Disclaimer: All recognisable characters etc are property of DC Comics, Warner Bros and December 3rd Productions. Please don't sue me!
Author's Note: This is set 7 months after The Phoenix. Thanks goes to KenJ and Trina for beta-reading. You've been a massive help!
The title is tentative; if anyone has any better ideas, please let me know
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The alarm's insistent beeping broke into Clark's dream. He reached out and shut it off without opening his eyes. If he kept them closed, maybe he could reclaim a little of the dream... A dream where Lois loved him and he was actually happy.
Groaning, he opened his eyes and looked around at the sparsely furnished confines of his tiny studio apartment. Nope; still in Paris.
Sighing, he dragged himself out of bed and into what served as a bathroom. He splashed water on his face, trying to wake up properly. In the mirror, he dimly noted the scruffy beard. For a moment he considered just leaving it, then hesitated. Superman couldn't be seen with a beard. Sighing again, he reached for the hand mirror. Superman was the one thing that gave his life purpose any more, but it was getting harder by the day to maintain the image expected of the superhero. He refused to think about what would happen when he no longer cared about Superman either.
Six months had passed since he'd left Metropolis, leaving behind his friends, his job, his home and moved to Paris. Six, endless, interminable months of travelling from assignment to assignment as a foreign correspondent, spending only a day or two at his apartment in Paris before the next story, the next city beckoned.
Six months without Lois.
His shoulders slumped. Seven months since he'd asked her out and been shot down. He could still remember every single moment of that particular conversation. The look of surprise on her face, the automatic rejection in her eyes before she even opened her mouth... her total scuttling of all his hopes and dreams. He gripped the small vanity. Even now, it still hurt as much as it had that day in the Planet newsroom. Naively, he'd thought that maybe they could be okay, that they could salvage their friendship. That being her best friend would-had to- suffice. But he'd been wrong. It had been the beginning of the end. Between Lois's rejection, Mayson's death and Lois's relationship with Daniel Scardino, staying in Metropolis had become a nightmare.
Paris was turning out to be just as tortuous.
Leaning closer to the mirror, he inspected the closeness of the shave, ignoring the dark circles under his eyes and the dullness in them. Close enough. Shrugging into his suit, he left the apartment, as ready as he was going to be to face another day.
Fresh from an assignment- Brussels this time- he picked up a copy of the European edition of the Daily Planet to read with his coffee at the cafe down the street from his apartment building. Sitting down with his espresso, he opened the newspaper and prepared to catch up on what had been happening in his absence.
A small piece caught his eye, lamenting that the arms of the Venus de Milo had been taken off exhibit in the Louvre. Frowning, he folded the paper and put it back on the table. He'd heard a rumour while in Brussels that Gainsborough's Yellow Boy had been removed from show in the British Royal Academy, ostensibly for restoration. He'd thought it odd at the time. He'd seen Yellow Boy himself when he'd recovered it from that bunker full of art treasures- and his globe- under Metropolis, and to his, admittedly inexpert, eyes, the painting had seemed to be in perfect condition. But he'd ignored it. It had been two years since he'd seen the painting, and any number of things could have happened to it in the meantime.
Almost anyone else would've dismissed the idea that the two stories were in any way related. But he had been the one to find the art works. Gainsborough's Yellow Boy, the arms of the Venus de Milo, Beethoven's Tenth Symphony, the full length Mona Lisa, Van Gogh's 'other' self portrait... They all had one thing in common.
Finishing the last of his espresso, he left a tip and ducked into a nearby alley. Paris was conveniently well provided with dark alleyways. One of his old friends was on the Louvre's custodial staff. Maybe Leo could help.
Landing out of sight a block or so away from the famous art gallery, Clark spun back into street clothes. There was a cafe nearby where the custodial staff tended to spend their breaks. If he was to find Leo anywhere, it would be there.
The cafe was busy at this time of day, full of workers heading to- or from- their places of employment. This particular cafe catered more towards the lower working class. It was respectable but not fancy, and had a local reputation of good food and strong coffee for low prices, making it one of the more popular cafes in this area of Paris.
Spotting Leo near the back of the crowded eatery, Clark adroitly made his way towards his quarry.
“Bonjour, Leo.” Clark greeted his acquaintance in flawless French.
“Clark! I hadn't heard you were back in town. Where were you this time?”
“Brussels. I got back last night.”
“Are you in town long?” As he spoke, Leo gestured towards a newly freed table nearby. Quickly Clark sat, knowing that if he didn't the table would soon be claimed by someone else.
“No, I have to be in Vienna by the end of the week.”
“They don't give you much time off between assignments.”
“I don't mind” Clark said quietly. Work gave him something to do other than Superman duties or brood about Lois Lane.
He switched back to English, knowing that it would make their conversation harder to follow for anyone who happened to be listening in.
“There's a story circulating that the arms of the Venus de Milo have been taken off exhibit without explanation.”
Leo's face darkened. “We- the custodial staff- were told that they'd been removed for cleaning and restoration.”
“Funny” Clark remarked. “I saw them when I visited the Louvre a month or so ago. They didn't seem to be in any need of restoration then. Did something... untoward... happen?”
“They didn't need any work done. “ Leo stated baldly. He lowered his voice. “Pascal- a friend of mine- works in the restorations department. He said that the arms weren't slated for any work to be done for almost 2 years. And- they haven't been logged into the restorations department.”
“So where are they?”
Leo shrugged. “No one knows.” He looked at his watch. “I must go. Marie will be expecting me.” With that, he got up and exited the cafe, leaving Clark lost in thought.
* * * * *
Clark entered the crowded space that constituted the European bureau of the Daily Planet. It was always a bit of a rabbit warren, but at the moment it was worse than usual. Most of the travelling correspondents were back in Paris, preparing for the European leaders summit in Vienna at the end of the week.
Threading his way between the desks, he finally arrived at the editor's office. Tapping on the door, he waited for the reply of 'enter' before opening the door and sticking his head inside the office.
“Joe? Do you have a minute?”
Joe Patterson, editor in chief of the European bureau, looked up from the papers he was studying. He was close to being Perry White's polar opposite. Tall and lanky, he seemed to talk, move and think at double speed. It had taken Clark a few weeks to get used to him, but he'd recognised that Joe was almost as canny and insightful as Perry White. With that knowledge had come respect.
“Sure Kent, what do you need?”
Clark settled into the chair in front of the editor's desk and outlined what he'd found. He leaned forward. “I think there's something there. The thing is, I don't have time to investigate it until after the summit. And by then...”
“By then, more of the artworks may have disappeared.” Joe concluded. “I don't have any other reporters free until then either. Between this summit and the usual news team, I just can't spare any one.”
Tentatively, Clark put forward the idea that had occurred to him at the cafe.
“What about the Metropolis office?”
Joe sat forward. “You want to see if Perry White will send someone over?”
“Well, the artworks are on loan from the Metropolis Museum of Art.” Clark pointed out.
Joe thought it over for a few moments. “Okay. Get in touch with Perry.”
Clark nodded and left the office. Scanning the room, he found a temporarily vacant desk and logged on to the computer. He spent comparatively little time in the office, so he didn't have a desk of his own. It had irked him at first, but he'd learned to adapt.
Opening up the email program, he sat for a second, mentally composing what he wanted to say.
“Chief
I came across something over here today. The arms of the Venus de Milo have been taken off exhibit at the Louvre- apparently for restoration. What got my attention is it's the second major artwork that's been removed for 'restoration' in a week that was found in the vault under Metropolis by Superman two years ago. The restorations department at the Louvre has no record of the arms entering their department.
It could be coincidence, but I don't think it is. Neither does Joe.
The problem is, we're short staffed here. I don't have time to investigate and Joe can't spare anyone. Can you help?
Clark
“I didn't know Perry knew how to use email” Joe commented from behind him.
Clark turned .“Jimmy Olsen taught him how to use it a couple of months ago. Now he's signed up to just about every Elvis mailing list there is.”
He'd laughed when he'd gotten the email from Jimmy. Knowing Perry's previous reluctance to use computers, he'd agreed with Jimmy's comment that collecting more Elvis trivia was the only thing that could've convinced him that they were anything more than fancy typewriters. Now Clark got regular emails from Perry and Jimmy- and the occasional one from Lois. He pushed that thought out of his head. Closing the email program, he set to work writing his latest report on the plane crash that had taken him to Brussels.
