Story ToCPart 12B A/N: Sorry for the ridiculously long wait on this, guys. 
Here's the ToC if you need to remind yourself which story this is. Anyways, I hope this chapter is at least enjoyable. 
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Part 13“Are you sure you can't come home any sooner?”
Michel stepped deeper into Clark's room, the cordless phone pressed against his ear. The Kents were all gathered in Clark's kitchen, so he had come in here for a bit of privacy.
“It was the soonest flight I could get, Mother,” he replied, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. He thought for a moment, and a smile crept across his face. “Unless, perhaps, I come home the other way?”
“The other way?” his mother echoed, sounding confused. “What other---?” She broke off. “No!” she said firmly. “No, no, NO! Michel, you are joking! Tell me you are joking!”
His grin vanished. “Of course I was only joking, Mother,” he replied.
“That 'Superman' is a bad influence on you!” his mother admonished. “After everything we did and all we sacrificed to keep you safe all these years, you want to just go zipping through the skies in broad daylight?!”
“It wouldn't be broad—” he began, then corrected himself. “I mean, I am coming by plane, Mother. Don't worry.”
“I suppose next, you'll be wanting a set of brightly colored tights!” she continued. “Then, the world will be sure to see you! We could have your name emblazoned on them, as well!”
Michel sighed. “No, Mother. I do not want a set of—”
“And what about the heat?!” she suddenly exclaimed. “If your abilities are like his, and his have been linked to the overheating of Metropolis, then what will happen to France if you start galavanting around? We will all bake!”
“Actually, he has been cleared of that,” Michel told her, reaching up to adjust his glasses.
“Oh?” his mother asked, sounding curious.
“Yes,” said Michel. “We did some research and discovered that the heat was being caused by a faulty nuclear power plant that had been irradiating the local bismuth deposits into polonium. Cl—er, Superman disabled the plant, and we were able to avert a disaster!” It was a heady feeling, knowing he had helped to save an entire city. He gazed out the window, wondering if this was how Clark felt all the time.
“We?” his mother echoed, suspiciously. “What part did you play in all this?”
“Only research, Mother,” Michel reassured her, turning away from the window. He stood and crossed the room to Clark's bookcase, staring at the innocent little box that held the globe. “Er, speaking of how alike our abilities are...” he began, his mouth breaking into a wide, unsuppressable grin. “I have some things to talk to you and Papa about.”
“Oh?” she asked. “What kind of things?”
“I cannot really explain over the phone,” Michel replied, “but, I was wondering: could I perhaps bring him over for dinner, next week?”
There was silence on the other end of the line. Finally, his mother said, “I will speak to your father about it.”
Michel let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. “Thank you, Mama.”
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Clark lowered his glasses and heated up his parents' tea, grateful that he didn't have to worry about suppressing his powers anymore.
“So, what does it all mean?” his father asked, taking a square of chamonix from the plate on the table. He sniffed it, took a small bite, then raised his eyebrows in appreciation.
“I don't know,” Clark replied with a shrug. He set the now-steaming mugs down in front of them before sitting down across from them with his own. “It means he's Kryptonian, I guess.”
“Do you think the two of you are related?” his mom asked over the rim of her cup.
“I don't know!” Clark said again. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Look, just because we look alike, have the same powers, are the same age, and come from the same planet...” He trailed off. “Okay, admittedly, it does seem possible,” he allowed. “But, it could still be a coincidence.”
His parents exchanged a look.
“It could be that one of us is a clone,” Clark pointed out. “Or, maybe we're both clones; maybe everyone on Krypton is!” He gestured wildly, making the tea slosh in his cup. He took another sip before setting it down.
“You mean, like the Sontarans?” his mom asked.
Clark frowned. “What?”
“Your mother's been watching a lot of BBC lately,” his dad explained, polishing the last chocolaty crumbs of chamonix off his fingers and reaching for another piece. “She got hooked on some British sci-fi show.”
Clark shook his head. “Well, all I'm saying is we don't know for sure.”
“Don't know what, for sure?” Michel came out of the bedroom, pressing the button on the cordless phone. He hung it in its cradle on the wall before coming to join them.
Clark hesitated. “I was just...telling my folks about what happened with the globe.”
A dazed grin took over Michel's face as he settled into the free chair near Clark. “I do not know which is more exciting: to finally know where I am from, or to know that I have a fellow countryman, here!” He clasped Clark on the shoulder, beaming.
His mom smiled sympathetically at Michel. “Michel, do you think you could bring over some photos of your own spaceship, sometime?” she asked. “I think we should try to compare it to Clark's.”
Michel's grin vanished. “Er...” He fidgeted. “I don't...er...”
Something in Clark's gut twisted, and his heart-rate sped up as if trying to keep pace with Michel's galloping pulse. “Michel doesn't have access to his ship, right now,” he told them. “We'll just have to treat it as if it doesn't exist.” Of course, it actually didn't, but that conversation could wait until Michel was ready to have it, and right now, every fiber in Clark's being was screaming that he wasn't.
His parents exchanged another glance, but dropped the subject. Michel slumped back in his chair, radiating gratitude and relief. After a moment, he turned towards Clark. “Actually,” he began, “I was wondering if I could borrow your globe, to study?”
Clark curled his hands around his tea. “What do you mean 'study'?” he asked, suspiciously.
“In my lab,” Michel explained. “Its mineral composition could tell us so much more about Krypton than just the meteorite, not to mention the questions of how it was made, how it works...” He snatched a twinkie off the snack-plate and took a bite. “Its surface feels more like a crystal than any kind of metal, but who knows what could be inside?”
Clark winced. “Michel, I do not want you taking apart that globe!”
“But aren't you just a little bit curious how it works?” Michel asked.
“You'll break it!” Clark protested.
“But think how much we could learn from it!” Michel insisted, gesturing with the remaining half of the twinkie.
Clark glanced towards his parents, hoping they could somehow help him to make Michel see reason. Instead, he found them hiding smiles behind their cups of tea. His mother made a half-snorting sound that might have been a stifled laugh. With a sigh, he turned back to Michel and folded his arms. “You are not getting my globe,” he said, sternly.
“Fine,” Michel huffed, finishing the twinkie and copying Clark's pose. “Do you want your meteorite back, also, Mr. Leave-things-alone?”
Clark shook his head. “No, thank you!” he said, leaning back with his tea. “You can smash it into atoms, for all I care; I hope I never see that thing again!”
TBC...
