Twins: 2/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"I don't know. Yet, anyway. How long will it take for you to dig that up for me?"
"Not long." Jimmy turned back to his computer and began to type. "Do you have any idea what was up with CK today? He seemed kind of upset."
Lois shrugged. "I noticed but he's not talking about it, whatever it is."
"Hope it's not anything serious," Jimmy said.
"So do I. Maybe he'll say something to me tomorrow."
In less than five minutes Jimmy handed her a sheet of paper with the information that she had requested. In the last twenty-four hours, Superman had been busy. He had saved the airliner in Paris, of course, righted a sinking ship in Rio, saved a busload of schoolchildren in Surinam and rescued a trio of trapped Alpine climbers in Switzerland. The only recent documented appearance he had made in the United States had been thirty-one hours ago in northwestern Kansas, where he had prevented the crash of a train into a passenger car that was stuck on the train tracks.
Lois read the list over twice before she folded the paper and stuck it into her purse. She wasn't really sure if it meant anything, but she had the feeling that it did. For some reason, that incident this morning had upset Clark. Maybe if she did a little snooping around, she could find out why.
**********
And now, Part 2:
The stiff March wind had softened somewhat from this morning, but it was still strong enough to blow the hats from people's heads as Clark Kent walked slowly toward his apartment. He saw various items cast about by the capricious gusts: a cowboy hat, a scarf, lots of scattered paper and trash and someone's sock, of all things. For a moment he wondered if someone was walking along with one sock and then decided that it had probably come from one of those clotheslines that some of the tenants of apartments used to dry their clothes.
The report from Paris had been in his mind all day. He had witnessed the impossible this morning, and he had absolutely no idea what to do about it. Someone or something that looked very much like him from what he had been able to see, and possessing his unique super powers, had rescued that airliner. The fact that he/it had saved all those lives was a good thing, but he had been staring at a mystery. Who or what was this person, and where did he come from? It had surprised him that Lois had noticed his preoccupation but on second thought he realized it shouldn't have. Most people seemed to think that Mad Dog Lane didn't pay attention to anyone but herself, and, of course, her story, but he'd known for some time that "most people" were wrong. True, his partner was a very focused individual when it came to her job, but his coworkers had never gotten to know the real Lois, as he flattered himself that he was beginning to do. It was unfortunate that he'd had to turn down her help. Her investigative ability was just what he needed right now.
A short distance from the Planet he ducked into an alley and seconds later Superman was scanning the city from a thousand feet. There was no sign of the mystery man, of course, not that he really expected ... well, he couldn't say that. He did half-expect that he might see something. Still, whoever or whatever the phenomenon was, he could conceivably be anywhere in the world, and Clark's chances of finding him were pretty small unless he wanted to be found. After several fruitless circles, he headed for his apartment.
Neither the radio nor the television had any further reports on Superman. He listened to the world news and watched the rescue again, then picked up the phone and dialed his parents in Kansas.
The phone rang several times before his mother picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Mom."
"Jonathan, it's Clark!" He could hear her shout clearly, and a few seconds later he heard his father pick up the extension.
"Clark?"
"Hi, Dad."
"Just calling to say hi?" Jonathan Kent's voice was as warm as always when speaking to Clark. The sound of his father's voice had always had the power to reassure the younger Clark that somehow, with all the strange things happening to him, it was still going to be okay. Well, something strange had sure happened today.
"Not exactly, Dad. Did you see that thing on television this morning?"
"Clark, that was so thrilling!" his mother's voice interrupted.
"No Mom, wait; that's not ..."
"Yeah, all those people," his father chimed in, enthusiastically. "We are so proud!"
"I have to admit," his mother said, "it was kind of a surprise, seeing you in Paris."
"I wasn't in Paris," Clark said. He discovered that he had begun to pace without realizing it and was standing on the ceiling, head down.
A short silence. "You ... well ..." Jonathan fumbled. "What do you mean?"
"It wasn't *me*!" His tie had flopped into his face and he brushed it aside, pacing distractedly back and forth.
"What are you ... what are you saying?" his mother's voice said.
"Look, it was somebody ... something else." The tie flopped into his face again, and he tucked it impatiently into his belt. "I watched it too, Mom. From the newsroom. Believe me, when I saw him, it was like my whole world turned upside down." He crossed the ceiling above his kitchen table and reached down to snatch an apple from the bowl in its center. He took a large bite and chewed vigorously.
"But Clark," he mother faltered, "we saw you. You flew. You were wearing your outfit. Who else could do that?"
"I don't know," he said, "but someone did."
"Now Clark," his father said, "maybe you should make some kind of public statement, get this out in the open; let the world know there's an imposter out there."
"No, Dad." Not until I know what I'm dealing with." He felt the phone slip and caught it as it fell. "I'll talk to you guys soon, okay?" he said.
"All right," Jonathan Kent said. "You be careful, son. If this imposter has your powers and is pretending to be you, he could be dangerous."
"He might not be," Clark said. "What if he's not an enemy?"
"Either way," Martha said, "be a little careful, Clark."
"I will," he said.
After he had hung up he glanced at his watch. It was just past six. It would be after eleven in France, but Superman could make the trip in minutes and all he needed was a quick look ...
In another second, he was on his way.
**********
Anyone who knew Lois Lane wouldn't have seen anything unusual in the way she spent her evening. After she locked the apartment door behind her, the first thing she did was to snap on the television set, tune it to a 24-hour news station and head into the bedroom to change into her sloppiest clothes. Tonight she was going to do some serious research but part of it involved watching that rescue again, if she could find it replaying somewhere.
When she came out of the bedroom in a pair of cut-off jeans and a T-shirt, she went into her kitchenette. There were several frozen dinners in her freezer and she selected one at random, her attention only half on what she was doing as she listened to the news report issuing from the living room.
Leaving the dinner cooking, she returned to the living room and booted up her laptop. Maybe there would be something on the Internet about Superman. She typed the word into the search engine and let the computer look, tapping her fingers on the desk.
There was, as usual, the stuff about fan clubs, his various charity appearances, and the newspaper articles about his rescues. Except for the rescues, everything was at least three days old. Superman hadn't been very active in the United States for the past couple of days, even in Metropolis. The incident in Kansas thirty-some hours ago caught her eye and she frowned at the information displayed in the article. The newspaper of origin had been the Smallville Press and Superman had been just outside Smallville when he apparently spotted a car stalled on the railroad tracks. The driver had been a teenage boy from Smallville High, the local high school, named Walter Harris, and was the nephew of the current sheriff, Rachel Harris. Lois's eyebrows rose at the familiar name. What had Superman been doing in the vicinity of Smallville thirty-two hours ago?
Well, he and Clark were friends. Maybe he'd dropped by to visit Clark's parents or something. She would ask Clark tomorrow.
The whiff of smoke from her kitchen reminded her that she had been cooking dinner. A glance in the direction of her kitchenette showed her a haze of smoke hanging in the air and she hurried to the stove to remove the tray of charcoal that had been her meal.
She dumped it summarily into the garbage and started to open the freezer, then stopped. What would Clark do if she dropped by with a pizza? Being Clark, he'd probably invite her in, and then maybe she could ask a few questions in a sort of casual way, and maybe learn something. She reached for the telephone.
Forty-five minutes later, pizza in one hand and a six-pack of soda balanced precariously atop the box, she knocked on her partner's door.
Silence behind the door, except for what sounded like the radio or television. After several minutes, she knocked again, then began to look in the various places where she knew Clark hid his spare key. She found it in the third spot she checked, under a flowerpot with a miniature cactus growing in it.
The apartment was uninhabited when she walked in. The lights were on and the television was going, tuned to the same news station that she had been watching. The kitchen was silent. She could see no sign of food preparation. An apple with two bites out of it sat next to the telephone but the white flesh of the apple was moist, with no sign of the browning that was normally produced by contact with the air, so Lois concluded that it hadn't been there long. Her partner must have just stepped out, she thought. She debated the question of going back to her own place for all of two seconds, then plopped the pizza box down on the coffee table and went to put the soda in his refrigerator. She settled herself on the sofa and after a second's debate, she helped herself to a slice of pizza. She knew that Clark wouldn't mind, and she was hungry.
**********
Clark flew back toward Metropolis, still trying to make sense of what he had discovered in Paris. The 797 had been sitting on the field near a maintenance hangar, and it hadn't been difficult for Superman to avoid the airport guards. He had slipped under the plane and within seconds located what he was looking for. There were handprints in the underside of the big aircraft -- handprints that exactly matched his own.
Approaching his apartment, it was fortunate that checking ahead had become an ingrained habit, for Lois was seated on his sofa with her feet on his coffee table, munching a piece of pepperoni pizza and watching the news. He smiled slightly. His partner looked very much at home, and that felt unexpectedly good. Lois had become a lot more comfortable with him since the incident with Miranda's perfume back in November. Even now, worried as he was about the unexplained happening this morning, he was glad she was there.
Quietly, he landed in the alley behind the apartment house and, clutching the bag of croissants that he had been unable to resist purchasing while in France, he hurried around to his front door.
Lois turned her head as he stepped inside. "Where've you been?"
"Out," he said. "Make yourself at home."
"Thanks, I will. I brought pizza and breadsticks. The soda's in the fridge."
He pushed the door shut and turned the lock. "Any specific reason or did you just have a sudden overwhelming urge to have dinner with me?" he asked politely.
"I burned my frozen dinner," she said. "Besides, I wasn't really that hungry for meatloaf and green beans, anyway."
He grinned slightly and set the bag of croissants next to the pizza box. "Have one. I'll get the soda and glasses."
"Thanks." He heard the rustle of the paper bag as he made his way toward the kitchen. "I've been doing some research," Lois said. "Did you know that the only news of Superman in the United States in the last two days was in Smallville, thirty-three hours ago?"
"Actually, no," Clark said.
"Don't you think that's odd?"
"I don't know," Clark said. "I don't see why." He took two glasses from the cupboard, dropped ice cubes into them and filled them with soda. "Where has he been besides Paris?"
"He rescued three Alpine climbers in Switzerland, saved a school bus in Surinam and a cruise ship in Rio. And, of course, he saved Sheriff Harris's nephew from getting killed by a train in Smallville."
Clark paused in mid-step. He hadn't been to any of those places except for Smallville. The imposter, whoever he was, seemed to be getting around -- but, as Lois said, not in the States. Now that was very interesting. Maybe the guy was trying to avoid him. "Now that you mention it, it is a little funny," he said, continuing on into the living room. "On the other hand, maybe Superman's on vacation or something."
"Pretty active vacation," Lois said. She bit into the croissant and paused. "This is fantastic! Where did you get these?"
"Um ... a little French bakery I know. Mind if I have a slice of pizza?"
"Go ahead."
"Thanks. Here's your soda. Where did you find out this stuff about Superman?"
"Jimmy did a search for me. I guess you could be right. Metropolis doesn't own him, but I thought he said he considered Metropolis his home."
"That's what he said in the interview," Clark said, cautiously. "Still, the guy can fly anywhere in the world in seconds, so I guess it isn't surprising that he'd turn up in France to save that airliner."
"I suppose not." Lois finished the croissant and reached for another slice of pizza. She glanced sideways at him. "Is everything all right with your parents, Clark?"
"Sure. Why wouldn't it be?"
"I just wondered."
The news report shifted just then to pictures of the plane's rescue again and then to an airline official commenting on the event. "France Trans Atlantic Airlines wishes to extend their thanks to Superman for preventing what would have been a major tragedy," he said. "The Man of Steel didn't wait for our thanks; no doubt he had other lives to save elsewhere, but the airline wishes him to know that he has our eternal gratitude and the gratitude of every passenger ..."
"Probably off to Rio to save the cruise ship," Lois said. "I guess I can't really complain. Speaking unselfishly, Superman should belong to the world, but I thought Metropolis was special to him."
"I think it probably is," Clark said. "But you know if he hears about something like that airliner, he's going to go try to help."
"Yeah." She took a bite of pizza and chewed vigorously. "Still, haven't there been any emergencies in the city in the last couple of days?"
"Probably," Clark said. "We've got a pretty good police force, though. Superman can't do everything. You said that yourself."
"I did, didn't I," she said, somewhat thickly through the pizza. "I guess he has to let the police earn their salary."
"I'm sure that if some kind of big emergency turns up, he'll be there."
"I guess so." She cast a sideways glance at him. "You're sure *you're* okay?"
"I'm okay, Lois."
"It's just that you've looked kind of upset all day," she explained. "I was a little worried."
He was unexpectedly touched. Say what you might about Mad Dog Lane, she cared about her friends.
"Would you like to watch a movie?" he suggested. "I rented a tape of Lethal Weapon for this weekend, but we could watch it now."
"Okay," she said quickly, and he thought she seemed a little embarrassed at her unaccustomed display of concern.
"I'll get it," he said. "Have another croissant."
Two-and-a-half hours later, Superman followed her as she drove back to her apartment, flying six hundred feet above her so that neither she nor any chance passerby would notice that Superman seemed to be paying any unusual amount of attention to Lois Lane, but even as he guarded his partner's safety he was thinking hard. Lois was the best investigative reporter at the Daily Planet, even better than he was, and without the advantage of his super-human abilities. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea if Superman dropped by and asked for her help. If anyone could figure out what was going on, it would be Lois Lane.
**********
(tbc)
