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Wrong Place, Wrong Time, Wrong Clark TOC can be found Here

Where we left off in Part 48 …

“Jerome, I didn’t realize you had a wife,” Jonathan said, turning to Clark. “Congratulations.”

“Oh?” Lois said, turning to Clark. “You know each other?”

He gave her his best sheepish smile. “I am from Smallville, remember?”

Yeah, right. She wasn’t placing money on that bet.

Martha grabbed the handles of her husband’s wheelchair and jerked him towards the kitchen. “I’m sure these two are hungry after their long trip from Metropolis. Jonathan, why don’t you help me?”

As soon as the Kents were in the other room, Lois stuck her finger in her partner’s face, hissing. “I knew you were lying to me. I just knew it. You better start explaining who ‘Jerome’ is, buster.”

“Later, not now,” he begged with a glance back towards the kitchen.

Lois put her hands on her hips and waited with a scowl.

Clark caved, and taking her arm led her to the couch, where they sat down. “Remember how you once asked me what the ‘J’ for my middle name stood for?” he whispered.

She pressed her lips together. “I’m beginning to think ‘Jester’ fit pretty well, or maybe ‘Jerk’,” she said, pulling away from him. Jerome? Ha!

He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “No matter what you call me, it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“Lucky you,” she said, jerking her hand away. “I, myself, don’t like being lied to. Is anything I know about you real?”

He winced. “Everything about me is real, Lois.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she retorted.

“Could you just play along until I can explain in private?” he asked.

“I’m playing. Just because we’re ‘married’ doesn’t mean we’re happily so,” Lois countered. “Take my parents, for example, married for years while loathing each other.”

Clark groaned and rubbed his brow.

Was she giving him a headache? Good! The feeling was mutual.

***

Part 49

The Kents soon called the Lanes into the kitchen.

Clark couldn’t decide which would be worse: being alone with a fiery mad Lois or trying to make it through a meal with his new lie still intact.

He hadn’t known what to do when Lois started to introduce him. He certainly didn’t want the Kents to know that he was using their names as his own. So instead he opened his mouth and created a lie so horrendously bad, he was amazed nobody besides Lois had called him on it. The Kents weren’t gullible folks, and they certainly weren’t stupid country hicks, whatever that might be. They had to know that it was impossible for him to be helping them out on the farm several times a week, if he lived in Metropolis, but he couldn’t think of a better reason, on the spot, for him to arrive with Lois than for him to be her husband.

He saw that the table wasn’t set for supper, as he originally thought, but just a snack.

“We’ve already eaten,” Jonathan explained.

As Clark and Lois sat down at the supper table to what looked and smelled to be the best roast chicken sandwiches he had ever eaten, he realized what he should have done. He should have changed out his business suit and into his ‘Jerome’ jeans and flannel shirt and claimed Lois had picked him up hitchhiking from Lawrence. He really was horrible at lying. It was one of the reasons Superman had ‘truth’ in his credo.

His mom had always frowned at liars and lying from Clark was the worst sin of them all.

Clark remembered once when he and Walt were about eight or nine, because Thomas had only been about three or four, and the three of them had gone to Rocky Cove despite the warnings from Mrs. Irig and Mrs. Kent not to take little Tommy Irig down there, because he couldn’t swim.

Okay, technically, he and Walt had gone fishing, and Tommy had followed them. When Tommy had fallen in, Walt had only laughed at his brother. Clark had gone in to pull the youngster out. Walt had insisted that they wait until they were dry before taking Tommy home, so Mrs. Irig wouldn’t find out.

Clark hadn’t wanted to get punished either, but Tommy’s crying had soon gotten to him and he insisted they start back, wet or not. Walt had said it would be the end of their friendship if Clark said anything, ‘cause he couldn’t be friends with tattlers. Clark had tried to convince Walt to explain what happened to their folks. It had been an accident and not their fault. They hadn’t known that Tommy had followed them to the creek.

By the time they had gotten to the Irig’s though, Tommy was still damp when Mrs. Irig had hugged him, so Walt had told her that Tommy had wet his pants, which was why they had come back early. Walt had then looked to Clark to dare and correct him. Tommy had burst into tears again, and Walt called him a crybaby.

Clark excused himself to go home. Not wanting to get Walt in trouble, and lose his only real playmate for miles around, Clark had corroborated Walt’s 'Tommy wet his pants' story, and Tommy had – from a certain point of view. Tommy had wet them when he had fallen into the creek.

Martha Kent crossed her arms and said, “Clark Jerome Kent, you wouldn’t ever lie to me, would you?” Then she waited as the guilt of his words settle in on him.

Clark hadn’t known that his mom knew the truth. Before he had made it home, Mrs. Irig had gotten the truth out of Tommy and called Mrs. Kent. Clark was already getting fast in those days, but clearly he was still slower than a telephone line. After five minutes of sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, he confessed the truth in tears.

“How do you think Tommy felt? First being scared about falling into the creek, and secondly, that you boys told everyone that he wet himself?” Clark’s mom had asked him.

Clark had felt lower than slime. His mother made him go back over to the Irig’s house and apologize to Tommy and to Mrs. Irig for lying to her. Then for the next week, he had double chores on the farm, and no playtime privileges with Walt, not that that part really mattered. True to his word, Walt had cut off their friendship and refused to have anything to do with ‘the tattletale’ ever again.

The only exception his folks ever made to the no lying rule, was not telling anyone, at any time, for any reason, Clark’s secret. His folks explained that that wasn’t really lying, but withholding information for his protection.

Clark took a bite of his sandwich and smiled at Martha Kent. “This is delicious. Thank you.” He sometimes had to concentrate to remember that this wasn’t a dream, and she wasn’t his real mom.

“How far is the Irig farm from here? Is it close enough to walk? We should probably go over there tonight and see what we can find out. There aren’t mosquitoes, are there? Because I didn’t bring any repellent. This may be a whole big misunderstanding, which it often is, or something we can handle on our own. I’d hate to bother Superman if it’s something we can do without him. Of course, calling the Man of Steel would be a last resort, because Ch…. Jerome and I do this sort of thing all the time. No problem,” Lois said, between bites of her sandwich. “Oh, my, Mrs. Kent, this is wonderful.”

“Please, Lois, call me Martha,” Martha said with a smile, and then turned to look at Clark with a perplexed expression on her face.

“Yeah, she’s kind of intense. That’s what I love about my little blueberry muffin,” Clark said, shooting a grin at Lois.

She slugged him. “Don’t call me that, Pinocchio.”

Clark flushed and watched as Martha and Jonathan exchanged a conversation with one look. They didn’t think much of his and Lois’s sham marriage. Terrific. So much for all the hard work he had put in trying to impress these people; he erased it all in less than ten minutes. “We’re still working on nicknames,” he mumbled, deciding it was a good time to concentrate on his food and leave Lois to what she did best, the talking, before he dug his hole even deeper.

“Why don’t you tell me again what you told me over the phone, so we can catch Jerome, here, up,” suggested Lois.

“Where’s Thomas?” Clark asked, forgetting to keep his mouth shut. “He should really be here for this.”

“Who?” Lois asked.

“Wayne Irig’s son,” Clark replied, taking a sip of the fresh milk. It was almost like being home again, except for the lying, and tension, and Mr. Irig taken hostage, and Lois stomping on his foot under the table, and all.

“Right,” Lois said with a nod.

“When he heard the car he ran out the back door, claiming to go check on the animals. He’s still a little skittish since last night,” Jonathan said. “Maybe after you finish, you and Martha can go take a look for him in the barn, while I get Lois here to help me clear up.”

“Clean up?” Lois sputtered, and then shot a glare at Clark. “No, no. That sounds more like a chore for you? I can go out to the barn with Martha.”

“Thomas doesn’t know you, Lois. He’s already spooked by those EPA guys at his farm; it’s best if Jerome goes,” Martha said, patting Lois’s hand and standing up. “I’ll have Jerome help me set up your bedroom once we return. Thomas will be relieved to hear that you’ll be sharing a room, so he won’t have to sleep on the couch.”

Clark jumped to his feet. He stuffed the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth and downed the rest of his milk before his girlfriend’s tongue lashing could begin. He also set his plate in the sink, giving Lois less to clear up. “Shall we?” he said to Martha, heading for the back door.

If Martha noticed anything amiss she didn’t mention it as she followed Clark out the back door.

“Jerome,” she said, keeping her voice low when they were half-way to the barn. “There’s something else, something I didn’t mention to Lois on the phone.”

His brow furrowed. “What?”

Martha shook her head. “It’s best if I showed you, only…” She pursed her lips. “I don’t know that I should.”

He knew it. He had screwed everything up. “Mrs… Martha, please believe that you can trust me. I know that…”

She placed her hand on his arm and smiled at him. “Jonathan and I do trust you, Jerome. You have been nothing but kindness to us this summer, and we appreciate all the help that you have given us. Well, the truth is, Thomas and Wayne found something,” she said, walking past the barn door to a shed nearby where Jonathan kept his tools. “They didn’t know what it was but Jonathan and I think it might be why those men showed up at the Irigs’.”

Clark was intrigued, both what it could be and why she hadn’t told Lois.

“Martha, why didn’t you just contact Sheriff Harris?” Clark asked. He had heard mention of Sheriff Harris in the small talk among the field hands the Kents had hired to help with harvest, so he knew, like in his dimension, Rachel had become sheriff.

Martha shot him a look he didn’t understand. “This isn’t the type of problem for the Sheriff, Jerome,” she said, opening the tool shed.

Okay. What type of problem was it? “Why did you call Lois about this?”

“I didn’t call her, per se. I actually called looking for…” She hesitated and glanced back at him. “— Superman.”

Clark stopped. “Superman? Why him?” he asked, getting a chill of foreboding down his spine.

He knew the Daily Planet received calls for Superman’s assistance all the time. They had even hired someone to screen the calls, and pass the leads to the right desk. Many of the problems were outside of Superman’s ability to help. Although, he had caught a couple of suicides who had jumped off local bridges after loved ones had phoned in tips. Cases of corporate greed or swindling were funneled to the business or city reporters. Requests for financial assistance were referred to the Superman Foundation or other charitable organizations for review. Medical problems went to the health desk or 9-1-1. Domestic, elder, or child abuse went to the authorities at MPD. Very few actual calls made it to his or Lois’s desk to be investigated, or passed to the man himself, any more.

Martha knelt down by a medium sized metal box. There was a heavy looking tractor part sitting on top of it. “Could you help me?” she asked, pointing at the part. “Thomas thought if we put something on top, it would make the box seem like it had been abandoned in here for a while.”

Clark nodded, approving of the plan of hiding it in plain sight, and easily moved the part to a nearby workbench.

She took a deep breath. “Almost thirty years ago, Jonathan and I saw some smoke in the woods off of Shuster’s Field.”

He couldn’t believe that she was telling him, almost a virtual stranger, this. “A fire?” That was different from the streak in the sky his folks had told him about while heading into town that warm May day. Was she telling him a different secret? One he didn’t know about?

Martha nodded. “A small one, but large enough to catch our attention. After Jonathan and I put it out we discovered…” Here she paused, glancing around.

Clark wasn’t surprised. If this was the story he thought it was, he doubted it was one she told often, if ever. He knew that as a reporter he should have been coaxing her to continue, Lois surely would have been, but since he knew what was surely coming next, he kept his mouth firmly shut.

Finally, she cleared her throat and, speaking more softly, said, “A spaceship. Small and silver and definitely not from Kansas. We think its crash must have started the fire. I opened the hatch and found…” Her eyes closed tight and he could see tears brimming on her lashes before she went on, “ – the most darling baby boy. He had dark hair and couldn’t have been more than three months old.” Her eyes flashed open and over to him. “I’m so sorry, Jerome,” she said, reaching over and touching his sleeve. “He was already dead.” Her bottom lip shook in telling him this, and the tear she had been holding at bay let go of its mooring and fell.

He already knew about this from the brief, very brief, description Herb Wells had given him about what had happened to the Kal-El of this dimension, but to see the woman who would have been his mother still mourning the loss of the child who could have easily been Clark, himself, made it difficult to keep his emotions in check. He placed his hand over hers and squeezed it, unable to speak, unable to find any words. She was describing, essentially, his own death.

“It was such a waste. So young to be so alone,” she said her voice cracking, and Clark couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arm around her petite shoulders in their first ever hug. “So far from home. We had always wished for a child, but not like this, never like this.”

“You would have made the best mom,” Clark whispered, his voice hoarse, as he sniffled back his tears. “He would have loved you more than anything, I promise you that.”

He gasped in anticipation as he realized what must be in the box. The globe. The other Lois had mentioned the one her Clark had with a map of Krypton and a message from Jor-El. How Clark wished he could have found his missing sphere, to hear his birth father’s voice, and his last words to him.

“What?” Martha asked, stepping back.

Clark shook his head as if his discovery was unimportant. “May I ask why you’re telling me all this?” he asked.

She raised a hand to his cheek and brush her thumb across it. “For the same reason you believe me and don’t think I’m crazy; you already knew.”

He took a step back, his eyes wide. “How… How… I don’t know what… I didn’t know, I swear,” he stammered, clearly unconvincingly from her expression.

“Right,” she said with a wink. “That’s why you visit us and help us out all the time, and why you work at the Daily Planet and hail from Smallville, despite never having set foot here or on our property until this past spring. I didn’t call Lois this morning; I called you, Clark.” She knelt back down by the box, unfastening the latches. “And I’m guessing you know what this is, and why those men are looking for it.” She lifted up the lid and instead of seeing a round sphere, and he saw a large spiky green glowing meteorite. One he hoped never to see again.

Clark stumbled backwards, the pain more excruciating than he remembered.

Martha was mesmerized by the glowing rock; unknowing, he hoped, of its effects upon him. “We found a similar chunk, much smaller, in the spaceship, with the baby.”

He tripped over a hay bale banged his head on the wall of the shed and everything went black.

***

Lois couldn’t believe Clark. First, he lied to her, majorly lied to her, and then he stuck her with the dishes. And worst of all – okay, not worse than lying to her, but close to it – he expected them to share a bed like a husband and wife. No way, no sir. He was going to be sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future. Thank you very much.

Hell, she didn’t know if he was really from Smallville! True, these people knew him. If he was really ‘Jerome Whoever’ why had he adopted the name of Clark Kent in Metropolis? Who was the real ‘Clark Kent’? Where was he? Or had Jerome taken over being Clark before going to college? No. They required class transcripts and high school grades before entering university. She would have to put in another call to Midwest.

“Um… Lois?” Jonathan Kent said hesitantly from beside her, holding out another plate. “I believe that one’s dry.”

She jumped, having forgotten he was there. The plate she was drying almost slipped out of her hand. “Oh, sorry. Where does this go?”

“Just set it on the counter, and I’ll put it away,” he recommended. “I appreciate the help. I know it’s a bit different here on the farm, but everyone does their share.”

She understood that. She hadn’t expected to descend like royalty from the city. Actually, come to think of it, she hadn’t given the Kents themselves a second thought outside of how Clark fit into their lives. Now, she saw them as a potential source of information. “Sorry,” she apologized again to soothe the way. “After traveling all afternoon and evening, I’m chomping on the bit to get started. These delays are frustrating.”

Jonathan smiled. “Everyone has to eat. On the farm, the animals get fed and watered before the rest of us. I suppose, we do it that way to encourage ourselves to get it done more quickly, because after dinner the last thing anyone wants to do is more chores. Cows need to be milked both morning and night, and eggs gathered before breakfast. There’s a pattern and routine to everything we do around here.”

Lois looked at him in confusion. What did her wanting to get over to the Irig farm to check things out have to do with cows and chickens?

“If you rush, eggs could get broken and the cow wouldn’t be milked properly and would start giving less milk,” he explained.

Lois flung her hand with the towel towards the back door. “But your friend has been held hostage since yesterday. He’d probably appreciate a little rushing,” she countered.

“Wayne was held hostage for seven months by the North Koreans. Trust me when I say he would prefer a well thought-out rescue plan better than anyone one of you risking your life for his.”

“How long have you known Jerome?” Lois asked, finally able to get in her question.

“A while,” Jonathan said vaguely, concentrating on dishes again. “He’s been a God-send to us since my accident.”

“Thomas! Jonathan!” they heard Martha call from outside suddenly. “Thomas!”

Lois hurried out of the back door with Jonathan on her heels. By the time she was half way across the yard in the darkness she saw Martha and another man half dragging Clark towards them.

Lois gasped at seeing her partner like that, and had to swallow back his name so she wouldn’t call out to him. “What did you do to him?” she accused.

“He tripped and fell, hitting his head on the wall,” Martha explained as Lois reached them, and took over for the older woman.

Chuck was heavier than she expected. Maybe that weight on his driver’s license was accurate. He felt hot and a bit sweaty as Lois draped his arm over her shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Clark insisted, though he was clearly still wobbly on his feet.

Martha went straight to her husband on the porch. He clasped her hand in his, and then with a nod, she continued on to the backdoor to hold it open.

“Jerome, man, what happened to you?” the younger man asked. He reminded Lois a bit like Jimmy, if either of the Jimmys were taller and darker than Clark and lanky to boot.

“My head,” Clark groaned, as they sat him down at the kitchen table.

Lois set her hand on Clark’s head. “You’re burning up,” she said. “Martha, do you have a thermometer?”

Martha nodded.

Clark reached back to stop her, shaking his head. “I’m fine, really. I run hot.”

Martha nodded again, this time understanding something Lois didn’t and went to retrieve the pitcher of water Lois and Jonathan hadn’t gotten around to washing. Had Clark really fallen down or had something else happened to him?

Lois went to examine the back of his head. “Should we call a doctor? Or take him to the emergency room? He might have a concussion,” she suggested.

“Closest E.R. is at the clinic in Lawrence forty-five minutes away. It closes at ten p.m.,” Jonathan told her.

Clark indeed had remnants of dust and hay in his hair as evoked by a fall, but she didn’t trust these farm folk; they seemed to be hiding something.

“Just give me a minute, Lois. I just need to catch my breath. I’ll be fine,” Clark reassured her.

“Allergies,” Jonathan said. “— can be awful this time of year.”

Bull-hockey! This wasn’t allergies.

But Clark smiled with a slight chuckle at this explanation. “Yeah, allergies. That would explain it,” he said, trying to pour the water into a glass. He was unable to lift the pitcher.

Lois saw Martha and Jonathan exchange a look. Clark’s weakness worried them too.

“Here, let me,” Lois said, handing Clark the glass of water, but he was staring at his hands with a shake of his head. She wanted to be furious at him. Correction: she was furious at him. She wanted to yell and scream at the lunkhead for lying to her and for telling everyone that they were married, but instead she set her hand on his shoulder. Her ire could wait until they were alone.

Clark moved his hand to hers and squeezed it. Was he trying to reassure her or himself?

“Hi. I’m Thomas,” the lanky young man said, holding out his hand to Lois. “You must be the Kents’ secret weapon.”

Lois glanced over at Martha, but before she could introduce herself, the older woman interjected.

“I never said any such thing, Thomas. Your wild imagination.”

“Lois Lane, Daily Planet,” Lois said, shaking the man’s hand.

“Lois is my wife,” Clark said weakly, reminding everyone of his awkward lie she doubted any of them had believed the first time. They didn’t believe it any more so this time, well, at least the Kents didn’t.

“Jerome, man! You sneaky dog, you. You never said a word about being married to such a…” Thomas said clasping Clark on the shoulder, and then caught Lois’s expression of building irritation. “— beautiful woman.”

“Estranged wife,” Lois corrected, and saw the Kents exchange another knowing look. “You lied to me, Jerome Lane. I’ve promised to help you out with your friends, here, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you, or that we’re back to where we were when you proposed.”

Clark stared at her in horrified disbelief. She rolled her eyes. Like people don’t make scenes in the country.

“Actually, Lois, you proposed to me…” he teased feebly, going for the joke to try and break the tension. It didn’t work.

“Biggest mistake of my life,” she replied, patting his cheek. “You’re still sleeping on the couch, Jerome. Thomas, if you could show me to my room.” She stomped from the kitchen, but not without missing Clark burying his face in his hands. That was right, Chuck. She was changing their cover story.

*

“I’m so sorry,” Clark murmured to the Kents, uncertain of how they felt about their surely now unwelcome houseguests. “I don’t think I could have planned a worse introduction.”

Martha set her hand on his as she slid into the seat next to him. “Want to tell us about the rock?” she asked.

“What happened?” Jonathan said, pulling in on his other side.

“Kryptonite, that’s what happened,” Clark said, with heavy sigh. “It’s the one thing in the world that can hurt me and cause me physical pain. Well…” He hesitated and with a pained smile, glanced out the doorway his ‘estranged wife’ had just departed through. “— the only thing besides Lois. It takes away my abilities and my invulnerability. It causes my head to hurt, makes me sick to my stomach, and drains all my energy, all my life-force.” Kind of like Lois.

Martha gasped, a hand to her mouth. “No!”

Jonathan reached across the table to her. “We didn’t know.”

Clark’s brow furrowed and then the faintest memory returned to him. “Did you say you found a piece with the baby, with Kal-El, inside the ship?”

Martha glanced up from her hands, tears streaming down her face. “Kal-El? That was his name?”

Clark nodded. He preferred the name Clark though, he wanted to add, but didn’t.

“Who was he?” she asked.

“The sole survivor from a dying civilization, a dying planet,” Clark replied.

“Almost sole survivor,” Jonathan corrected, clasping his hand on Clark’s shoulder. “You also survived.”

“Right,” Clark said. “Me.” The other Kal-El from another dimension. “I don’t understand how there could have been Kryptonite inside his ship though; it doesn’t make sense.”

“Why not?” Martha asked.

“Because it’s… it’s…” He shook his head. Could Herb Wells and that other Lois have been wrong? “I’ve been told it was radioactive fragments from my dying planet, which exploded only minutes after the ship was launched. That’s why it’s poison to me, but not to you.” He shrugged, not knowing the right answer. “The only way to protect me is to surround it with lead. That box you have it in must be lead lined,” he said, more to himself than to them as he thought through why he must’ve not felt its harmful rays upon entering the tool shed.

“Do you think that’s what killed him?” Jonathan inquired, his voice rough.

“I don’t know. I was told he died before…” Clark cleared his throat. “— before he could be rescued, but now…” His voice faded as he shook his head. “You said there was a fire?”

“That caught your attention earlier in the shed, too, why?”

“There wasn’t a fire when I landed,” he replied simply.

“We were just heading home from town; it was about dusk, wasn’t it?” Jonathan said, nodding to his wife. She returned his nod. They both turned to look at Clark.

“Dusk?” Clark asked, his brow furrowed in thought. That was different from what his folks had told him too. They had said that they had seen the streak in the sky in the afternoon as they headed into town.

Herb had said that Tempus had tried to kill the Clark of their dimension as an infant. That the ship had crashed in the afternoon. Tempus had found it, carried baby Kal-El to Rocky Cove, and covered the infant with Kryptonite. Lois, and the barely existing older Clark, had defeated Tempus, and saved baby Kal-El. Then Clark had taken the infant and flown him back to the ship, which was the streak in the sky that had caught Kents’ attention and drawn them towards the ship. Could someone else been tempted, as Tempus had been, to try and kill this Kal-El in the past, but this time had actually succeeded?

His head began to throb again from the ramifications of this possibility. He pushed the thought out of his mind to consider another time, when he was alone, and not suffering from Kryptonite poisoning. It wasn’t like there was anything he could do to save that baby Kal-El, anyway, was there?

“Is there something wrong?” Jonathan asked.

“My ship landed in the afternoon,” Clark said, trying to pick up the glass of water that Lois had poured for him, but he barely got it to his lips before his hand began to shake.

Martha placed her hand under the glass to steady it, so he could drink.

“Thanks,” he said, setting it back down.

“You’ve been exposed to this Kryo-rock thing before?” Jonathan asked.

“Once before,” Clark replied. “It almost killed me.” He chuckled. “Of course, that might have had something to do with swallowing the bomb shortly after being exposed.”

“You swallowed a bomb?” Jonathan sputtered.

Clark shrugged. “I wouldn’t recommend it. I had horrible gas for a week afterward.” He chuckled forlornly. That had been a dreadful week, between bridezilla Lana, wedding plans, meeting Lois and Herb Wells, learning about other dimensions, becoming Superman, losing Lana, meeting Tempus, being outed as an alien, and losing Lois. He sighed. “And no powers.”

“You lost your abilities for a week?” Martha repeated, her eyes widening.

“Just a couple days, actually. I got my first-ever cut, several cuts actually, because I had to shave with a razor instead of heat vision,” Clark admitted, shaking his head. He couldn’t go out in public as an unshaven Superman, and his dimension had needed to meet their new hero. Really, horrible, dreadful week. He thought back to the piece of Kryptonite that Tempus had brought to the mayoral debate in his dimension. “It was a much smaller sample though. I don’t know if that will make any difference.”

Jonathan patted him on the shoulder. “I’ve got a few spare razors, and I can give you a few pointers, if you like.”

Clark blinked away the tears that started to well in his eyes. The thought of Jonathan teaching him how to shave brought back many of the nightmares and frustrations he had during his initial exposure to the experience, and how he had wished his dad had been alive to help him out and give him advice. He choked on his emotions, and said hoarsely, “I’d appreciate that, thanks.”

They heard a sound in the hall, and Clark wiped his eyes a moment before Lois walked in, wearing navy-colored jeans, sneakers, and a dark t-shirt. She had her briefcase slung over her shoulder in typical Lois style.

“Thomas is going to take me over to his place, so we can check it out, and I can get the lay of the land. You going to be okay here?”

Clark stood up, shaking his head. “I’m coming with you.”

Lois shot him a skeptical look. “You’re sick. Stay here and rest. We’ll be fine.”

“You’re not going without me,” he said, moving towards her. “Anyway, I won’t be able to rest if you leave me here, so I might as well come.”

“Geez, Chuck, you’re getting as over-protective as Superman. I’ll be with Thomas. I’ll be fine,” she said, her hands on her hips.

“Chuck?” Jonathan asked.

Lois’s eyes widened as she must have realized her faux pas.

“The last time we went undercover together, my alias was ‘Charles’,” Clark explained with a scratch to his head. “The nickname ‘Chuck’ kind of stuck.”

Lois took him by the shoulders and moved him back to the chair he just left. “Martha, keep him here.” She pointed a finger at him. “When we get back I expect to find you lying on the couch, teeth brushed, and ready for me to tuck you in.”

“What am I? Five?” he retorted, trying to stand. “I’m coming with you.”

She pushed him back down. “Six, as of last year. Sit.”

“Okay, I’ll stay. I’m sure the Kents would love to hear the story of what happened to you at the Metro Club,” Clark retorted.

Lois’s glare narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Clark stared back with a ‘try me’ expression.

“Fine. You can come, but if you pass out, we’re leaving you where you fall until morning, because we’re not dragging your butt back here,” she growled, and marched out of the room.

He grinned at the Kents. “How I love that woman.”

***End of Part 49***

Part 50

Well, now he knows that the Kents know. Now what? Make your comments known, Here