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

Part 58

Part 59

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Foundling
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Clark was having a wonderful dream. Lois’s hands were caressing his chest. Her lips pressed against his, and she moaned his name. Her hand trailed down his chest, lower and lower and…

“Kal-El,” a deep voice called out to him.

“Not now, Dad, please. Not now,” groaned Clark, and he returned the focus of his attention to Lois.

Only now she was laughing.

“You? You’re Superman?” Her laughter turned sharp and biting. “Clark, come on. You’ve got to be kidding. You’re no Superman.”

“Kal-El,” the deep voice repeated.

“Lois,” Clark called to her, reaching out to her, but it was as if they were being pulled apart, and he couldn’t reach her, no matter how hard he tried.

“Clark!” her echo-y voice faded as the rest of her disappeared into a bright white light.

“Lois!” Clark gasped, jerking himself awake. He was lying on the couch, still dressed in his clothes. He must have fallen asleep while Lois was writing the story. Ooops. He hoped she wasn’t too angry, although knowing Lois, she probably was. He’d tell her to take the sole byline. He was too close to this story anyway.

He took a deep breath and leaned back against the cushions, wondering if there was a meaning to his strange dream. He felt the call of nature and padded off to the downstairs bathroom.

As he emerged, he once again felt, more than heard, that deep voice calling to him. “Kal-El.”

Clark saw a bright white light coming from under the Kents’ bedroom door. Normally, he wouldn’t have intruded, but it was too eerily similar to his dream. He knocked softly and opened the door a crack.

“Martha? Jonathan?” he whispered, loud enough for them to hear him if they were awake, but not loud enough to wake them if they were asleep.

“Come in, Jerome,” answered Jonathan.

Clark pushed the door open to find Jonathan sitting up in bed, the color in his face washed out in the bright white light that Clark had noticed under the door. Clark turned to find the source of the light and saw a sphere, glowing from its location on a high shelf. He reached out and touched the sphere, drawn to it, wondering at its beauty and power. At his touch, the sphere momentarily engulfed the room in light and then faded. As the sphere dimmed he saw the green continents of Earth shift into the red continents of…

“Krypton,” he murmured.

This was the globe that the other Lois had told him about. Trask and Bureau 39 hadn’t found it, because the Kents hadn’t left it with the spaceship. They had kept it safe with them.

Clark let go of the globe and glanced back to Jonathan, not knowing how to ask the question burning inside of him. As soon as Clark’s fingers stopped touching it though, an image or hologram of a white-haired man in a white tunic, emblazoned with a white silvery version of his family’s crest on his chest, appeared.

“My name is Jor-El, and you are Kal-El, my son,” the image said to him.

Clark’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t been expecting this. He knew that the globe contained a message, but he hadn’t known that this dimension’s globe would speak to him.

“The object you now possess has been attuned to you. That you now hear these words is proof that you survived the journey in space and have reached your full maturity,” Jor-El continued.

Clark winced. This Jor-El’s son had not survived the trip. He had not reached full or any maturity. It had somehow attuned to him, even though he wasn’t this Jor-El’s son.

“Now it is time to learn your heritage. To that end, I will appear to you five times. Watch for the light. Listen and learn.”

The globe pulled Jor-El's image back inside and a new image of him appeared. In this one, Jor-El was working in a laboratory. He started speaking again, but as a voiceover to these new images.

“Time grows short, and we continue to search. The immensity of space is both a blessing and a curse. In that mere infinite variety there must be some place suitable. Hope and desperation drive us in equal measure. Lara works by my side.”

A woman with long pale red hair joined Jor-El while he worked in his lab. She was Kal-El’s mother Lara. Jor-El and Lara were his parents, his birth parents. They were who sent him here to Earth to survive the destruction of Krypton.

“She’s tireless and endlessly patient, considering what is to come. This is my greatest consolation. That we are together.”

As the images faded, Clark sat down on the end of the Kents’ bed. His mind swirling with questions and awe.

Most of the message he had learned from that other Lois that day in the conference room of the Daily Planet, when she and Herb had told him about the other dimensions. Still, it wasn’t the same as hearing the voice of his father, and experiencing the images, first hand.

“Jerome?” Jonathan’s soft voice said after a minute.

“Or should we call you ‘Kal-El’?” Martha’s unexpected voice suggested.

***

Martha buzzed around the kitchen, fixing coffee and warming up the apple pie she had made the day before. She needed to keep busy. She was afraid of what conclusions, wrong or otherwise, her mind might come to if she was idle. The preparations complete, she had nothing else to do but sit down next to Jonathan at the kitchen table. She took his hand as they waited for Jerome to speak.

Jerome looked like he didn’t know exactly what to say. He still appeared as stunned by the message of the globe, which they had kept from spacecraft where they had found the little baby boy all those years ago, as she and Jonathan were, if not more so.

After a few more minutes, Martha couldn’t stand the waiting any longer. She needed to do something. Standing up, she poured them each a mug of coffee and sat back down. Jerome stared at the mug, warming his hands but still didn’t say a word.

Finally, she spoke, “How?” She knew it wasn’t very clear, but didn’t know how else to ask. “Are you…?”

Jerome cleared his throat and shook his head. “Yes… and no,” he replied. “Yes, Kal-El is the boy you found in Shuster’s field all those years ago. Yes, I am also Kal-El…”

Martha gasped, raising her hand to her mouth. How could that be?

“But I’m not your Kal-El,” he continued sadly.

“Can you explain that?” Jonathan asked. His brain must be functioning better than Martha’s because though she had wanted to ask the same question, the words would not form.

“I am who that Kal-El, your son, could have been, had he been able to survive that day he arrived here on Earth,” Jerome explained, lifting his coffee up to his lips and taking a sip. “I am Kal-El, but I am from another time and another dimension, a parallel universe.”

Another what?

“And in your dimension did we find you and make you our own?” Jonathan asked, making sense of Jerome’s words better than she had.

Jerome nodded. “The Martha and Jonathan Kent of my dimension did find me on the afternoon of May 17, 1966 in Shuster’s field, after seeing what appeared to be a meteor shoot across the sky on the way into town. They adopted me and raised me as their own under the name of Clark Jerome Kent. Clark after my mother’s…”

“Maiden name,” whispered Martha.

He nodded.

“Kent after my father’s surname, and Jerome after the uncle who raised my father after his father, my grandfather, had died in the battle of Omaha during World War II,” Jerome went on.

Jonathan sputtered, choking on his coffee. “My father died on Normandy Beach?”

Martha rubbed between Jonathan’s shoulders.

Jerome’s brow furrowed, and then he shook his head. “No, Jonathan. My grandpa Kent died in the battle of Omaha, Nebraska during World War II. While your dimension and my dimension share a history for most of time, about a hundred and fifty years ago my universe took a detour from yours, or vice-versa. While we both suffered the effects of the American Civil War, World War I, and World War II, the wars were very different in many respects. During the World War II in my dimension, the Mexicans sided with the Germans and Spanish. The Third Reich set up bases in Mexico and attacked the American mainland with bombs from the German Luftwaffe. Houston, Dallas, Omaha, and Kansas City were some of the cities that suffered much damage and death,” he explained.

Martha’s jaw dropped. Very different indeed. It was something else that he had said that she was curious about. “You’re from another time?”

He nodded. “I traveled back in time to May 1993. When I left home it was March 1997, and I had just celebrated my thirty-first birthday.”

“So, you’ve lost four years?” she confirmed.

A grin slipped upon Jerome’s face. “No, they’re still there. I’m just repeating them.” He chuckled.

“Why?” Martha wondered.

His smiled faded. “Lois.”

“Lois?” Jonathan repeated. He pointed to the ceiling. “Lois Lois?”

“In February 1996, a Lois from yet another dimension was dropped into my universe by an evil, evil man from the future by the name of Tempus,” Jerome said, waving his hand as if doing so would erase the man from existence. “It was love at first sight. Well, first kiss actually. You see, that Lois was engaged to be married to her Clark, so when she saw me, she thought I was him and rushed up and kissed me.” He smiled as if remembering the moment with fondness. “Lana wasn’t happy in the least.”

“Lana?” Martha echoed.

“Lana Lang and I were engaged when I met that Lois,” Jerome said, taking another sip of coffee. “She had been right behind me when that Lois kissed me.”

“Lana Lang? Walt Irig’s old girlfriend? That Lana?” Martha stammered in shock. That woman was a witch with a capital B. She recalled many a conversation with Barbara Irig about how Barbara wished Lana would run off with another boy and break Walt’s heart. She had hoped it would snap some sense into her boy.

Jerome shrugged. “No accounting for taste, I guess. We had been dating almost ten years. She was all I had, or so I thought. I didn’t realize, until I met Lois, how selfless and wonderful love could actually be, because that’s how she loves her Clark.” He reached across the table and set his hand on top their hands. “Don’t get me wrong. My parents shared a relationship as loving and tender and giving as yours, but…” He sniffled.

“They died?” Jonathan said, verbalizing the words Jerome couldn’t.

He nodded, unable to speak. He drew his hand back and picked up his coffee again.

“When?” Martha asked, squeezing her husband’s hand.

“When I was ten. I was fast then, not fast enough though. I saw my dad swerve to miss a doe and her fawn,” he whispered, closing his eyes. A tear dripped down his face. “The truck hit the big oak tree where Lois crashed that truck this… yesterday afternoon.” He wiped his eyes. “They didn’t survive.”

Martha leaned forward and took his hand again. “Oh, Jerome. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was a long time…” he said as his voice broke, and his eyes closed again. “I miss them so much.” He started to weap.

She jumped out of her chair and wrapped her arms around him, holding him to her.

It took a long time for Jerome to process the pain and loss of his parents. Eventually, he leaned back and dried his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Martha knelt down beside him. “Never be sorry for loving and missing your folks, Jerome. They’re who made you who you are today.”

“Yes and no. It was Lois, that other Lois, who made me Superman. Her Clark had wanted to use his abilities to help the people in his dimension. He created the Superman persona so that he could both help and still have a personal life as Clark Kent, average Joe reporter,” he explained. “But, it’s true, that my folks helped shaped me into a man who would want to follow in that other Clark’s footsteps. Actually, I met his folks, when I went to help his dimension after Tempus pushed him through a time window, losing him temporarily in time. They are very nice people. You remind me of them.” He smiled weakly at them.

It was amazing that this man hadn’t gone insane, jumping from dimension to dimension, meeting different versions of himself and his loved ones. It was a show of his strength and resolve that he had made it this far.

“Honey, why are you here?” Martha finally asked, moving back to her chair. “I mean, we’re thankful you came here, but why? Why did you come here to our universe?”

“Lois. Your dimension has one. Mine doesn’t,” he said simply.

Martha and Jonathan exchanged a glance.

“Shortly after, hours actually, Superman started helping people, my secret identity was revealed to the world on television. Lana left me,” he said with a slight roll of his eyes. “No big surprise there. It didn’t really matter to me, because I had fallen in love with that Lois from the other dimension. As I said, it was love at first sight – for me, at least, but that Lois already has a Clark, her Clark. She’s married to him, and they’re living their happily-ever-after now.” His brow furrowed. “Or actually in four years from now.” He shrugged.

“Your dimension doesn’t have a Lois?” Martha asked.

“The Lois from my dimension died before I ever came to Metropolis,” Jerome said, lowering his gaze to his coffee. “Saving her and bringing her forward in time would’ve created more problems than solved them. Even if we did happen to hit it off, which as you can see isn’t guaranteed, we could never really have a true relationship. Because everyone there knows that Clark Kent is Superman, I no longer have a personal life. I’m Superman forty-eight hours a day, ten days a week. I lost my job at the Daily Planet because nobody wanted me to interview them anymore. No one wanted me to cover their press conferences, because I was more interesting than whatever spiel the politicians wanted to dump on the press. Moreover, my super duties were pulling me away from my reporting duties.” He sighed. “Here, I can have a real life, and help as well.”

“That’s what you meant, when you told Trask that you lived through everyone knowing once, you could live through it again?” asked Jonathan.

Jerome nodded. “A part of me is relieved that I don’t though or that Lois didn’t believe…” He closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands.

Martha set her hand on his arm. “What doesn’t Lois believe?”

“That I’m Superman. ‘You’re worlds apart,’ she said,” he scoffed. “Apparently, believing that Clark Kent is Superman would ruin her image of the man she loves.”

Martha glanced back at her husband, wondering if he knew what Jerome meant. Jonathan shrugged.

“You see, she’s in love with Superman,” Jerome explained.

Jonathan leaned forward. “But, son, aren’t you…?”

“Well, yes,” Clark said with a soft mournful chuckle. “But she doesn’t know, or accept, that. I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to tell her, only to have something stop me. Now, it seems, it doesn’t matter. She’ll never accept and love me, for me.”

Martha heard his stomach rumble and remembered the pie she had placed in the oven to warm. She got up and took it out. “You don’t know that,” she reassured him. “Give her time, Jerome. You've only known each other a few months. I rejected Jonathan’s marriage proposal four times before we ever made it…”

“Twice,” Jonathan corrected.

She shot Jonathan a glare and a raised eyebrow. “Four times before I accepted. I knew that I loved… that I love him, but I didn’t know if it was a lifetime kind of love.” She leaned over and kissed her husband. “I’m glad I didn’t rush the decision.”

Martha turned back to the stove. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw her husband raise two fingers and mouthed the words “twice” to Jerome. She smiled. It had been four times, but she wasn’t going to prolong the argument. She’d let him save face in front of Jerome. She knew she was right, and that was what mattered.

Martha plated out three slices of pie and set them on the table, and then she topped off their coffee.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” admitted Jerome. “Before we came out to Smallville, I felt my relationship with Lois was starting to go somewhere, now…” He shook his head and took a sip of his coffee.

Martha sat down and set her hand on his. “I’m sorry, Jerome. We didn’t mean to complicate things for you.”

Jerome squeezed her hand and let go. “Please, don’t apologize. I’m glad you felt comfortable enough with me to call me when you had nowhere else to turn.” He gave them a small smile.

“Of course,” Jonathan said, digging into his pie. “That’s what family is for, you know, helping each other out.”

Jerome’s hesitant smile turned bright and hopeful, and then faded. “I wish I had a magic elixir that could help me with Lois. I told Lois the truth and she still doesn’t believe me. I’m at a loss at what I should do next.”

“Why should she believe you?” Martha said truthfully, nudging the untouched plate of pie closer to Jerome. She knew he was hungry. Why wasn’t he eating? “You have done nothing but lie to her. How is she supposed to know what’s manure and what’s not?” She felt bad that she had stated Lois’s side so baldly as she watched Jerome’s face fall.

“Family is also where you come for straight talk, no matter how much you don’t want to hear it. No candy coating here,” Jonathan said with a teasing chuckle. “No, sirree, Bob.”

Martha swatted him with the back of her hand. “Jonathan!”

“I could use it,” Jerome admitted. “Any advice on what I should tell Lois?”

“You could try telling her the truth, again. You are Clark Jerome Kent,” Martha suggested.

“I tried that. She doesn’t believe me. How can I be Clark Kent of Smallville, Kansas if no one in Smallville knows me as that?” he said with a sigh. “I don’t blame her for not trusting me.”

“How about when your folks died, you came to Smallville from Italy to seek out your grandfather, my uncle, Jerome’s side of the family, not having any family of your own left? Not knowing if we’d accept you, you pretended to be a drifter named Jerome, but unbeknownst to you we had figured out the truth?”

Martha couldn’t believe her usually honest husband. “Jonathan!” she scolded. “As I said before telling Lois that will not help matters any.”

Her husband innocently took a sip of his coffee. “But it’s true.” He grinned. “Jerome is an undocumented alien in search of his family and a new life,” he exclaimed. “While at the same time, on the run from authorities who want to put him in jail or worse for being here ‘illegally’.” Jonathan ducked her swat after actually using finger quotes in emphasize his argument. “Not to mention all those bad men who want to kill him for knowing about and trying to stop their criminal activities. That’s why Jerome here hasn’t told her the truth, in fear that the Mob or the INS would come after her to get to him.”

Jerome rested his face on his hand and laughed. “Right, Jonathan,” he said sarcastically. “Like that story wouldn’t get me in more trouble than I’m in now.” He wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes. “While it’s technically accurate in principle, no. That’s not who I am.” He sighed, all traces of humor gone. “That’s not who I want Lois to see me as. No.” He nodded decisively. “It isn’t who I am. I’m not a criminal on the run with the government after me.”

Martha gave Jerome an ‘oh, really’ expression. Hadn’t they spent all afternoon battling one such government agency?

“Well, okay, for the most part it isn’t who I am,” he conceded. “The truth is: I am Clark Kent. That’s who I want to be. That’s who I am. That other stuff really isn’t important.”

Jonathan patted Jerome’s hand and rolled back his chair to head back to their bedroom. “I’ve got something for you,” he said.

“Jerome,” Martha said, she nudged his untouched plate of pie towards him again. “There’s one flaw in your and Jonathan’s logic. How would Lois knowing the truth about you, make her in more danger? Knowing the risks, she’d be able to protect you better and take care to protect herself better. Only the others knowing the truth about you would put her in any danger.”

“It wouldn’t, if Lois were any other woman… er… but Lois… um… I know her.” He cleared his throat, and flushed, probably because of the skeptical expression Martha was giving him. He pulled his apple pie plate in front of him closer, picked up his fork, and took a bite. “I can’t tell her who I am without proof. She wouldn’t believe me. How could she? You’re right, why should she?… No, it wouldn’t work. Let’s say, if I hinted to her about Italy, just to delay the inevitable… She believes in justice with such a passion that she’d start researching into my past, sending out inquiries…”

She watched as his fork came down and scooped up another bite of pie before it disappeared into his mouth with relish.

“— to clear my name, or private Italian citizen, Jerome Kent’s name. She’d find out that Clark didn’t graduate from Smallville High, or any other high school, for that matter. She’d discover that no Clark Kent ever went to MidWest University, let alone graduated with a degree in Journalism.” He stood up, went to the refrigerator, and got out the pitcher of buttermilk. He poured himself a glass and downed it, before continuing. “No matter how careful and discreet she may be in her investigations, something may slip. She may say something to the wrong person, someone she thinks is trustworthy, but isn’t, or ask a question that might lead someone to question who I am, and if that person should tell…” He had sat back down during this long rambled explanation and somehow finished off his pie without pausing, until this moment when his voice came to a sudden halt. Had he realized, as she had, that his reasoning smelled as good as her compost heap? “It’s best if I don’t tell her anything at all.”

“Uh-huh.” Martha lifted up her coffee and took a sip. “So, basically, what you’re saying is: Lois Lane is a genius. If you give her any reason to investigate you, she’ll discover the truth about you. Are you afraid she’ll be disappointed when she learns the truth, and you’ll lose what little respect she has for you? Or are you afraid that once she knows the truth, she’ll be so angry that you’ve deceived her that she’ll never forgive you or, worse yet, make a page one story out of you?”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Er… um…”

“How about this scenario? Lois Lane discovers that you had good reason to keep quiet about your past, and does everything in her power to protect you because she loves you as much as you love her? Or does that seem too far flung into the reaches of science fiction to ever be a possibility?” she said wryly. “You need to give yourself a bit of time to heal. Give her space and some credit. Don’t rush things. Pick your moment and try telling her the truth again.” Martha picked up Jerome’s empty pie plate and carried it over to the sink with her coffee mug and a roll of her eyes that she knew he couldn’t see.

“But she’s still in love with Superman!” he said.

“And why shouldn’t she be? He’s a terrific guy,” she countered. “He’s sweet, and kind, and generous, and helpful, and he thinks of others before he thinks of himself, and he fights for the little guy, who can’t defend himself, and he’s on the side of good. Oh, lo and behold, so are you. If you think she’s shallow enough to be interested in Superman just for his buns of steel, then you don’t deserve her.”

Jonathan rolled out of their bedroom and looked between them. “Son, it’s best you concede the point and just accept Martha is right. It’s what I do.”

Martha swatted him with her dishtowel. “You do not. You bicker with me until the cows come home.”

Her husband grinned. “Cows are already home, Martha,” he replied, and then slid a paper across the table to Jerome. “You might need this.”

Jerome glanced down at the sheet in his hand, his jaw dropping open. He looked at Martha and then at Jonathan and she could see his eyes misting over. He cleared his throat though and pushed the paper back across the table at Jonathan. “No. No, I can’t use this, Jonathan. It wouldn’t be right.”

Martha glanced over Jonathan’s shoulder and saw that he had given Jerome the fake birth certificate that they had asked old Doc. Wilson make up for them. When those strange men had come around after she and Jonathan had found the little baby in the spaceship and buried him, they had decided that they needed some sort of backup, in case those men came back. Martha had wanted to make sure that nobody would come and disturb little Clark’s resting spot. He was their child, and they weren’t going to let anyone take him away, especially anyone so callous as to shoot an infant into the sky.

They had visited Doc Wilson in his home that afternoon after those men came asking questions. He had long since retired, having delivered both Martha and Jonathan when they had come into the world, and no longer made trips outside of town. They told him in confidence about the child they had found the week before. It had been the last time they had spoken to anyone about finding Clark until Lois and Jerome showed up two days ago.

Doc Wilson had told them that he was an old man, who didn’t have long in this world, and he dreamed of delivering one last baby. He pulled out the form from his desk and filled it out, stating that Clark Jerome Kent was a live home birth on February 28, 1966. He put Martha and Jonathan down as Clark’s natural, not adoptive, parents. Then he filled out a death certificate on the infant, stating he had died of unknown reasons in his sleep on May 17, 1966. They thanked him and reassured him that they would never show these papers to anyone, nor record them with the county clerk’s office, but would only use them for their own personal benefit should those strange men return.

After Doc Wilson died a month later, Martha and Jonathan went to Wichita and filed for a Social Security Number under Clark’s name. They never used the number, never claimed Clark on their taxes, and never spoke of him to anyone else ever again. Those men never returned, until this week.

Jonathan pushed the certificate back across the table to Jerome and tossed Clark’s social security card upon it. “Our Clark will never use this birth certificate or this social security card. Should you ever need documentation to prove your identity to anyone, we’d like you to have them, to protect you. It would be our honor to be your family, your official folks, Jerome, for all that you’ve done for us, if you’ll have us.”

Martha could see the tears dotting Clark’s lashes. He was so moved that he seemed unable to speak. Instead he enfolded Jonathan and her into his embrace.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly. “I accept.”

They had a son, a real live out-of-this-world son, who, she was sure, would love them as much as she and Jonathan loved him.

After a minute, one of the best minutes of her life, Jerome pulled back and they laughed as all wiped tears from their cheeks.

“You are the best,” Jerome said, and he pushed the paperwork back across the table to them. “But I cannot take these. It wouldn’t be right.”

“We’ll hold on to them for you,” Jonathan said. “In case you ever change your mind, if you ever need them, you know where to find ‘em.”

Jerome nodded. “I do. Thank you.”

Martha patted their new son’s shoulder. “And you must come out for Thanksgiving. I’m not taking any polite no’s. Bring Lois, too, if you can convince her to come,” she insisted. “It’s tradition to have Thanksgiving with your mama, and Jonathan and I are very traditional.”

Jonathan roared with laughter. “Since when?” He turned to Jerome. “She got into sculpture last year, before my accident. Craziest, modern day stuff you ever did see. It most certainly was not traditional.”

“Jonathan Kent, are you making fun of me?” she snapped.

Her husband paled. “Did I mention it was unique and more beautiful than any other sculpture I had ever seen?”

“That’s better,” she said, winking at Jerome.

He smiled, happy to be in on the joke. He glanced out the kitchen window. “It looks like the sun should be up soon, would you like me to do the chores this morning? I bet you’d like to get some sleep.”

Martha rubbed his arm. “I would, but you need it more. You were the one who was shot yesterday.”

“It was just a graze,” Jerome corrected, standing up. “Let me do this for you after all you’ve done for me.”

“Are you up to it?” Jonathan asked.

Jerome nodded. “One doesn’t have to be Superman to milk a cow or gather eggs. Actually, it’s probably best if one isn’t,” he said.

“You’re most likely right about that,” Jonathan conceded.

Jerome headed to the back door and Martha stopped him. “You’ll want to take Jonathan’s coat, dear. It’s a bit chilly out this morning.”

*

Lois heard the back door shut behind Clark and slowly made her way back upstairs and to her room. The smell of coffee and pie had woken her up early, much earlier than she expected to rise after her late night. As she had come down the stairs, still in her pajamas, she had heard Clark talking with the Kents about… her!... about what the man who called himself Clark should do about their relationship and what he should tell her. She had been curious what they would suggest and say, so she had stopped on the stairs and listened. There still wasn’t anything as thrilling as being a fly on the wall of a closed-door conversation.

What she learned had been eye opening and unexpected.

Firstly, she loved Martha! Lois would give the woman a hug as soon as she was showered and dressed for the day. Her initial feelings for the woman had been spot on. How could Lois have ever suspected such a wonderful woman, who backed up the absent Lois, of ever wanting to do Clark harm? Lois knew that she and Martha would someday be lifelong friends. Martha saw through Clark’s weak excuses to smack down his arguments and show him how he clearly thought Lois was an investigative genius. There was no way he could deny it now. Of course, he had never really denied it. If there were a way Martha could adopt Lois too, the way they offered to be Clark’s parents, Lois would snatch it up in an instant. Of course, that would make Clark literally her brother, which would be awkward, so never mind.

Lois didn’t want to acknowledge Martha’s theory that perhaps she was in love with Clark. That was just plain preposterous. Okay, maybe somewhere, buried incredibly deep inside her, was some eensy weensy, microcosmic, although highly unlikely possibility, that Lois felt some sort of unmotivated and completely unrealistic love for Clark. If she did, it was the love of a friend; a good friend who she had thought had been shot and almost died. No, she couldn’t be in love with Clark. True, she liked him and liked him a lot, and she was attracted to him, no doubt about that, but Lois didn’t fall in love. Well, okay, she had… with Superman, stupidly and head-over-heels and at first sight, but that had ended so painfully and so badly that she wasn’t going to dive blindly into love again. No, sirree. Slow and deliberate was the order of the day.

Secondly, and most importantly, Lois had learned that Clark was Clark Jerome Kent, just as he had said he was. Or was it Jerome Kent? He was a native of Italy, as Jonathan had hinted at earlier, and Clark’s folks had died when he was a kid. He hadn’t lied to her about that. Did that mean he went into foster care in Italy, not Wichita? Maybe it wasn’t foster care at all, but an orphanage. She wasn’t quite sure how the system worked over there. That part of the story wasn’t clear.

At some point, he had run away to America, illegally, and come to Smallville to find his extended family. Was Jonathan’s uncle his grandfather? Was that what they had said? It sounded like he had done this at a young age. So young he hadn’t even graduated from high school yet. Maybe Clark hadn’t been lying, after all. Perhaps once he had gotten to Smallville, someone had discovered him, which was how he had ended up in foster care in Wichita. Was that when he had changed his name? Had he changed his name? He was an orphan and his name was Clark Kent or had he just added the Clark after finding the grave as she had? Had he run away again? It explained how he knew about Smallville, its residents, and even possibly had dated Rachel, the sheriff’s now-deceased sister. Clark said that he hadn’t graduated from Smallville High or attended MidWest U. as he had told Perry.

What exactly had Clark been doing for the last ten to fifteen years? Where had he lived? He must have traveled the world, like he had said. Those stories of his travels must have been true. Growing up in Italy would explain his penchant for languages. She knew that kids in Europe were taught two, if not three languages, while still in primary school. On the other hand, could he be some kind of great con artist? No, that didn’t seem right, especially since the man remained, despite all his deceptions, one of the worst liars she had ever seen. Maybe it was just that he needed time to develop his lies and couldn’t lie on his feet, as Lois could. Although, that whole act of introducing himself to Hank as Charles Jerome Lane had slipped easily enough off his tongue.

So, both the Immigration and Naturalization Service (INS) and the mob were after him. Was he afraid to tell Lois the truth because he didn’t want her report him and get him fired, arrested, or worse, deported? Did he think she would do that to him? She guessed so many years on the run would make a man a bit paranoid and jumpy about whom he could and could not trust. Was that why Clark had so readily accepted her silly joke that they get married, because he needed a green card? He had claimed it was because he was in love with her, but what if it was more than just his infatuation?

Had Clark run away initially because the Italian organized crime syndicate had murdered his folks, and he had witnessed it? That made sense. Clark hadn’t wanted Lois to know all the details because she would investigate what happened to his parents and, thereby, lead the mob straight to him. He was afraid that if they found him they would try to use Lois as leverage against him. Had he learned something that would bring those criminals to justice and his parents had been killed in retaliation or by mistake, while trying to get him? Jonathan had hinted at something like that. Of course, Clark had only been ten at the time, but anything was possible.

It would also explain why he hadn’t trusted Lex Luthor on sight. Clark probably thought that LexCorp and Lex’s philanthropy was a cover for organized crime, as he had seen back in Italy in regards to the mob. What was she thinking? Of course, that was what Clark thought. He had said as much.

Lois sat down on the bed and wrapped her arms around her knees. The question was, now that she knew the truth what did it mean for her and Clark?

***End of Part 59***

Part 60

The truth of Clark’s past has now been revealed! Please leave your comments here .