A/N: This chapter...I cannot even tell you. It was a rewrite-the-whole-outline chapter, is what it was. Anyway, since it's been so long, here's the ToC, and here's a quicker recap:
PREVIOUSLY:
Clark Kent has met a French Geologist named Michel who looks suspiciously like him, has the same powers, and is also adopted. While visiting Kansas, Michel stole the kryptonite Wayne had given to the Kents for safe-keeping. Some time thereafter, a bunch of mysterious goons in suits stole it from his lab, after unwittingly exposing him to it and very-wittingly rigging said lab to explode. Clark and Michel discovered that they can connect telepathically, just not very well or on purpose, and Michel has arranged for Clark to have dinner with his parents.
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From Part 16:
“Are you still coming to dinner tonight?”
Clark blinked at him, then shrugged. “Sure, if you want me too. Do you want to postpone it until you're feeling better?”
Michel shook his head. “I'll be fine, Clark. Besides, if we suddenly reschedule, my mother would ask why, and I do not want to lie to her.”
Clark's eyebrows rose. “You're not going to tell her what happened?”
“You mean tell her that a group of murderers infiltrated my office, stole a rock that can kill both of us, exposed me to it, drugged me, and then rigged my lab to explode?”
Clark paused. “We said seven, right? Do your parents like sake?”
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Part 17Clark tried not to squirm under Mrs. Renaud's piercing stare—*Professor* Renaud, he corrected himself. His decision to show up as Clark Kent had felt like the right one at the time: show good faith to the family of a man who'd already trusted him with his own secret, and at the same time, remind them that he was a normal guy, just like their son. His own parents had even approved of the idea. Now, though...all it seemed to accomplish was making him feel naked.
“So,” she said slowly, cutting a bite from her chicken and letting the red wine drip from it, “your parents don't mind that their son is constantly being filmed and photographed, with not even a mask to hide your face?”
“It's worked alright so far,” Clark answered with a nervous chuckle. He took a sip of his wine. “Part of it is just pretending that I have nothing to hide.”
“And what happens if someone doesn't believe you?” her husband asked, raising a bushy eyebrow at him.
“Then...I handle whatever happens,” Clark replied, trying to smile. His smile eventually faltered under their gazes, and he focused on finding more pieces of bacon in his dish.
“He has managed to keep his secret for months, already,” Michel offered, lapsing into silence as soon as they turned their stares onto him.
“Look, I know it's risky,” Clark admitted, finding a bit of bacon under one of the mushrooms, “but it's a lot better than the alternative.”
“Which is?” the elder Renauds asked at once.
“No disguise at all,” Clark replied. “I just...I can't stop helping people. If something's wrong, and I have the power to make it right, I can't just sit by and do nothing, even if it means there's a slight risk that—”
Michel yelped, his knife clattering onto his dish.
Both professors turned to their son. “Michel?!” Mrs. Renaud exclaimed, “what's the matter?!”
Clark glanced at the panicked look on Michel's face as the man discreetly tucked one hand under the table. A few drops of red on the blade of the knife didn't quite match the wine. “Uh...” Clark stammered, “he, uh, gets very upset about the whole Superman thing. We've argued about it before.”
“Is this true?” she asked Michel.
Michel nodded. “We have argued, yes.”
“You look like you're in pain,” Mrs. Renaud noted, frowning.
“Arguments can be very painful,” Clark explained. Under the guise of focusing on his meal, he x-rayed the table and got a look at Michel's hand.
“I suppose that is true,” she acknowledged, still looking dubious.
“Shall we change the subject, then?” her husband offered. “What else should we talk about?”
Clark shrugged. “Oh, any thumb. Er, anything.” He was dimly aware of a swift kick at his leg, followed by another stifled hiss of pain from Michel.
The elder Renauds looked at their son, suspiciously.
“We could talk about Kansas,” Clark said quickly, trying to regain their attention. His eye caught the wineglass, and an idea began to form. With a mental apology that Michel probably couldn't hear, he picked his glass up. “Or, I could tell you about some of my travels,” he continued, waving the glass in his hand dramatically while he spoke. “Anything at all: my life is an open book!” At this, he flung his arms wide, giving Michel a small but expensive shower. “Whoops!”
Everyone rose to their feet, but Clark stood first, daubing at Michel with his napkin. “I'm *so* sorry about that,” he said, pressing the napkin into his friend's hand and discreetly wrapping a corner around the cut. “Really, how clumsy of me!”
“Oh, it's no problem,” Michel said, giving him a grateful smile. “I hated this suit, anyway.”
Once the chaos had settled and everyone finally returned to their seats, Michel's father leaned forward. “As a matter of fact, Mr. Kent, there is something my wife and I want to ask you: what is this we hear about a globe?”
Clark swallowed the last remaining sip from his now-empty glass. “I'm glad you mentioned that,” he said. “It's something I've been wanting to ask you both about, as well.”
The two professors shared a look.
“Could you please tell me about how you first found Michel?” Clark asked.
Mrs. Renaud opened her mouth to speak, but her husband answered first. “No.”
Clark's eyebrows rose.
“Papa!” Michel protested.
The elder Renaud folded his arms and fixed a steely gaze on Clark. “First explain the globe,” he said.
Michel sighed, his shoulders slumped.
“It's kind of hard to explain,” Clark began.
“It shows maps of Earth and Krypton,” Michel chimed in. “It can also plant information directly into your head when you touch it!”
“...That,” Clark said, smiling a little. “It was originally a part of my ship; I get the impression it was the navigation drive or something.”
“Your ship?” Michel's mother echoed.
“The one that brought me to Earth when I was a baby,” Clark explained. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the photo he and his parents had taken of it. “Michel couldn't tell me what you found him in, but I was thinking it had to have been a ship too, right? Can you just tell me if it looked anything at all like this one?”
The older man took the photo from him, his wife leaning to look over his shoulder. Immediately, their faces turned pale.
“Er, Dr. Renaud?” Clark asked after a few minutes, not caring which of them answered as long as somebody broke the silence.
Michel's mother drained her glass.
“...Mother?” Michel asked, worriedly.
“You...have this...just...lying around?” the woman asked, a fire burning in her eyes as she snatched the photo and waved it at Clark. “This whole ship?!”
“It's not just 'lying around'—” Clark protested.
“What if someone finds it?!” she shrieked, cutting him off.
Clark nervously glanced at Michel. Michel suddenly found his dinner to be very interesting.
“What if—” Michel's mother started to say, then broke off, looking back and forth between Clark and her son. “...No.” She took in a breath. “No. I'm sorry, but no!”
Clark and Michel both stared at her, their faces matching with confusion.
Michel's father gently took the photo from her and handed it back to Clark. “Mr. Kent, I'm afraid we must ask you to have nothing to do with Michel anymore.”
“WHAT?!” the two young men shouted at once.
“Papa!”
“Dr. Renaud, why?!”
Mrs. Renaud stared down at the table, looking like she was on the verge of tears. Her husband folded his arms. “The truth is, Mr. Kent, my wife and I first agreed to let Michel contact you because we needed to know what you were. Clearly, there is a link between the two of you...which means that anyone who finds you may trace you to him.” He narrowed his eyes. “And you've gone out of your way to make it so that people will *try* to find you.”
Clark sputtered. “Dr. Renaud—”
The older man held up a hand. “Perhaps we can't force you to do the right thing with your ship or your globe or your so-called 'disguise', but we can at least try to keep our son out of your blast radius! If you care about Michel at all, then you should forget you ever met him.”
Clark glared. “Dr. Renaud, I get that you're worried about Michel, but he's a grown man! You can't just—” He turned to Michel, the rest of his words dying on his lips as he saw his friend's shoulders slump in defeat. “Michel?”
Michel said nothing. Clark tried reaching out to him with his mind, but all he felt was a wave of regret.
“I see.” Clark heaved a sigh. “Well, thank you all for a lovely dinner, and I'm sorry about the mess. Good evening.”
No one said a word as he stood and left the table. By the time the door closed behind him, he was half-way across the Atlantic.
TBC...
