Part 3: Slip

Clark was feeling pretty good. Nothing strange had happened and after talking to Dr. Klein about his apparent ‘sleepwalking incident’, he was fairly confident he had gotten over the effects of the crazy purple kryptonite.

Of course, Clark could have done without the scientist's excited questions (apparently Dr. Klein was oblivious to his unease), but at least it seemed like the hiccup was over.

He spent the rest of the day with his parents, enjoying everything that came with Smallville and life on a farm. By the time evening had come, he was ready for bed and fell asleep soon after hitting the pillow.

“Ready for bed, Martha?” Jonathan asked, now finished with the dishes. He had instructed Clark to leave the dishes to him, especially since Clark had cooked dinner for them.

“Yeah, just want to finish reading this chapter,” she said, flipping a page in a mystery she was going through.

“Alright, that’ll give me a chan--” Jonathan paused as Clark came back into the kitchen. “Is something wrong, son?”

“The hexagon is the most efficient shape,” Clark stated, going to a cabinet and opening it up as he began humming.

“Clark?” Martha asked, flashing Jonathan a concerned look.

“I wonder who is singing. She has a very nice voice,” he muttered to himself. “Wish I understood what she was saying though.”

“Son?” Jonathan asked.

“Hm?” he asked.

“What are you hearing?” he asked carefully.

“A woman. She hums too. She makes very pretty shapes as well. But they’re a little too bright. The man makes them better. His voice is firmer though,” Clark said, even as he continued rummaging in the cabinets, searching.

“What are you looking for?” Martha asked.

“Diamonds.”

“Diamonds, why?” Martha asked, confused.

“They focus light the best,” he stated.

“Are you going to build something?” Jonathan asked.

“I want to check something. Look at one. Do we have any diamonds?” he asked.

“If you promise not to hurt it, you can look at my wedding ring. It has one,” Martha proposed.

Clark beamed. “Okay! Thanks!”

Martha carefully took off her wedding ring that she had not removed for over twenty years and gave it to him.

Clark gently took it and brought it up to his face, less than an inch from his nose. He gasped.

“The man was right! Hexagons are everywhere! Look!” he said, holding the ring out to her. “You have to tilt it, but I can see it. A little crumpled, but the structure is there. Weird.”

“Okay,” she said, taking the ring back from him.

“Son, I think it’s time for bed. You have work tomorrow,” Jonathan interjected.

“Hm. It’s so tight. But I suppose it’s okay,” Clark commented. “Helps me sleep.”

“Tight?” Martha asked.

“Something around me. Not sure why the woman always does it.”

“Let’s get you to bed, son,” Jonathan said, placing his hand on his elbow.

“Love you, Dad, Mom,” he said as they led him to his room.

“Love you too. Now try to sleep now. We’ll talk in the morning,” Martha said, adjusting the blankets for him.

He didn’t answer. He was out cold.

O o O o O

He was sitting at his parents’ kitchen table again. Work was in an hour, but that wasn’t a problem.

“What am I going to do?” Clark asked.

Martha and Jonathan didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t expect a response as he continued.

“Maybe I can leave sticky notes around the house before I go to bed? Tell myself to go back to sleep?” he asked.

“It’s worth a try,” Jonathan said. “You didn’t really push back when we took you back to bed.”

“I still can’t believe I’m sleepwalking,” he said while shaking his head. “What on earth is happening? It’s almost as if--” Clark’s eyes widened, realization dawning. “They’re memories! They have to be!”

Martha gasped. “You’re remembering Jor-El and Lara?!”

“That’s the only thing that makes sense,” Clark said, dazed.

Jonathan squeezed his shoulder supportively.

"Maybe knowing what they are will help stop it," Clark said, suddenly hopeful.

"Do you want to stay here for the next few nights to be sure? Since getting to and from work isn't a problem?" Martha asked.

"Maybe. Do you think I should update Dr. Klein?"

"I think that would be prudent. He might have some ideas that might help," Martha said.

"I'll have to try to talk to him after work. I don't have time now," Clark decided.

"Alright, son. Call if you need us," Jonathan said.

"Sure thing, Dad."

O o O o O

Lois prided herself on being fairly observant, so when Clark came in for work, she knew his weekend had not been as relaxing as he had hoped. He didn't look sad, but he did look weary. She hoped everything was okay with his parents. She knew he had gone back to Smallville for the weekend but that was all she knew.

Unfortunately, she wasn't able to inquire about his weekend because Perry immediately gave them an assignment that required swift action.

There was a hostage situation at the First National Bank so they needed to get there immediately.

And, as par for the course, Clark had somehow gotten separated from her on the way there.

She wasn’t sure if she should be amused by the predictable event or annoyed. At least she wasn’t surprised.

The sonic boom sounded overhead and she smiled, assured it would be over quickly now. And hey, maybe she’d be able to ask Superman about what he had written at the park. She knew the public was dying to know what that was about exactly. She hoped he’d tell her if she asked. She felt if he’d answer anyone, it would be her.

Approaching the press line, the SWAT team was prepped and ready to go as Superman landed beside the one who seemed to be the head of the operation.

Lois really wondered why criminals even bothered now with Superman around since the whole thing was over in less than thirty seconds a minute later.

With all the hostages now safe, Lois used her press pass to get beyond the police tape and spoke to a few of the officers she knew. It really was nice to have connections. Knowing Clark, he'd somehow get statements from the crowd and they'd be able to make a nice cohesive article as soon as they got back to the Planet.

"Thanks, Superman," the Captain said before Lois stopped at the outer edge of the little pow-wow. After briefly glancing at Lois, he refocused on Superman. "On the off chance, do you feel these men might have any connections to the group responsible for the robbery you stopped a few weeks ago?"

"I think they could be," Superman said just as a ray of sunlight suddenly gleamed between the buildings behind the Captain and shined directly onto his face. He squinted briefly from the abrupt brightness before continuing. "Lah grileshin himolkahm tal ahmetziolan esho shekyugam. Bahgakimolt eeyezish."

Lois and everyone within earshot froze and simply turned and stared, not sure what they had just heard, and by the look on Superman, neither did he.

"Superman?" the Captain asked, bemused and a little concerned.

"Et timasha evet---" Superman frowned and closed his eyes for a few seconds before reopening them. With everyone still staring at him, he took a deep breath and shook his head. "Sorry, I slipped into speaking Kryptonian. But in answer to your question, yes, their equipment and the way they spoke to each other suggested they're part of the same group. Family operated potentially."

"Mafia?" the Captain asked, deciding to just ignore the odd lapse of . . . whatever that was from Superman.

"Or something similar," Superman said.

"Okay, thanks again, Superman," the Captain said.

With a nod, Superman disappeared. Lois felt he left in a rush.

What on earth had just happened?

Superman had just spoken . . . Kryptonian? She supposed it would make sense that English wasn't his first language, but she had never really thought about it before. How many languages did he know? Did he have to concentrate whenever he spoke something different from his mother tongue?

But that didn't seem right. In the twenty or so months she had known him, he had never 'slipped' before. Why had he now?

And though Superman had appeared to shrug the incident off, she was certain he had been surprised, if not outright alarmed by it.

Was he okay?

She shook herself and quickly got what she needed to write the article before flagging down a taxi. Hopefully Clark would meet her back at the Planet.

O o O o O

Clark returned to the Planet and forced himself to remain calm and act normal. He had no idea what had made him start speaking Kryptonian - a language that up to that point he had no clue how to speak at all. Well, he could speak it now, and while he wasn't suddenly fluent in it, he felt he could probably get by well enough if he was touring a country that spoke it.

He sighed, both heartened and disheartened.

He now knew his people's language.

But he had no one to speak it with.

He knew a dead language.

The hours dragged on and he did his best to not make Lois worried. He felt he was doing a fair job, even told her about his weekend (sans purple kryptonite), but he shouldn't have assumed it would end there.

"You doing okay?" she asked as they were finishing a bit of research on the recent robberies.

"Yeah, just didn't sleep well last night," he said with grimace.

"Hm, well, if you would like, I can finish up here and you can head home. Take a half day," she suggested.

Clark straightened in surprise. "Really, Lois?"

"Sure, we've already written a good article today, and made a lot of ground for future articles," she said, unbothered.

"Thanks, Lois, I really could use some sleep," he said. "But let me help you finish this at least."

She nodded, pleased, before growing serious. "Do you think Superman sleeps?"

"I think he does, though he probably doesn't need as much as we do," he said, a little confused by the change in topic. "Why?"

"At the bank this morning, he was talking with the police captain after it was over," she said, trying to decide how to explain. "And he just started talking a different language by accident. He did a pretty good job shrugging it off when he returned to English, but I could tell he was pretty troubled that he had done that. So I'm wondering if he did it because he was tired. Although . . . there was that thing he had written on the sidewalk this weekend. I don't know. Have you spoken to him recently?" she asked.

"No, but I'll let you know when I do."

"Thanks, Clark. I hope he's okay," she said.

"Me too," Clark said honestly.

O o O o O

A/N: Next week I'll be on vacation and doubt I'll be able to post much, so I'll go ahead and try to post a part a day before I head out.

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