area. Any time away meant news could come that she would miss. Whether good or bad. Good was Lois awake and wondering why everyone was there and shouldn't they all be getting ready for Thanksgiving. Bad was... Well. Emma was a realist. She'd never been an optimist, not with her upbringing. And she wasn't much of a pessimist, either. Why invite trouble that wasn't there? But she did look at reality and she did know there was a possibility her friend wasn't going to pull through.
And she couldn't help but blame herself. Lois had been nothing short of amazing to her. Even when Emma had been wrapped up in one of the biggest mistakes of her life, Lois had never passed judgment. She'd offered her a friend when she'd needed it the most, a shoulder to lean on. With time, she'd become second only to Mary Margaret Blanchard on the list of women in Emma's life. And how had she repaid her? Getting her wrapped up in this mess, with people who she knew for a fact were trained killers. If Lois didn't make it, she'd blame herself forever.
That comforting spot by Graham's side was almost stifling the more she thought about her current situation. How could he want to be around her, knowing all that he did? Lois had allowed him to know what she was up to. He knew this was partially Emma's doing. Why he had volunteered to come, she would never know. So as much as she wanted to stay by in case there was an update, she took advantage of Kon's inability to go upstairs. She excused herself and bolted to the front lobby and out where Clark's...whatever he was, waited. She wouldn't call him a clone. That was too impersonal. Clark seemed too young to have a son that age. A brother, maybe. Whatever.
She found the dark haired boy looking sullen and a little panicked. Not that different than a teenaged Emma might have. Angry and confused and pissed off at the world. "There's no change," she began, leaning on the nearest wall to him. "She's still fighting. That's a good sign, at least."