Story ToC-----
"So, what's this?" Clark asked, now lounging on his sofa in more comfortable clothes and looking inside the bag Michel had just handed him. A small cake-box sat atop two brightly-colored boxes of chocolate, orange-filled tastiness. He automatically stood and moved toward the kitchen.
"Two boxes of Chamonix and a slice of cake," Michel confirmed. "Er, the cake is from Susanne."
Clark paused in his task of setting the boxes out on the counter and turned to Michel, eyes widening with curiosity. "Susanne?"
Michel gave a sheepish little shrug. "We were supposed to start a research project today," he explained, "but when I heard you were going to be in court, I asked to postpone: I said I had a sick aunt in Canada who desperately needed to see me. Susanne was surprisingly kind about it," he reflected, looking a little confused. "She brought me this cake from the little shop near her place, wished my 'aunt' well, and then somehow drifted into a tirade about how Americans are all insane."
Clark felt the corner of his mouth twitch: that trait of tangential rambling seemed a little familiar.
"I'm sorry I could not get here sooner," Michel continued on. "So many tourists and scientists are flocking to Metropolis that nearly every flight was booked. How did your trial go?"
"It...wasn't exactly a trial," Clark replied. He opened the cups cabinet. "Tea?"
"All right," Michel acquiesed. "So, what happened, then?"
Clark said nothing for a while, gathering his thoughts as he took two mugs down and hunted for the teabags.
"Clark?" Michel pressed.
"They banned me from using my powers," Clark finally confessed.
Michel gasped. "What?!"
"It's just until they figure out what else could be causing the heat," Clark said without much conviction. In truth, he had no idea what the future would hold for him...or for Superman. He filled the two mugs with water, then caught himself automatically lowering his glasses. With a sigh, he began hunting for the kettle.
Michel stepped into the kitchen and placed a hand on Clark's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said, sympathetically. "I know how much being Superman meant to you."
Clark found himself bristling at Michel's use of the past tense. "Do you really think I should just stop?!"
Michel looked taken aback. "Well, yes!" he said. "You just said that the court ordered you to."
Clark shook his head. "I can probably live with having to use a kettle to make tea," he said, finally laying his hands on an old kettle in the back of a cabinet and holding it up as though to prove his point, "but if people are in danger, I can't just sit by. Not when I could do something about it!"
Michel stared at him for a moment, then sighed. "Clark, I used to have such admiration for you," he said, "but now, you are being completely unreasonable!"
"Unreasonable?" Clark echoed in disbelief, setting the kettle down by the sink.
"Yes!" Michel threw his hands up in the air. "Will you listen to yourself? You are talking about flouting the law! You would become a criminal!"
"Laws are supposed to protect people!" Clark insisted. "A law that isn't protecting someone isn't a just law!"
"Life is not always just, Clark," Michel snapped, folding his arms.
"That's why we have to *make* it just," Clark retorted, unconsciously copying Michel's pose.
"And what if you *are* causing the heat?" Michel shot back. "Will millions suffer so you can avert one tragedy?" The question cut like a knife. Michel must have seen or sensed the effect it had on Clark, because he lowered his arms and his expression softened. "Clark, you're a good man, but you need to think about the broader consequences."
Clark thought over Michel's words, and his mind flashed back to that other argument they'd had, not so long ago. "Michel," he said at last, "you're right."
Michel's eyebrows raised in surprise.
"We *are* different," Clark clarified. "Death is not a consequence I'll tolerate, no matter *what* the alternatives are."
For a long while, Michel only stared at him in silence. Clark felt as though a gap had somehow yawned open between them, and he couldn't think of anything to say that would close it. Finally, Michel stood and gathered up his coat from the back of the sofa. "Perhaps I should go," he said sadly.
"Wait!" Clark blurted, reaching out towards him.
Michel paused, still clutching his coat, and turned to him with a curious expression.
Seconds ticked by. "You, uh, came all this way," Clark said at last. "Won't you at least have some tea?"
**********
TBC...
