A/N: I'd promised myself not to post any more unfinished fanfics, but somebody posted a challenge that reminded me of something on my hard-drive. I'll try to post maybe once a week-ish, although since I don't have consistent wi-fi (aside from my phone), there may be some lapses in the posting schedule. That said, if you haven't run off screaming already, here is part 1 and I hope you enjoy. 
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O Brother, Where Art Thou?
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Aimee Renaud stormed out of the kitchen as soon as she heard her son entering the house. “What were you thinking?!” she thundered before he'd even finished closing the door.
Her son blinked at her in confusion. “Hello to you too, Mother. Is this the greeting I get after three months away?”
“Michel, this is serious!” she snapped, folding her arms. “Why didn't you at least tell us what you were planning to do? We're your parents, Michel!”
Michel looked even more confused. “But, Mother, I've been talking about this trip for months,” he began.
“I'm not talking about your volcanoes!” shouted his mother. “I'm talking about the space station! That outfit! What did you think you were doing?!”
“Space station?” Michel echoed. “Mother, I have not been to any space station. What on Earth are you talking about?”
Aimee was on the verge of hyper-ventilating. She turned to her husband, who was just now coming down the stairs. “Jean-Paul?” she pleaded, feebly.
“Son, if you were going to pull a stunt like that, you really should have discussed it with us,” Jean-Paul scolded, echoing his wife. “I thought we made it clear that these abilities of yours need to be kept secret! Where did you even get that ridiculous outfit?”
Michel sighed. “Papa, I have no idea what either of you are talking about,” he said. “I don't know about any space station, I haven't been using my—ah, 'gifts', and I certainly haven't been wearing any ridiculous outfits! What is going on?”
His parents fell silent, and for a moment, they only stared at each other. “You don't know what's been happening?” his father asked.
Michel shook his head. “I just came back from studying the underground volcanic activity in Bialya,” he reminded them. “I've literally been under a rock!”
His parents were silent again. Finally, his mother crossed the room and turned on the television. The news was on, and after a few moments, Michel found himself staring at the screen in shock. His parents turned to watch him, apparently studying his expression.
“He,” Michel began, sputtering as he stared in disbelief at the footage from an American news outlet. “He looks....” Michel sank into his father's old armchair, and his voice became very quiet as his mind tried to process what he was seeing. “...He looks like me.”
**********
Clark Kent was feeling discouraged when he walked into the Daily Planet newsroom. The weeks following Superman's debut had been more chaotic than he could ever have imagined. Everyone, it seemed, wanted a piece of the superhero. Lex Luthor, especially, wanted *several* pieces of the superhero—perhaps mounted on his wall. Then, there was Lois...
He took a step backward as he realized that Lois was now striding toward him with a grin that would frighten a shark. “Conference room,” she ordered, and he dared not disobey. Once they were seated at the table, Lois seemed to falter for a moment. Finally, she leaned forward. “Okay, ground rules,” she said. “This is *my* story, *my* exclusive. My name goes first on the by-line. Got it?”
Clark slowly nodded. “All right,” he said. “What is it?”
“Superman,” Lois replied. “And believe me, it's big. I wouldn't normally share something like this, but...” She scratched absently at the fading mosquito bites on her arm. “Never mind. Just remember that it's mine first.”
He nodded again. “Right. Your story. So, what is it?” he repeated, mentally reviewing his morning activities in an effort to figure out what had her so agitated.
Lois took a deep breath and let the words out in a rush. “Superman has a secret identity.”
“What?!” Clark stared at her in shock, then quickly covered his growing terror with a laugh. “Lois, what would make you think a thing like that?”
“I saw him,” Lois replied with conviction. “He walked right into the Planet, Clark! He was in disguise, but believe me, I could easily recognize him.”
Clark's stomach began to sink. “H-how did you recognize him?” he stammered, his mind reeling.
Lois waved a hand in the air. “Oh, please,” she said. “I'm the best investigative reporter for the best paper in the country. There's no way I wouldn't notice those gorgeous brown eyes, that chiseled jaw...” She sighed, lost in her reverie.
“Um, Lois?” Clark asked, warily.
“Right,” said Lois, coming back to the present. “He's posing as a geologist.”
It took a moment for her words to register. “What?” he asked.
“I know, right?” said Lois. “Maybe he figures he won't be discovered if his disguise is somebody completely dull and uninteresting. He actually came to me—asked me if I could 'get in touch with Superman' for him.” She smirked. “It was obviously a test-run: I know him better than anybody else on the planet, so if he could slip by me, he'd be in the clear.”
Clark frowned.
“I didn't tell him I was on to him, of course,” Lois continued. “I didn't want to scare him off before I figured out why he's trying to blend in with normal people. I mean, is this like that thing where a king disguises himself as a peasant to find out what's going on with the common people, or does he actually want some kind of a normal life? I guess I can't blame him if that's the case,” she decided. “Fame is pretty hard on people. Anyway, I've got Jimmy following up on that fake name he gave me.” She leaned back in her chair, looking pretty smug.
Clark stared at her, at a complete loss for words. Before he could try to respond, they were interrupted by Jimmy tapping on the door.
“Dr. Michel Renaud, Ph.D.,” Jimmy said without preamble once Lois had let him in. He dropped a stack of printouts onto the table. “27 years old, graduated with honors from the University of Paris, had a paper published last year on the effects of magma pressure on magnesium deposits. Last known residence is an apartment in Saint-Denis that he's been renting for five years. His parents are both professors at the Sorbonne; his father teaches history, and his mother teaches 18th century literature. No criminal record, except for a speeding ticket in England, nine years ago—he reportedly claimed that it was only because his car had French plates.”
Lois stared at the stack in dismay.
“Anything else, Lois?” Jimmy asked.
“This can't be the same person,” Lois protested, picking up one of the papers and glaring at it.
Jimmy shrugged. “Well, see for yourself,” he said, rifling through the stack and pulling out a few pages that had pictures. He handed one to Lois. “Here's a photo of him and his parents, taken last year for a local paper.”
Lois crinkled her nose and flung the printout down onto the table. “Well, they're obviously not his real parents,” she declared. “They don't look anything like him.”
Clark stared at the photo.
“I guess he's adopted, then,” Jimmy concluded.
Clark continued to stare at the photo.
Lois slumped in her seat. “Well, I guess this was a bust,” she muttered. She looked through the rest of the printouts with a despondent sigh. “You know, looking at him again, he's just so...dorky. I can't believe I thought he looked like Superman!”
Jimmy stared hard at the page Lois was holding. “Actually,” he said, his forehead crinkling, “I think he kind of looks a lot like CK!”
TBC
