He could understand why she didn't want to go to the medbay. Everyone else was probably crowded in there now, either working at trying to save Rose's life or waiting to see if her life was going to be saved. Lois was in no shape to be around other people right now and that environment was already stressful enough. They weren't going there.
Clark kept a steady grip on her hand. With her current detached behavior, Clark was half afraid that she was going to give up and fall over if he decided to let go. "Okay," he agreed, "not the medbay." He would take her back to their apartment. It was quiet there, they'd be alone, and it was far enough from all this blood that Lois wouldn't have to force herself to look at it anymore. At least, physically she wouldn't. Mentally, it would take a lot more than a trip upstairs to keep the memory of all this blood from engraving itself into her mind.
She had lucked out in a way. She wasn't laying in the hospital this time, but those wounds on her back still looked deep enough to warrant some concern about their condition. Clark gave Lois' hand a squeeze, gave the bloody mess splattered along the side of the complex one final hard look, then he led the way back to their apartment. They had enough medical supplies in there, the last he checked. And if they somehow ran out? It wouldn't take him more than a minute to check out into the nearest store. They didn't need to go anywhere near the medbay right now. Clark was a fairly poor substitute for Martha or Rory, but Lois wasn't dying. He could handle clean-up and wrap duty. If she needed more care than that, he'd make it in point to bring Lois down to them once they were finished with Rose and Dick.
They didn't run into anyone on the way up, which Clark found himself feeling incredibly grateful for. He didn't particularly want to talk to anyone else right now. And if he didn't want to talk to anyone, he knew that Lois sure didn't.
Once inside of their apartment, Clark made Lois sit on the couch and instructed her to take her shirt off. He grabbed the med supplies from the bathroom, along with a soft washcloth soaked in warm water, and set them up on the table behind the couch. "Rose is going to be okay." Clark looked over at her, knowing that he could at least reassure her in this way. Martha and Rory were good at what they did. He had every faith that she was going to come out of all of this in one piece. "Dick, too. They're in good hands."