From Part 41:
Michel jolted as her arm suddenly looped through his. "Come on, Dr. Renaud—can I call you Michel? While these two are playing Spy, we can discuss the recent development in that case involving Phillipe Boucher. Have you ever been to Alphonso's?"
"Hey!" Clark protested as Miss Lane started walking towards the door, tugging Michel along with her. "What recent development?"
She turned back to Clark with an overly sweet smile. "Oh, I'm sorry, but you're too... personally involved. I'm sure you understand."
Part 42
***********
Clark stared at the door long after Lois and Michel had disappeared through it. A cough from Perry stilled his jumbled thoughts and brought him back to the here and now.
"So. A twin brother, huh?" Perry's eyes also flicked to the door.
"Yeah," Clark replied. "Separated at birth. He lives in Paris. We just found each other a few months ago."
Perry gave a grunt and nodded. "Is he like you?"
Clark stilled. "Like me?" he echoed. "Uh...what...um, what do you mean?"
His boss shrugged. "Well, he certainly looks like your mirror image, minus the clothes and hairstyle. Does he have the same personality, too?"
"Oh!" Clark felt himself relax. "Well, he's a lot less organized than I try to be, and we have different interests, but overall, I think we have more in common than not. He just...needs more help coming out of his shell, I guess."
Perry looked thoughtful. "Hm."
"Chief?"
"Huh? Oh! Sorry, Kent, I was just...ah..." Perry clapped Clark on the back. "Say! Did you know that Elvis had a twin brother, too? Jesse Garon Presley. He was stillborn, poor thing; came out thirty-five minutes before the King. You know, some people think...."
***********
Alphonso's was...well, it certainly *was*. The loud and aggressively friendly staff constantly shouted to each other in a mix of English, Italian, and some strange patois that wasn't truly either. The smell of garlic filled every inch of the garish dining area, reeking even stronger from the kitchen; and once they were seated, their waiter brought them a basket of some kind of bread that was a bit like bruschetta, but smeared with butter and yet more garlic.
Teresa would have gagged.
"Get whatever you want," Miss Lane offered generously. "It's my treat."
"Er, thank you," Michel replied, scrutinizing the strange menu. Spaghetti *and* meatballs? Together?! In the end, he decided to just play it safe with a slice of pepperoni pizza; he always did enjoy peppers.
Miss Lane set her menu aside and grabbed one of the slices of bread. "You know, I brought Clark here once after a stakeout. He always seems to have some kind of hidden knowledge of the best take-out places in Metropolis, but for once, I was able to show *him* something mind-blowing."
"Ah." He set his own menu on top of hers. She began chewing her bread as though it had personally offended her. "Er, are you and Clark...all right?"
She swallowed the bite. "Of course we're all right! Why wouldn't we be all right?"
"Well—" Michel began, but Miss Lane steamrolled right over him.
"I mean we are still partners, after all! The deceitful lying fink only made me *think* he was betraying me for a bimbo who used to be my best friend, but he really wasn't, so everything is fine now. Just. Peachy." She took another vicious bite of the bread.
Michel winced.
"You know, an important part of being partners is *communication*," Lois complained, glaring at him while reaching for another garlicky victim.
He nodded. His parents had often told him as much, and based on the other couples he'd known throughout his life, the advice seemed to hold true.
"We're supposed to be able to trust each other," she continued, "and it's not like trusting someone has always been easy for me, you know?! We even talked about it!"
Michel watched as she tore apart the latest slice of bread, finally popping a morsel into her mouth. Was it possible to eat threateningly at someone?!
"You can't just go behind my back like that, even if it *was* Perry's idea! He doesn't know everything she did to me, but you *did*, Clark! Why couldn't you at least tell me it was a lie?!" She slammed a fist down on the table, glaring at him again.
"Er..."
Her eyes popped open. "Oh...oh my—I'm sorry, Michel! I guess I just...forgot who I was with, for a second."
"Do not worry about it, Miss Lane," he said, hoping to reassure her. A heavy wave of guilt crashed through him, even though he was not the source of her distress. In fact... 'Clark? Is that you?' he thought.
'Yeah,' Clark's mental voice replied in his head. 'I was trying to reach you, and...well, I guess I wound up listening in. I swear, I never meant to hurt her that badly...'
"Here I am yelling at Clark, and he's not even here," Miss Lane mumbled sheepishly, staring down at the remains of her bread.
The waiter showed up just then to ask if they were ready. Miss Lane rallied and rattled off her order; then he turned to Michel.
"Just an apology, please."
The waiter and Miss Lane both stared at him. "Is something wrong, Sir?"
Michel froze as he realized what he'd just said. Worse still, Clark was still talking, making it hard to think straight, and he couldn't figure out how to tune him out. "Er, sorry...I-I mean, *I* apologize; I was not ready," he covered.
'—and it seemed like the only way at the time,' Clark was saying.
"Oh! No problem," the waiter replied. "I can come back in another minute."
Miss Lane was still staring at him.
'—think you can somehow tell her that? Maybe just say—'
"IWillHaveTheSameAsHer, ThankYou!" Michel blurted out.
The waiter nodded, jotted something down, and walked away.
Enough was enough. Michel took a deep breath to clear his mind and focused on the wriggling tendril of Clark's guilty feelings. He imagined that it was a plug, and he tried to mentally grab it. Then, on the silent count of three, he gave it a good, hard yank.
Silence.
A chill ran up Michel's spine. Had he actually—?
'You're busy right now, aren't you?' Clark suddenly said in his head, sounding contrite. 'Sorry. I'll be quiet.'
Miss Lane blew out a breath and leaned back in her chair. "Anyway, I didn't actually bring you here just to complain about Clark, believe it or not."
"Of course not," he agreed amicably.
She popped a bit of her bread's dismembered remains into her mouth. "So, you guys are brothers?"
"Yes!" He didn't even try to suppress the smile. "We are twins, in fact. It is quite a miracle, no?"
"Definitely." She pushed the bread aside and rested her chin on one hand, fixing him with a stare. "So, how did you find each other?"
Michel froze.
"Was it difficult?" she prompted after a long moment in which no answers came forth. "I mean, neither of you are exactly famous, so how did you even find out that you had a twin on the other side of the Atlantic?"
"Er…" Michel mentally groped for his connection with Clark, seizing it desperately once he found it again. 'Help, Superman!'
'What on Earth—?' came the confused reply.
'Your woman is asking me things! How do I make her stop?!'
'Um, you can't,' Clark explained in his head. 'Just…stall. I'll be right over.'
Stall…. Michel took a deep breath. Stall. He could do that. He returned his attention to Miss Lane, who was now giving him a peculiar look.
"You really are twins," she announced.
"Eh?"
"That lost-in-space look," she said, waving vaguely at him. "Clark does it a lot. Usually it means he just remembered an errand that suddenly can't wait."
"Ah!" Michel seized on the explanation. "That is exactly it; I just realized I must return my books to the library!"
She nodded her understanding. "Ah. Well, it's a shame your library is on the other side of the Atlantic."
Oh. Right. Crap.
"Yes, that is…most inconvenient," he agreed.
"Still, it's kind of funny that you both forget stuff like that," she said, chuckling. "But that brings me right back to my question."
"But of course."
"When did you find out you had a brother?" She leaned forward, her chin resting on her hands.
Michel could feel sweat beading on his forehead. "Er…Well…"
"Lois!"
They both looked up to see Clark heading towards them. Michel breathed a sigh of relief while Miss Lane shot to her feet.
"What are you doing here?" she snarled, glaring at the one who had fallen from her favor.
With the look on Clark's face, he may as well have been crawling on his hands and knees. "Lois, I've been thinking over this whole thing with the Star, and I am so sorry! I should have insisted on including you in Perry's plan."
Miss Lane blinked at him. "Well…yes! You should have!" she huffed. She resumed her seat, casting wary glances in Clark's direction.
"And I should have known better than to put the story ahead of your feelings," Clark continued.
An odd look crossed her face. "Well, no, Clark, that's…" She shook her head. "Always put the story first. That's the rule."
Clark frowned, his confusion tangible. "But you—"
"I'll get over it," Miss Lane replied with a shrug. "Just…keep me in the loop next time, okay?"
"Um…Okay…"
The waiter dropped by just then, and after some brief discussion, Clark was seated at the table and given a menu. "What did the two of you get?"
Michel was curious about this as well.
"Oh, just the same thing I had last week," Lois replied. "Since you're here, I was trying to find out how the two of you found each other."
Clark's expression as he looked at Michel was unreadable, but the sudden flash of sympathy through Michel's brain was perfectly clear. "Oh? So you're already done filling him in on the Boucher case?"
It took every bit of his restraint not to leap across the table and kiss both of Clark's cheeks. "As it happens, no! And was this not the reason you asked me to come, Miss Lane?"
The brunette seemed flustered. "Uh, well, of course…" she mumbled.
Clark rested his chin on one hand, giving her a look of open and innocent curiosity. Only Michel was privy to an invisible smirk. "So, what did you find out, then?"
Miss Lane sighed in defeat. "Okay. Well, somebody definitely greased a few palms to get him into the country without going through the usual check-points, but since nobody's talking, I don't know who. But, I do know who else was on the same flight!"
"Who?" Clark and Michel asked at once.
Miss Lane leaned back with a self-satisfied smile. "Major Douglas Burnham, formerly a member of Project Bluebook, better known as—"
Clark grimaced. "—Bureau 39."
Michel spent a few moments in the less savory section of his native tongue, until Clark's ears began to turn pink. Both reporters were staring at him when he finished.
"That actually sounded pretty," Miss Lane commented.
"It wasn't," Clark mumbled.
"I think I recognized the word for kiss?"
"You didn't," said Clark.
Michel took a deep, composing breath. "Please pardon my English. I am sorry, but I wish you had instead told me that he had fallen from the plane!"
"Now, don't panic," Clark said, even though his own tension leaked through. "This…might not be as bad as it looks."
Michel raised a skeptical eyebrow at his twin. "Oh? Because it looks very, very bad right now."
"Well, things aren't always what they look like."
TBC....
