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

Where we left of in Part 69 …

Clark sat on top of the orphanage’s roof for a minute longer than he had meant to, trying to stop the tears from his eyes. He had kissed Lois so passionately the night before, and then ran out on her, and she still hunted him down and begged him to forgive her. How could he ever give up such a woman? How had she known Superman was going to be at the Metropolis City Orphanage? He shook his head. Had that been another one of those psychic visions, or had she followed Clark there from his apartment? Had she thought Santa was Clark not Superman?

Time for him to face the music. Clark stood up, took a leap into the air, and came back down spinning out of Jonathan’s old Santa suit, and back into Clark Kent’s suit. He pulled his glasses out of his breast pocket, put them on, and ran his fingers through his hair. He took another deep breath, and entered the orphanage’s kitchen through the side door.

There were a few pieces of pumpkin pie left, and they smelled almost as good as the pie Martha was cooling on the counter, when he had stopped by that afternoon to pick up Jonathan’s Santa suit. It smelled so good, it almost tempted him to try to take a bite, but this was neither the time nor the place for him to throw up.

“What are you going to name him?” he heard Samantha say.

He was glad the little girl’s tears had abated for the moment. He had hoped the ragdoll would help her feel better, but instead it had made her feel worse. She hadn’t wanted a doll; she had wanted her mommy back. Lois was right, as always; there were some things that were outside of his abilities. He couldn’t bring someone back from the dead.

Clark shrugged. Well, not, at least, without a time machine.

He walked into the dining room from the kitchen. He hadn’t taken more than five steps, before his favorite brunette approached him.

“Clark, I was so worried. He found you!” she said, giving him a hug. “Santa found you.”

“Hi, Lois. I was helping out in the kitchen… Um… about last night…” he paused, running his hand through his hair. How could he apologize for kissing her so thoroughly under the mistletoe and then telling her that he wished it hadn’t happened when he was so glad it had? “I know I shouldn’t have…” He began.

“The mistletoe, I know. I shouldn’t have hung it up. I got it, Chuck. I understand. It would have been like you leaving a Double Fudge Crunch bar on my desk and telling me to save it for Christmas. The temptation was too great,” Lois said, stepping back. She pointed her finger in his face. “Don’t do anything that stupid again! You have some major explaining to do before I’ll give you access to my lips again. For now, you aren’t allowed to kiss me without my say so.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, bowing his head to hide his grin.

For now.

His smile faded.

Forever.

***

Part 70

Lois and Clark walked down the street from the orphanage, side by side until her boots slipped on a patch of ice. Clark caught her with one arm and pulled her against him to stop her from falling. After that, they continued walking; only now Lois held on to his arm. He wasn’t complaining.

“What do you feel like doing?” she asked.

That sounded like a loaded question to him. Personally, Clark was happy doing what they were doing. He could walk like this all night. He sighed. But she could not. His first option would be a romantic dinner for two, followed by taking her back to his place, and making love to her for… he took a random guess… the next ninety years, but that option wasn’t available to him either.

An idea struck him. It was wild, impetuous, and crazy. More likely than not, it would backfire on him. Clark had been sure the kiss from the night before would’ve caused Lois to explode like a firework and yet, she forgave him. Since he seemed to be blessed with luck on his side tonight, he decided to take the risk. “Let’s go to the store and get a carton of ice cream.”

Lois looked at him as if he had lost his marbles. “Clark, you don’t eat ice cream.”

“I know. It’s not for me,” he replied, turning the corner and heading for the market down the block.

She shrugged, finding the suggestion acceptable, as he knew she would. “I vote chocolate.”

“How’d I guess,” Clark said with a laugh.

Less than half hour later, their cab pulled up outside an old townhouse in the suburb of North Bridge, which looked as if it were overflowing with people.

“What is this place?” Lois asked, after they had stepped onto the sidewalk and had paid for the cab.

“I’ve been invited to a party. I wasn’t going to go because, frankly, I hate parties, especially family Christmas parties, but I owe someone a favor, so…” he said, giving her a sheepish grin.

“Fine, Smallville,” Lois replied, passing him the bag with the ice cream. “I’m guessing this isn’t for me.”

“It’s pot luck,” he explained, shifting the ice cream to the other hand and holding her elbow as they walked up the front stoop.

“Anyone I know?” she asked as he rang the doorbell.

“Actually…”

The door flung open and there stood a tall older woman with short auburn hair. She looked exactly like Clark imagined Cat would in twenty years. She was dressed more conservatively than Cat, but the years had been kind to her. “Why, aren’t you handsome?... er… a handsome couple,” the woman said.

“Is Cat here?” Clark asked.

Lois’s hand slipped down to his and twisted his arm behind his back. He imagined that would be painful for anyone else, instead he shook his hand free and placed it against the small of her back to keep her from escaping.

The woman gave him a startled expression. “You’re friends with my Kitty?” she sputtered with excitement, glancing between them. “Both of you?”

“Yes, we work with Cat, and she invited us. I’m Clark Kent, and this is Lois Lane. I hope it’s okay that we came. We just finished a big story, and we weren’t sure we could make it,” Clark said, producing the gallon of ice cream. “We understand it’s pot luck.”

“Oh, gosh. Where are my manners?” the woman said, stepping away from the door to let them inside. “I’m Betsy Grant, Cat’s mother. Joe, my husband, is around here somewhere. Why don’t you put that ice cream on the dessert table? I’ll go get you a scoop.” Cat’s mother headed through the packed living room towards the kitchen.

As they followed, Lois hissed under her breath, “I can’t believe you brought me here! Cat’s going to be furious. I’m sure she invited you as her date, not to bring a date.”

Despite everything, Clark couldn’t be happier with Lois’s choice of words, even though he knew he had no right to be.

They arrived in the dining room. There were two buffets and the dining table covered with food. They found the one with the desserts and drinks. Lois poured herself some punch.

“Cat told me specifically that she was inviting me ‘as a friend’,” Clark whispered. “Apparently, her mother is one to become excited by the thought of her daughter getting married. Cat didn’t want to give her another false hope in that regard.”

Lois choked on her fruit punch. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol she wasn’t expecting it to contain, or from the preposterous idea of Cat walking down the aisle. “Cat?”

He shrugged. He would love to see Cat find someone who loved her as much as Clark loved Lois. Although, he guessed finding one’s soul mate was more a matter of chance than the norm. Clark had been lucky in that regard. He had already known his true love’s name and address when he arrived in this dimension. He just hadn’t known that her True Clark had already staked a claim.

“Anyway, with you here it proves to her family that Cat has more than just male friends,” he murmured.

“We’re not friends,” Lois grumbled to herself, taking another sip of her punch.

Betsy Grant returned with an ice cream scoop and some dessert bowls.

“Thank you, Mrs. Grant,” Clark said, serving Lois some ice cream before she went off like a nuclear bomb.

“Please, call me Betsy,” Cat’s mother said, lowering her voice. “Mrs. Grant is my mother-in-law.” She rolled her eyes in a familiar manner. “She’s around here somewhere. Just don’t ask her to sing, or she’ll never stop.”

Clark laughed. “I’ll try my best.”

“I’m so glad Kitty finally invited some of her friends from the city,” Betsy said, grinning at both of them and setting a hand on their arms. “I was beginning to wonder if she had any friends at all.”

“Don’t worry yourself on that account,” Lois reassured her. “Cat is extremely popular.”

Clark handed his partner the dish of ice cream before Lois could tell Cat’s mother how popular.

“Now, if we could only find my Kitty a good man, so she could settle down and start working on my grandchildren,” Betsy lamented.

Clark picked up a brownie and shoved it into Lois’s mouth before she could tell Betsy how much practice Cat already had in that department.

“We’re working on that,” he lied through his teeth, and then patted Lois on the back as she started to cough.

“Thanks, Clark,” Lois said, when she could speak again.

“I’ll go see if I can find my Kitty. She’s around here somewhere. In the meantime, eat, drink, and be merry,” Betsy said, disappearing into the crowd.

“I take back everything I said earlier. This party is going to be a riot.” Lois nudged Clark. “‘We’re working on that’?” she scoffed.

Clark shrugged sheepishly. He knew that line was going to come back to haunt him. “What was I supposed to say?” he answered, pulling a bottle of water out of a tub filled with ice and cans of soda pop.

“‘Don’t hold your breath’, perhaps?” Lois said, chuckling.

“I haven’t given up hope for Cat,” he replied.

“You could always marry her,” Lois suggested facetiously, or in what he hoped was jest, before she walked back into the living room.

“I haven’t given up all hope for us either,” Clark murmured. As Martha had reminded him that morning, there was still hope.

“Kitty!” Betsy shouted up the stairs. “Come down here and join the party, dear. Your friends are here.”

“My friends?” Cat called back down with suspicion, a moment before she peered down the stairwell. She was dressed elegantly in slacks and a red blouse, and had pulled her auburn locks back into a loose braid at the base of her neck. She spotted him and a familiar grin appeared. “Clark!” Cat gushed, rushing the rest of the way downstairs and into his arms with one of her entire body hugs. “You made it!”

“Cat?” Lois sputtered in surprise.

Cat turned and enveloped Lois in their embrace. “And Lois, too. Wow! Thanks for coming, you guys. Have you met everyone? Let me give you the grand tour.”

“You look good,” Clark said, meaning it.

“Yeah, I didn’t recognize you,” Lois said wryly.

“Did you expect that I dress like I do at the office with my family?” Cat said, and rolled her eyes. She introduced them to her three brothers, Peter, Matt, and Nate, and to Matt and Nate’s wives. Then, with her arms hooked around Lois and Clark’s elbows, Cat dragged them around to find her father, her uncles, aunts, grandmother, and cousins. There were nieces and nephews, and friends of the family, whom she didn’t bother introducing them to, although they did stop in front of the parish priest for a ‘how do you do’.

As Cat had predicted they would, everyone welcomed them. She seemed flushed with excitement that they were there. It was so unlike the ‘family Christmas party’ at the Lang’s house, Clark was very glad he had come, happy to give Cat so much pleasure so easily. He glanced over at his partner; even Lois seemed to be having a good time.

Maybe Lois and Cat would come out of this as friends.

Even Clark knew that wish would stretch this Christmas miracle to its breaking point.

********
Deadline
********

Strangely enough, January passed pleasantly for Clark. He felt better when he didn’t think of that deadline, fast approaching, of Herb’s return. Clark lived one day at a time. He treated his life as if he had no tomorrow; for that was what the deadline felt like to him, a line after which his heart would die. Of course, the pleasantness could also have had something to do with the fact that Lois had told him that Luthor would be out of town for the entire month. Without Luthor in Metropolis, it actually felt like Clark had more time to spend with Lois and less time needing to patrol the skies.

Clark spent his free time, what little of it he had, flying to Brazil and searching each town and village of that region for the Jaguar. Weeks passed, blurring into the previous ones and still Clark found no sign of the man with his face. He was beginning to wonder if the Jaguar knew Superman was looking for him. Had he, too, seen the resemblance between the two of them?

January ended with a bang, which to Clark announced that Luthor must have returned to town. The CostMart chain, the biggest rival to LexAid, announced that they would be opening a flagship store in Metropolis by summer. Suddenly, their other location in the city was hit with a rash of thefts and vandalism, and the new store’s location was plagued by construction woes. Even Lois admitted it sounded mob based, but neither of them could discover who was behind the attacks.

Lois. Just being in her presence was cathartic to Clark’s soul. Their friendship had blossomed under the lack of Luthor’s acid rain. It was still friendship, as Clark couldn’t allow it to be more, but they had grown closer. She was now solidly his best friend, and he hoped he was hers. He had started telling her stories of his childhood, from before his parents died. The characters had no names in his stories. The locations could have been in the clouds for his lack of place names. Still, Lois ate them up ravenously and begged, at least with her eyes and her whole expression, for more. She didn’t pressure him. She had stopped calling him ‘liar’ to his face, which he appreciated; although, ‘Smallville’ slipped out more regularly than he liked. He continued to search for an endearment that captured her whole essence.

Clark tied Lois’s change in attitude back to their kiss under the mistletoe. Sure, her anger may have softened earlier than that, when she had come to stay with him while worried about Barbara Trevino, but something had clicked with that kiss, something that had made Lois not jump to anger as her ‘go-to’ emotion. That in itself was worth the last kiss.

He sighed. If only there was some way… He winced, knowing he could never willingly do that to another Clark. He wasn’t the same man he had been when he had met the Lois who had made him Superman. He wouldn’t try to steal another Clark’s Lois again. Wasn’t that why he was there flying over the Amazonian rainforest searching for a ghost? On the other hand, should Clark discover he was in the free and clear, nothing would stop him from claiming Lois as his own. Well, except Lois, that was.

Looking into the far distance, he could see the city of Manaus rising out of the forest. If the Jaguar lived there, it would be practically impossible to find him. Clark had looked through the archives of the Daily Planet’s South American edition, but found it limited to general events and politics. Therefore, he went to the local Brazilian papers. The mysterious Jaguar vigilante wasn’t referenced in the Folha de São Paulo, the O Globo from Rio de Janeiro, nor the Correio Braziliense in Brasilia. If Clark hadn’t met the Jaguar himself, he would have thought him a myth as well. He had best try the local paper for Manaus.

As he went lower to find a spot to land and change, he flew over a small town. The most wonderful fragrance of something deep fried and salty assaulted his senses. Although not a fan of deep fried foods in general, he had found that his food aversion had lessened somewhat in the months since his and Lois’s stay in Smallville. Not enough for him to actively eat desserts, or even wish to try to, but when he had stopped a sugarcane plantation fire several weeks before, he found that the smell of burning sugar had not made him nauseous as it had in the past.

It was coming on lunchtime, at least in Metropolis. Though Clark didn’t require sustenance to fuel his energy that tantalizing smell begged him to take a break. If no other reason was needed, Lois loved being introduced to new cuisine.

Clark landed in the woods outside of town just off the road and spun out of his uniform. He had opted for tourist look: a hat with a brim, khakis, and a long sleeve t-shirt to cover his suit. Clearly, Superman searching for the Jaguar would garner too much attention. Clark Kent, on the other hand…

Within twenty minutes, Clark was sitting at a table at an outdoor café eating a delectable fried pastel, a chicken-filled pastry pie, and drinking a black coffee. The air was sweet, fresh, and not too hot, despite the season and humidity. He loved this little village hidden the forest, with its colonial style buildings, and good food. He would really have to bring Lois back here someday.

His shoulders hunched, and he dropped his head into his hands. Once again, he had let himself forget, just for a second, that Lois wasn’t his to have a future with. Anguish once more washed over him.

A hand rested on his shoulder. “Are you okay, my son?” asked a deep voice in Portuguese.

“I’ve felt better,” Clark admitted, continuing in Portuguese.

“I, myself, haven’t been able to eat pastéis in years. Oh, how I miss them,” the man said with laughter.

Clark glanced up into the smiling eyes of old priest. “It is my heart that aches, padre, not my stomach.”

“Alas, passion is not my strong suit,” joked the father. “Love, on the other hand, is a feeling we all experience, my son. Perhaps you can come by the church after the noon mass, and we can talk. I promised Carlos that I would bring him some pastéis as a treat for lunch after my doctor’s appointment.”

Glancing at old priest’s cane, Clark stuffed his last bite into his mouth. “Here, let me get that for you,” he offered. “I can walk back with you as I have to be somewhere later.” Work. In Metropolis. On the other side of the hemisphere.

“Thank you, my son, but that is not necessary. Carlos gave me funds for lunch,” said the priest, holding up his wallet.

“I insist,” Clark said.

“Thank you, my son. That is most gracious of you. I am Padre Jacó.”

“Clark,” Clark responded, shaking the man’s hand. He paid for several dozen pastéis, much more than he had expected, but he had Foundation funds to burn through before he and Herb were able to reset time. “Carlos must have quite an appetite.”

“Oh, he does, but he won’t get more than one, if he’s lucky. Those are for his kids,” explained Padre Jacó with a sparkle to his eye.

“He’s been busy. How many kids does he have?” Clark asked.

“Too many and more all the time, it seems. I have lost count, I’m afraid,” said Jacó. “Carlos has been a God-send to the orphanage.”

Clark blushed at his erroneous assumption. It also explained why Father Jacó was buying this man’s lunch. He picked up the box with Carlos’s special order, and they started slowly down the street.

“You speak Portuguese very well, Clark. Are you from the United States or Canada?” Padre Jacó asked.

“Kansas,” Clark said, and at his blank look continued, “United States. What gave me away?”

“We don’t meet many ‘Clarks’ around here,” Jacó said with a wink as they turned towards the church at the end of the street. “What do you do?”

“Journalist,” Clark answered. “But, today, I’m here as a tourist.”

Jacó nodded his head. “We’re happy that you’re here.”

Clark felt better too. There was stillness to this town that reminded him of the Smallville of his youth. He felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted off his shoulders. Perhaps it was the helping of others, or even the small gesture of giving the orphans a treat.

They walked on in silence a minute before Jacó spoke again, “Is she here or back home, this woman who makes you miserable?”

“Lois doesn’t make me miserable; she makes me happy,” Clark said a tad too defensibly, before catching himself. He took a deep breath and responded more calmly, “Home.” He liked the sound of that word. For better or worse, this dimension was his home now. He didn’t want to leave. “She’s everything I hoped for and more, when I first dreamed of …” He almost said meeting her. “— falling in love.”

“Happy, yet miserable. Is it because you’re here, and she’s there?”

The reason Clark was in Brazil at all was because of Lois. “Yes… no… It’s complicated,” he replied.

“It always is,” said Jacó. “Is she married?”

That was a good question, to which Clark had no answer. In this timeline ‘no’, but ‘maybe’ in her true timeline. On the other hand, it was entirely possible that Lois wouldn’t have married or dated her true Clark yet in her true timeline, but in the future. Although, it seemed almost inconceivable that any version of himself could work so close to Lois and not try to ask her out. While being best friends was better than just friends, which was an improvement over acquaintances, which was miles above her despising him, it was still nowhere near as wonderful as dating her had been.

Clark must have thought about the question too long, because Jacó asked, “Are you?”

“No! No, thank God. We’re both single,” he rushed on. “I mean I’m available, and I just don’t know if she is.”

“Uh-huh,” Jacó replied in a manner that reminded Clark of Perry, making Clark smile sheepishly. “Have you tried asking her?”

“No, I can’t do that. You see, she doesn’t know,” Clark explained, and rather badly at that.

Jacó gave him an odd look. “Doesn’t know? How can she not know? Either she is or she isn’t.”

“She doesn’t remember,” Clark said.

Jacó raised an eyebrow. “You’ve fallen in love with a woman with no memory?” he guessed.

“Kind of. Sort of. Not really,” Clark said as another wince crossed his face.

“Uh-huh.”

“As you see, complicated,” Clark groaned, hitting the side of the box with his head.

“No wonder you’re miserable,” Jacó said, patting Clark’s shoulder. “You don’t know whether you’re coming or going.”

He had hit the nail on the head of Clark’s problem.

They walked to the side of the old church and into the colonial style rectory. Halfway down the hall, Jacó knocked upon and then opened a door.

Children seemed to fill the room, cheering as a short knight in a cardboard helmet, shield, and sword fought a large man in a green papier-mâché dragon mask. As they watched, the dragon collapsed on the floor, and all the children descended on him, covering him like a mudslide. Clark glanced at Jacó, wondering what his reaction to this display would be. Personally, Clark was delighted. He enjoyed seeing children taking pleasure in their education.

Jacó started clapping enthusiastically. “That is the best rendition of St. George and the Dragon I’ve seen yet.”

The children clamored to their feet with murmurs of “Padre Jacó”.

“Go and wash up. I’ve brought you a treat to enjoy with your lunch,” Jacó said, nodding to Clark and the box of pastéis.

“Obrigado, Padre Jacó,” the children said in unison, before rushing out of the room in a much more orderly fashion than Clark imagined possible.

A nun emerged out of the shadows and took the box from Clark with a quiet nod of her head.

Jacó turned to Clark. “I thank you for buying us lunch, Clark, and may God be with you and your lady friend during this trying time. I wish we had more time to converse, but alas, I must lead the luncheon prayer and get ready for the noonday mass,” he said, slightly bowing his head. “Good day, senhor.”

“Thank you, Padre Jacó. Just speaking of the matter has given me much comfort,” Clark reassured the man, and it had. These worries had been burning a hole in his chest since he learned about them back in November. It felt good to talk to someone, even someone who didn’t understand all the factors of his dilemma. Cat didn’t know Clark was from another dimension. His new-dimensional folks didn’t know it might be possible to save their son in infancy. Lois didn’t know any of it. He was keeping more secrets than he ever had in his life.

Padre Jacó walked to the door. “Carlos, Clark here is a journalist from the EU. He paid for lunch for our students. You must remember him in your prayers.” He hurried from the room.

“I shall, Padre,” a voice, belonging to Carlos, said from under the mask.

Clark extended his hand to the dragon, who gratefully accepted it, and pulled him to his feet. “Clark.”

“Nice to meet you, Clark. I am Carlos, the humble thespian and teacher,” Carlos said, tugging off the dragon mask with a smile. Carlos was revealed to be a dark haired man with short beard and mustache, wearing around his neck a green scarf, which seemed to be a part of his costume. He rubbed his neck. “You wouldn’t expect the townspeople to destroy the dragon so vigorously.” He chuckled, setting the mask down on his desk. “I thank you for your generosity, senhor, and the kids thank you. Your kind gift will mean that the children will be able to have pastéis again next week, if they’re good.” His smile implied that he thought that goal entirely reachable. “Let me guess, Padre Jacó didn’t tell you how many pastéis you volunteered to buy.”

Clark laughed. “No, senhor, he did not.”

Carlos picked up the cardboard knight costume, which St. George had discarded in his rush to get to lunch, and put them on a table to the side of the room. “The children made the costumes themselves,” he said with pride. “If you like, I can repay you for the pastries. Unlike Padre Jacó, I believe generosity should never be given unwillingly.”

“It wasn’t. Being an orphan myself, I know how rare a treat such as this must be for them,” Clark responded.

Carlos looked him over. “Padre Jacó said that you’re a reporter,” he said, switching from Portuguese to English. “What are you doing in Aldeola?”

“I’m just passing through,” Clark said, also moving to English, as Carlos’s words sunk in and brow furrowed at the strange coincidence. “This town’s name is ‘small town’?”

“It fits, does it not?” Carlos said with a chuckle. “We are small, but we are close, no?”

“I only meant… my hometown is Smallville, Kansas,” Clark replied.

“Two small towns in a small world,” Carlos said. “Do you report at the newspaper in Smallville?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t lived in Smallville for many years,” Clark confessed. “I recently moved to Metropolis and now work at the Daily Planet.”

“Oh? Metropolis?” Carlos responded, coughing softly. “And what are you reporting on here in Brasil?”

“I’m not here on a story. I’m only passing through,” Clark replied, starting to help Carlos tidy up the classroom.

“Oh, bom,” Carlos murmured. He placed a hand to his chest momentarily and exhaled in relief.

“I’m looking for someone,” Clark said, lifting up a toppled chair.

“This lady which Padre Jacó referred to?” Carlos asked, and Clark could sense a slight increase in his heart rate.

Clark glanced up and caught his eye. “No. Her true love.”

Carlos laughed. “Her true love? Are you… how do they say?... cupido, senhor?”

Clark pulled out his wallet and sat down on the corner of one of the tables. He removed his driver’s license and flipped it over, holding it out to the teacher. “This is her, Lois Lane.”

Carlos set down some papers and went over to the picture. He glanced at the drawing Clark had made of the Lois who had made him Superman. Her hair was a bit shorter than this dimension’s Lois but, other than that, they essentially looked the same.

“She is beautiful,” Carlos said, stating the obvious.

Clark nodded, drawing his hand back to look at the picture again. He had sketched it so long ago, back when he never thought he would ever see Lois ever again; before her husband had been lost in time by Tempus, back when he thought he would die from missing that one kiss she had given him when they had met. He shut his eyes, only now replaying the last real kiss under the mistletoe with this Lois, and how it had been a thousand times better.

“You love her, Clark,” Carlos stated the obvious, before switching back to Portuguese. “What are you doing here? You should be back home with your amor.”

“When I came to Metropolis, I thought her true love was gone forever, but I have since learned that isn’t exactly the case. There is a part of her, which misses him terribly,” Clark said hoarsely in Portuguese, still unable to pull his eyes away from Lois’s picture. He cleared his throat and put his driver’s license back into his wallet. He looked up into a pair of very familiar eyes. “I believe that the Jaguar is her true love, her soul mate.”

Carlos threw his head back and laughed. “The Jaguar? The vigilante?” He shook his head and wiped a tear from his eye. “No, no, no, senhor. The Jaguar most certainly is not that lady’s true love. He is a myth,” he said, kissing his fingertips and throwing them into the air. “He doesn’t exist.”

Taking a quick look around the room to make sure that they were alone, Clark lifted his shaking fingers to his glasses. “I know another vigilante who also doesn’t exist,” he said softly, lowering his hand and taking his glasses with it. “I know, because in a former life the Jaguar used to be me.”

“You are doido, senhor. I don’t believe in former lives. There is this life, and there is heaven and hell,” Carlos said, crossing himself as he glanced over his shoulder to the door leading to the hall.

“Then how do you explain this?” Clark asked pointing between them. “I’m you from another dimension otherwise I couldn’t be here talking with you. You were me…” He lowered his voice to a low whisper. “— Superman in your previous life, Carlos. Someone went back in time and killed you off as an infant. Otherwise, you’d be living my life. You’d be Clark Kent in Metropolis in love with Lois Lane.”

Carlos lifted up Clark’s hand recommending he put his glasses back on. “Don’t be ridiculous. Superman can’t die. He’s invulnerable,” he hissed in Portuguese.

Clark shrugged. “I’ve got my weaknesses.”

Carlos lifted up his hands. “It’s not true. I’m not the man you’re searching for. Please, just go. I won’t tell anyone, not Padre Jacó, not anyone, I promise,” he pleaded, before switching back to English. “Just go.”

“I came to this dimension from mine, because everyone back there discovered I was him,” Clark went on after returning his glasses to his face. “My Lois, the Lois where I’m from, had died before I could meet her. I was told that the Lois here, in this dimension, had lost her Clark back when he was a baby, back in 1966.”

“I was born in 1967,” Carlos said as proof that what Clark was saying was false.

“Mid-March 1967? That would have been nine months after the Clark from this dimension was killed,” Clark explained.

“It doesn’t mean anything!” Carlos shouted and then lowered his voice, glancing back at the door again. “I am not the man you seek, Superman.”

“Please, call me Clark,” Clark said, wondering at this man’s hesitation. Did Carlos not love Lois at first sight, as Clark had? That idea seemed inconceivable. How could any man not fall in love with Lois at first sight? The drawing might not have been enough to see Lois’s true beauty, or for Carlos to recognize his soul mate. It certainly didn’t show her fire. Clark hoped he didn’t need to introduce them in person to convince Carlos of what Clark already knew to be true, that Carlos was somehow the reincarnated soul of Lois’s True Clark. On the other hand, maybe there was another reason for him balking at Clark’s suggestion. “Are you already married?” Clark asked. “Is that why you aren’t interested in finding your soul mate?”

“No!” Carlos said. “This whole discussion is preposterous. I am not this woman’s soul mate.” Once more he switched back to English. “She is not minha… mine.”

“I know this is a whole lot to take in all at once, but believe me, it’s true. I also was shocked to discover that her True Clark had been reincarnated,” Clark said, as an understatement. “You must understand that if I cannot save your life back when you’re a baby and right this dimension’s timeline, the honorable thing to do, as her substitute soul mate, is step aside so Lois can be with her true soul mate, you. She deserves the man who will make her complete, who will make her genuinely happy.”

Carlos raised a hand to his head as if his head throbbed. “Are you telling me that you can travel through time as well?”

Clark shrugged. “I have a friend with a machine that can travel across time and dimensions. It is how I got here, but it’s not really important,” he said.

“No. No, it’s very important,” Carlos said, holding up his hand. “Let’s just assume, for one crazy moment, that you are not insane. You’re telling me that you’re going to go back in time and rescue this man, who you believe I was in a previous life, correct? And this will change life, as I know it. I, Carlos, will no longer exist, because I will be living life as…?” He waved his hand in the air unable to say the word.

Clark hadn’t thought about it in quite those terms. “Essentially, yes, but that is who you are meant to be, Carlos. You weren’t supposed to be killed off as an infant. You had lived long enough to become… you-know-who… meet Lois and fall in love. Perhaps you were even already married and had children when it happened. I don’t know. All I do know, is that someone erased that future by going back in time and killing you as a baby, thereby erasing the future Utopia created by your and Lois’s descendants.”

“How do you know that’s who I was meant to be? You don’t even know me!” Carlos argued back. “You’re telling me that I, Carlos, don’t matter.” He lowered his voice. “If you remember what I told you in the woods, Superman, I have people who depend on me. If you go back in time and change it, so that the current person I am today doesn’t exist, what will happen to all the people who depend on me?” He flung his hand out towards the door. “Do you think there is a line of people out there to take care of and teach these children? Those children need me. This community needs me to protect it, and the rainforest. I am asking you not to change time, even if you can. Go home, marry the woman who you love, and have many children. I give you permission to take my place as father of Utopia,” he said, walking to his desk and taking off his scarf to reveal his clerical collar. “I, on the other hand, am already a father; I’m Padre Carlos. I have given my life to the Roman Catholic Church, senhor. These people may not need me to create Utopia, but they need me all the same.” He picked up his cassock from the back of his desk chair and put it on. Then he started to button up the front of his clerical robes. “If you’ll excuse me, my children are waiting for me to join them for lunch.” He marched out the door.

Clark stood in the empty classroom with his jaw hanging open. This conversation hadn’t gone at all as he had thought it would. He was at a complete loss at what to do next.

***End of Part 70***

Part 71

How's that for a twisty turn? Comments ?

In this part, the small town of Aldeola portrayed is pure fiction. I don't know if such a small town exists in Brazil, let alone within the Brazilian rainforest.

Again, many thanks to Ultra Woman for her translation and Brazilian culture assistance. If there are any errors in this part, it is due to my ignorance and not hers.

Here are a list of Portuguese words used in this part and their meaning:

Senhor = sir
Pastel , (plural: pastéis) = a usually meat-filled pastry pie
minha = mine (possessive female)
obrigado = Thank you
bom = good as in “oh, good.” (oh, bom)
cupido = cupid
amor = love as in “your amor” your love
doido = crazy / insane as in “you’re crazy”
Aldeola = small town, hamlet