Twins: 6/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"I had to talk to you, right away," he said. "I just met him."
"'Him'?" There was no question in her mind which 'him' he was referring to. "You mean the imposter? He's here in Metropolis? He's real?"
"As real as I am," he said. "He was standing right in front of me. He looks exactly like me, and he has my powers. At least," he amended, "he can certainly fly, and he's as fast as I am, and after the plane rescue yesterday I think we can assume that he's as strong, so he probably has the rest of them too. I wanted to let you know what happened. It was a little strange."
She couldn't help smiling a little. "I'd say it would be a lot strange," she said. "Sit down and we can talk. Would you like some coffee or tea?"
"Tea will be fine," he said, "but you don't need to ..."
"That's okay. I have tea bags, and I'll zap up some hot water in the microwave," she said, surprised at her lack of nervousness in his presence. It was as if his coming to her for help had changed their relationship somewhat -- put him more on a level with her. If he needed help then he wasn't all-powerful, no matter how incredible the things were that he could do.
He smiled. "Just bring the cups in here and I'll take care of it," he suggested. "It's faster. I want you to hear this. It was ... interesting."
"Superman, you seem to have a gift for understatement," she said, surprising herself. "I'll get the cups."
**********
And now, Part 6:
Clark waited while his partner hurried into the kitchenette and returned a moment later with two mugs filled with water. ""Could you set coasters on the coffee table?" she asked. "They're in the drawer ..."
"In the side table. I see them." He was already opening the drawer to retrieve the coasters she always used on the evenings when they were working on a story here.
"Thanks." She set them down and put the tea bags that had been clutched in one hand on the table. "Is Orange Pekoe all right? I know Clark likes Oolong, and more exotic ones like Lapsang Souchong or something like that, but they didn't have any at the supermarket."
"It's fine," he told her with a smile. "If you like good tea, remind me to bring you a sample from China some time."
"China?" Lois said. "Don't tell me you're a rabid tea drinker like Clark?"
He laughed. "Sometimes," he said. "I like a good cup of tea." He took the mugs and shot darts of heat vision into them until the water bubbled. "Here you go. Watch it; it's hot."
Lois took the mug and set it quickly onto one of the coasters. "Wow! That's incredible!"
Clark put the tea bags into the mugs. "Tea aside, I wanted to tell you what happened a little while ago."
"You actually located the imposter?"
"Actually he found me," Clark said. "It was strange, though. He looks like me, down to the last detail, but he doesn't act like me at all. In fact ..." He paused, trying to decide how to explain. "I was on the last leg of my patrol, and I had the oddest feeling that I was being watched ..."
With careful attention to detail, he described what had happened during the meeting. Lois sat still, her eyes fixed on his face while he spoke, obviously taking in every word.
"... So then, I decided the best thing I could do was to come here and tell you what had happened," he concluded. He swigged from the mug, finishing off the last of the tea.
Lois gave a slightly embarrassed smile. "I'm glad you have that kind of confidence in me," she said. "You're right; that was weird. The guy looks exactly like you and has your powers, but sounds and acts like a little kid. How can that be?"
"I don't have any idea," Clark said. He set the mug down on a coaster. "It's impossible on the face of it."
"So was that business about your super powers heating up Metropolis, and the pheromone thing, and the cyborg boxers -- until we figured out what was really going on," Lois said. "All of those incidents had one thing in common."
"Lex Luthor," Clark said.
She nodded. "Lex Luthor. I did some research after I finally listened to Clark, you know. Lex funded that scientist who blamed your powers for the heat wave. That makes two ways that he was tied to the thing. It wasn't just his nuclear plant that had a leak; it also involved someone who owed his research grant to Lex's approval. And of course, Lex was one of the sponsors, as well as one of the sources of funding, for 'The Ultimate Street Fight' -- besides financing my father's work. I think both of those were deliberate attacks on you, and that he wasn't just an innocent bystander."
"He funded the Mentamide 5 experiments, too," Clark said, before he thought. "I suspected ... and did a little checking of my own."
Lois's eyes widened, then narrowed thoughtfully. "I guess I'm not really surprised. I think it's pretty likely that he *was* the one who had your globe, too. That means he's figured out that you were raised as an ordinary human."
Clark nodded soberly. Since he and Lois had discussed this earlier at the Planet, he wasn't surprised. "Probably."
"There was a bus in Metropolis a few days before I met you for the first time," Lois said suddenly. "It nearly crashed into a bunch of people crossing the street in front of the Daily Planet, and there was a handprint in the front. A woman said some guy stopped it, but nobody paid any attention to her. They figured she was a wacko. That was you, wasn't it?"
There was no point in denying it. "Yes."
"A lot of people wondered about that after you appeared," Lois said, "But nobody was sure. I wondered too, you know, but I figured it couldn't be. But you were here, then. And Lex probably knows. That means he's trying to figure out who you are."
Clark kept his expression bland. Lois had worked almost everything out from the information he'd given her last night, he thought. No wonder she was the best investigative journalist in Metropolis.
She sipped her tea and set the mug down. "I wish you'd told me about him, Superman. Why didn't you?"
Clark shrugged uncomfortably. He had never spoken to her about Lex Luthor in his Superman identity, even after he had told her as Clark. Until this incident, he had kept their meetings deliberately short. If Lois was beginning to notice Clark Kent as more than just a friend, as the effects of the pheromone had suggested, he hadn't wanted to undermine himself in his other identity. "I didn't have any physical proof," he said, "just the things I saw and heard -- and a lot of coincidences. I didn't have any reason to think you'd believe me if you wouldn't believe Clark."
She looked down. "I ... tend to jump to conclusions sometimes," she said. "I thought he was ... well ... passing judgement on my taste in men. I should have known Clark would never do that any more than you would."
"I'm sure he wouldn't," Clark said, a little uncomfortably.
"Anyway," Lois said, reverting hastily to the previous subject, "when something that looks impossible happens now, my first suspect is Lex. If anybody could come up with some way to create a double of you, it would be him."
"How, though?" he asked. "Even Luthor has his limits. I've been trying to imagine actors, plastic surgery, robotic limbs ... none of it makes sense."
"I know. But somebody is behind this and he's at the head of my suspect list. I don't believe for a second that this is all some kind of coincidence. Clark and I will get on it first thing in the morning."
"Thanks, Lois. I knew I could count on you." Clark got to his feet, glancing at the clock. "I guess I'd better go."
"Would you like some more tea?"
He shook his head. "Thanks, no. Good night, Lois."
**********
When Superman had gone, Lois mechanically closed the window and picked up the mugs to return them to the kitchen, but her mind was barely on what she was doing. Was it her imagination, or had Superman seemed uncomfortable when she brought up the question of why he hadn't told her about Lex? Surely he knew that if he'd tried to tell her the truth about Lex Luthor she wouldn't have jumped down his throat the way she had Clark.
And why was that? She asked herself the question as she climbed into bed and switched off the table lamp. Why wouldn't she have snapped at him if he'd tried to do what Clark had? Because he was a super hero and Clark was only a very human man who was a good friend -- a friend who cared a lot about her, she acknowledged privately. She'd known even back then that he was strongly attracted to her, which was what made it so easy to blame his attitude on jealousy.
And maybe there was some jealousy there, she thought. But Clark wouldn't say the things he'd said about someone who was a decent guy. He might dislike a rival, but he wouldn't accuse him of being a criminal. That just wasn't in his nature.
She sighed, staring up into the darkness of her bedroom. Why did she always have to attack first, go for the throat no matter whose feelings she shredded? Clark didn't deserve that kind of treatment and she knew it but she'd done it anyway. He'd shut up and they hadn't spoken to each other for two days except for work-related business.
And maybe Superman thought she would have treated him the same way. She had to admit that he might have reason. Mad Dog Lane chewed men up and spit them out on a daily basis. Everybody knew that.
But she'd made up her mind after the pheromone thing that she would treat Clark better, and she had, hadn't she? At least she'd tried to some of the time, except when her instincts got in the way. When they did, he usually was the one that got yelled at, she acknowledged a little guiltily, but he didn't let her walk on him, either. Sometimes though, she wondered why he seemed to still want to be her partner. Most men would have lost patience with her behavior long since and walked away. But then, Clark was kind of an exceptional guy. In many ways he was a lot like Superman -- in a normal human way, of course.
She punched her pillow and tried to knead it into a comfortable shape. It sure seemed full of lumps tonight. Why was it that when Superman had come to her for help and she had a chance to do something for him, feelings of guilt about the way she treated Clark had to intrude?
Maybe it was because Superman was Clark's friend too, and he seemed to have heard about the argument. Would Clark have told Superman about it? Maybe. On the other hand, those two days of not speaking hadn't exactly been a secret. She had heard the whispers in the newsroom and some of the rumors floating around hadn't been all that complimentary to her -- which of course had made her angrier. She'd half-expected Clark to walk away then, but he hadn't. He'd simply out-waited her.
And he had turned out to be right after all. Sometimes she thought that for all her journalistic acumen, she wasn't a very good judge of men when it came to her personal life.
Well, if she was going to be any good on the job tomorrow she needed to shelve this subject and get some sleep. She would just make a point of being extra-nice to Clark tomorrow, she decided. She was going to have to work on the promise she'd made to herself. Clark didn't know about it, of course, but she did and if she was honest with herself, she hadn't really been all that good about keeping it. That was something she had to change.
Twenty minutes later she was still awake and her mattress had developed a whole herd of lumps. She was going to have to replace this thing, she thought. Maybe it just needed to be turned, though. You had to turn mattresses regularly or something, didn't you? Why didn't they give you a set of directions or a schedule or something when you bought a new mattress? Then you would know when it ought to be turned and it wouldn't get lumpy. Probably a lot of the citizens of Metropolis were sleep-deprived because they didn't know when to turn their mattresses. And how about pillows? If mattresses needed to be turned, should she turn her pillow? The darned thing was lumpier than the mattress.
Well, if she was going to get any sleep tonight, the mattress was going to have to be turned, that was all there was to it. Without further debate, Lois crawled out from under the blankets and pulled the bedclothes off the bed. This shouldn't be too hard.
**********
Clark stripped off his Superman outfit slowly for once, tossed the famous uniform into his laundry hamper and stepped into the shower. It had been a frustrating day, culminating with meeting the imposter and then the conversation with Lois. That short conversation had left him feeling vaguely unsettled. His partner might be getting over some of her Superman-worship, which was a good thing, but the fact was that as Superman he could have told her about Lex Luthor and he hadn't. He'd wanted her to believe Clark because he was Clark, not Superman because he was a flashy, larger-than-life super hero.
But he should have told her, he acknowledged. Lois's safety was more important than his ego, and if he hadn't been so jealous of both Lex Luthor and of Lois's dazzled infatuation with Superman he'd have seen it before. He was going to have to drop this irrational jealousy of his alter ego and be more mindful of Lois's welfare. Besides, when the day came that he was ready to tell her his secret, he didn't want her to be so furious with him that she wouldn't listen to a thing he said.
He stopped abruptly in the act of drying his hair. Tell her his secret? Did he really want to do that?
After a moment he resumed the business of drying off at normal human speed. The question was one that he should have asked before. Yes, he did want to tell her his secret ... eventually. She was the only person in the world that he wanted to tell, and yet conversely the idea scared him silly. Still, if he ever managed to win her love, he would have to tell her the truth if their relationship was to have a hope of succeeding. It was time that he started being a little more mindful of his behavior where it concerned Lois. She had to come before ego, hurt feelings, jealousy, and a host of other concerns.
That decided, he pulled on his sleeping shorts and climbed into bed.
Perhaps an hour later the ringing of the phone awakened him. Half-asleep, he reached for the receiver, fumbled it, knocked it to the floor, picked it up and pushed the talk button. "H'lo?"
"Oh, Clark, did I wake you up?" Lois's voice was definitely shaking and he shot straight up in bed, instantly wide-awake.
"What's the matter?"
"Oh Clark! I'm sorry -- I didn't think you'd be asleep yet! I'm trying to turn my mattress over and it flopped over and knocked my lamp on the floor and broke it, and I stepped on a piece of it and cut my foot, and knocked over my water glass and spilled water all over the mattress -- and I still haven't got it fixed!"
Lois was definitely in a full-fledged babble and she sounded as if she were on the verge of tears. "Hold on, Lois. Calm down. Go take care of your foot. I'll be there in ten minutes to help you, okay?"
"Oh Clark, I shouldn't have called you. It's past midnight, but my foot is bleeding all over the rug and I think I've got a piece of glass in it, and I even broke my alarm clock! This is ..."
"Lois." He put a little of the tone in his voice that he used as Superman to elicit cooperation from upset people. "Take a deep breath. Go stop your foot from bleeding and I'll be right there. Go on, now."
"Okay." He could hear her take a breath. "Thanks, Clark."
"No problem." He hung up and crossed instantly to his dresser, grabbing for the first articles of clothing that came to hand, a pair of worn jeans and a tank top. A moment later he was zipping through the night air to his partner's apartment.
She might be in her night gear but he wasn't likely to catch her in the nude, he assured himself, and he was concerned about her. A quick peek with his x-ray vision showed her wearing a pair of striped pajamas, sitting on the edge of the tub, holding her foot under the stream of water from the faucet. Her bedroom looked as if it had been in the middle of a riot and the amount of blood soaking her rug nearly made him blanch. In an instant, he was at her apartment door and rapping urgently on the wood.
"Just a minute!" Lois's voice sounded somewhat calmer now. There was a thump and a shrill gasp from his partner, then he heard something strike the bathroom tiles and the sound of breakage. A quick peek with his x-ray vision showed him that the tall, fluted container that had held her scented bubble bath was now in several pieces in the middle of a puddle of thick liquid spattered across the bathroom floor. Lois was limping toward the door, leaving red blotches on the rug. He waited, trying to stay calm while she undid the locks and pulled the door open.
Her face was paler than usual and streaked with drying tears. He stepped quickly into the room, taking her arm. "Are you all right, Lois?"
The composed expression on her face disintegrated. "Oh Clark! I've made such a mess of it!"
He kicked the door shut, turned the door lock and scooped her up almost in one motion. "Let me look at that cut. I'll take care of the rest in a minute."
"It's not that bad," she protested.
He ignored the protest and set her on the sofa. "Maybe, but just let me look at it, okay?"
"Okay," she said with uncharacteristic meekness.
He knelt on the rug, lifting her foot to examine the half-inch cut. It was still bleeding, but when he lowered his glasses to check it with his special vision, he saw that she was right. It wasn't deep but it was still oozing somewhat, and there was a small piece of glass still imbedded in it.
"I think I see a sliver of glass," he said. "Do you have a first aid kit?"
She shook her head. "No. There are some Band-Aids and alcohol in the medicine cabinet."
"Hmm. Do you have a straight pin?"
Again she shook her head. "I think there's a safety pin in the drawer of my night stand."
"Okay. Why don't you stay here and I'll get what I need," he told her.
A few minutes later, with his improvised first aid equipment, he had cleaned the cut, removed the glass, poured alcohol over it and carefully covered it with a Band-Aid. The apparent gallons of blood on the rug next to her bed had turned out to be a mixture of blood and the spilled water, he had discovered much to his relief, when he had gone to retrieve the safety pin.
"There," he said, smoothing down the bandage. ""Does that feel better?"
She nodded. "I'm sorry, Clark. I shouldn't have gotten so upset, but everything was going wrong. I couldn't even sleep in my bed and ..."
"Tell you what," he interrupted, getting to his feet, "you sit still and take care of that foot and I'll fix the mattress for you, okay? I used to help Mom turn the mattresses every spring when I was a kid."
She nodded, and he went into the bedroom. Checking to be certain that she was where he'd left her, he quickly replaced the mattress on the bed, used his heat vision to dry the patch on the mattress where the water had spilled and bundled up the bloodied sheets, working at normal human speed. The linen closet yielded new bedclothes and he quickly and efficiently made the bed. A few minutes later he had located her vacuum and cleaned up the broken glass, checking with his special vision to be certain that he'd found all the pieces, and then, with cold water and a towel, he removed as much of the bloodstains from the rug as was practical.
As he returned the vacuum cleaner to its spot in the closet, he glanced at Lois, not surprised to see that now that the crisis was over she had laid her head down on the arm of her highly uncomfortable couch and was dozing. He shook his head smiling a little. He didn't know anyone else who would decide to turn her mattress at midnight, but that was Lois. At least this way she wouldn't ask questions about how quickly he had managed to repair the damage. Softly, he hurried back to the bathroom and proceeded to clean up the broken container and the spilled bubble bath. The last thing Lois needed was to walk in here in the morning and slip in the spilled soap.
When he was finished, he rinsed the towel and hung it up to dry. It looked like he'd done everything he could, and Lois was sound asleep on the sofa. Quietly, he approached his sleeping partner and gently shook her shoulder. "Lois?" he said softly.
She opened her eyes and pushed herself to a sitting position. "Done already?'
"Mostly," he said. "I think the rest of it can wait until tomorrow. Come on; I'll give you a hand to your room. No funny business; I promise."
"Oh Clark," she said, "you don't have to tell me that."
He gave her a boost to her feet and steadied her as she half-hopped across the room to her bedroom. When he lowered her to a seat on the foot of the bed, she gave a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Clark. You're a life-saver."
"Not a problem," he assured her. "But the next time you decide to turn your mattress in the middle of the night, give me some warning, okay?"
She nodded. "I shouldn't have called you," she said, "but ..."
"I hope that you'll call me the next time before it gets to something like this," he said. "Even if it's at two AM. Do you think you can sleep now?"
She gave a small nod, smothering a yawn." "I think so."
"Good. Then I'll see you in the morning."
She nodded again. "Good night, Clark."
**********
(tbc)
