“I'm sorry we don't have much time,” Clark said as they strolled down one of the lonelier trails winding through Centennial Park. The grass was still green and vibrant, though most of the trees had surrendered their leaves to the winter chill. “I have to get back to Lois pretty soon.”
“Ah, but of course.” Michel gave him a tiny smile and took a sip from his coffee.
Clark stared down at the paper cup in his own hand. “We've already been holed up in that hotel for days,” he complained. “I don't know how much more I can take!”
Michel let out a low whistle. For some reason, Clark felt a vague sense of awe.
“How have you been, though?” Clark asked.
They came to a bench beneath a sprawling maple that dutifully tried to shade it despite only having a few brown leaves remaining. “Eh, work has been all right, I suppose,” Michel said as they sank down onto it. “Susanne has been very nice to me ever since the—ah, theft. I think she still feels responsible.”
Clark took the lid off his coffee and took a sip. “But how have *you* been?” he asked, pointedly.
Michel sighed. “Terrible,” he admitted. He glanced around, then turned to face Clark. “I used to be content with just being a normal man; no strange abilities, no connections to outer space.... Now, that life simply does not have quite the same appeal.”
“I know what you mean,” Clark said. “I used to sometimes wish I really was just Clark Kent, son of farmers. But then when the Kryptonite took my powers away, everything just felt...well...”
“Wrong,” Michel filled in.
“Exactly,” said Clark.
“Clark?” Michel began. “I think it is time to accept that we...”
“...aren't normal,” Clark finished. They turned to look at each other, then burst out laughing.
“You know, we never did figure out the whole telepathy thing,” Clark pointed out, still chuckling.
“This is true!” Michel agreed. “Hmm, let us consider what we know...” He set his coffee on the bench beside him and turned to Clark, ticking off the points on his fingers. “I know I heard you the first time you encountered the Kryptonite...”
“And I heard you when you were in trouble, back when it got stolen,” Clark added.
Michel nodded. “Yes. And I was still affected by it when I heard you say that at least I had you...”
They lapsed into silence for a moment.
“I'm glad you came back,” Clark said quietly.
“Me too,” Michel admitted.
Clark took another sip of coffee. Somewhere, off in the distance, a dog barked.
“Perhaps the Kryptonite is some kind of conduit,” Michel said after a while. “Perhaps whatever causes it to suppress our powers also has the effect of allowing us to—”
“I also heard you today,” Clark interrupted. “when you thought Lois and I had gotten married.”
Michel's mouth snapped shut. “I don't suppose you have come across any Kryptonite, lately?” he asked after a moment.
Clark shook his head. “No. Have you?”
“No.” Michel crossed his arms and leaned back against the bench. “So, that is not the pattern.”
“Maybe there is no pattern,” Clark suggested with a shrug.
“There is,” Michel insisted. He reached for his coffee, took a sip, and made a face.
“Cold?” Clark asked.
Michel nodded. He started to set the coffee down again then froze, holding the cup suspended a few inches over the seat of the bench.
“Michel?”
He stayed that way for a long moment, frowning. Just when Clark was about to ask if he was all right, Michel reached up and removed his glasses. He brought the cup to his face, staring into its depths.
Clark waited.
Michel set the cup down again, his shoulders slumping.
“Whenever I had trouble starting it, it would help if I let myself get angry,” Clark offered, remembering his teen years. “It kind of gives it a push.”
Michel glanced at him, nodded, then picked up the cup again. He fixed it with a firm glare. Clark watched as his eyes slowly began to take on a reddish hue. The glare intensified...
The words “BECAUSE IT'S DANGEROUS AND BECAUSE I SAID SO!” blared through Clark's mind as if they'd been shouted through a bull-horn, making him drop his own coffee as his hands instinctively flew up to protect his ears. The paper cup in Michel's hand belched a cloud of smoke and burst into flames. Michel stared at the ashes in his palm, his jaw slack.
Clark put a hand on Michel's shoulder. “I think you need practice.”
TBC...
