Clark helped rebuild Metropolis in the parts that were destroyed (obliterated, really).
In the hours after he'd defeated Zod, he'd felt unstoppable; the adrenaline rushing through his veins had prompted him to soar through the air at lightning speeds, letting go of everything as he shouted that he'd done it, he'd done it, he'd saved humankind!
Reality caught up quickly, though. It was hard to miss the crater he'd left in the landscape, even from the stratosphere; glass spires, roads, metal, and people alike all turned into grey dust. There was a desert where the city should be.
He was the first rescue team. Paramedics had to come from the next city. Long before they arrived, he was calling himself hoarse—both from exhaustion and emotion—and listening desperately for any answering cries. There were some, but too few, not enough. When his ears detected a scream for help, or sometimes simply a pained gasp, he would dig through the debris with all his might, trying to catch that fragile piece of life.
Clark knew he was a coward when he couldn't bear to meet the eyes of his victims.
Lois kept him grounded throughout. She constantly reminded him about the fact that he wasn't responsible for the annihilation—Zod and his crew were. They were trying to obliterate the entire Earth and Clark had suffered so much to stop them. It wasn't his fault that there were a few casualties along the way. It was unavoidable. He couldn't save everybody. There were hundreds of thousands of casualties, true, but they were barely a hundredth of a percent of the entire human race.
"Open your eyes to everyone you did save," she said, "and don't forget that it was Zod's world engine that toppled those skyscrapers in the first place."
"People aren't just numbers," he replied. "I'll be fine; I just need a little breathing room."
Deep down inside, he knew he was at least partially responsible. If not for the initial wreckage, then most certainly for the subsequent devastation. Now that he had time for reflection, he was shocked at the rage he had felt for Zod, the pure, undiluted desire to rip Zod to pieces for trying to exterminate Clark's people.
Clark had always thought he had a tight rein on his anger; that was what his father had taught him, after all. All those years of bullying and shame, and he'd never acted on his desires. In time, the anger dwindled until he felt nothing but pity. Inevitably, those bullies were weak, insecure, utterly pathetic people. They could never hurt him, so Clark forgave them, though he still stood up for those the bullies targeted. He was always careful not to hurt anyone, though, and a show of strength was usually enough to stop the bullies in their tracks. If not, he endured their hits until they realised that his willpower prevailed.
This ferocity was entirely new. This fury was entirely new. This vengeful beast was entirely new. The focus, though, was not new. He had always kept his view small; he had closed his eyes to what was happening around him. For a long time, his entire world had been his mother and his father. Then it was just his mother. Now, he admits that Lois is there, too.
On his quest to discover his origins, to find his identity, he'd saved other people, whenever he could. But they had stumbled into his periphery by chance; when their tragedies were happening right before his eyes, of course he had to do something to help. He never sought out those who were under distress.
It has been decades, but he still remembers her voice vividly, can still hear those words that helped him cope with the overwhelming stimulus around him, the same words that he'd taken to heart ever since.
The world's too big, Mom.
Then make it small.
Superman is what people are calling his alter-ego, now. He's not really sure if his mother's words are good advice anymore, not for Superman, who has to have the entire world in his mind's eye. A movie is going to come out any day now, titled Man of Steel. He knows he will not watch it. The movie would just be a polished embellishment on reality.
In those intense moments of rage and pain, Zod had taken up his entire attention. The buildings that had shattered around them were simply background noise. How ironic that someone with extremely heightened senses could be deaf to the cries around him. He should have driven Zod away from the city, towards the farms and deserts of more rural areas. He could've done it. This is a fact that Clark is sure of, and one that he can barely acknowledge, even to himself.
Hell, there had been a chance with Zod, and he could've taken it. Just for a moment, when he first walked up to Zod, who was down and bewailing his predetermined destiny as Kryton's defender, there had been a connection. Clark should have opened his mouth and conveyed the hope of his father's words, notions of choices and compassion and doing the right thing. Maybe it wouldn't have been enough. Maybe Zod was too far gone for mere words to coax him back. But Clark should have tried.
Looking back, he is sure that giving the villain a second chance is what a hero would have done. But all he felt at that moment was the tangible presence of Lois behind him and the danger Zod represented. So he let the seconds trickle through his fingertips while his jaw remained clamped shut.
As they had fought, as they left Lois behind, and as everything crumpled around them, Clark began to have second thoughts. Here was the one person who was the remaining link to his biological race, one of the only people who personally knew his real father and mother. Maybe Clark shouldn't kill Zod, just yet. Though, even with this new resolve, Clark should have realised that with someone so embittered with his loss, the choice was out of Clark's hands.
He had finally got Zod into a headlock, but it was no use. With Zod's desperate ultimatum and his death beam directed at that screaming family, Clark had acted. It was those people's lives or Zod's. The choice was clear. Lois found him there in that building, in the same pose that Zod had been in. He let out his frustration once, and bitterly wondered if there was something else he could have done. Clark could have turned Zod around bodily, could have flown up with Zod, could have done any number of things to redirect his beam. Even so, after a few reassurances from Lois, Clark quickly got over Zod, who had tried to commit an unthinkable genocide. The elation that then filled him surprised him at first, but it made sense in hindsight—Clark had felt the burden of the entire world lifting off his shoulders; he'd saved everybody!
In the weeks following his battle, Clark wondered how he could have been so naïve. Some of those who were connected with the victims—family, friends—were angry with him. Others were not. The government immediately painted him as their hero, and most of the country eagerly lapped it up. He didn't know what the rest of the world thought of him. He tended to avoid most news outlets, nowadays. He was being cowardly with that, too.
Clark had firmly declined the government's insistence that he work with counter-terrorist agencies, though he knew that they were still hefting him up in front of other countries as a show of America's strength.
"I'm a human before I'm American," he explained, when they demanded to know why he would not help keep his country safe. That was all the clarification he offered. He wouldn't interfere with this Earthly matter; he wouldn't take sides, take up arms against people just because they had another perspective on right and wrong. To be fair, he would have to remain neutral. Morality wasn't so objective, especially when the government was concerned. It was best not to get tangled in their affairs, or the squabbles that arose between different groups of people. He would remain anonymous. That was what his father had taught him.
He knew the government wouldn't leave him alone, so he gave them the slip and adorned his old identity, Clark Kent. They would track him down, eventually. Clark would deal with that, when it came.
He gave one last speech to the world as Superman, on a stage before millions, as people flooded every inch of available space before him and cameras flashed in his eyes. The stimulus was almost overwhelming, but Lois was there, so he coped. Clark tried to sound confident and heroic as he explained about his origins, Krypton, Zod, terraforming, the close call they'd all experienced. The excuses came easily: Zod was responsible for destroying Metropolis, and there hadn't been time to end the fight less messily.
Clark explained his reasoning about taking sides in human quarrels. He promised to watch out for any future extraterrestrial threats, and then he finally left and shed his confining suit.
He helped rebuild many of the skyscrapers; he was faster and more nimble than any crane. When the skeletal frameworks for many buildings sketched themselves onto the landscape and he was not needed anymore for heavy-duty lifting, he left to wander the world. Lois had resisted at first, and had threatened to follow him, but he was always a lone wolf and a wanderer at heart, and he needed time and space to find himself again.
It has been quite a few years now, and he is finally back. On his travels, he mingled with many people from all over the world: China, Germany, Brazil, Nigeria, and others he couldn't even name. He relished in language barriers and the chance to observe people in their daily lives, to see for himself the good that he had done, to erase the lingering images of that wasteland. As he blended within crowds, he realised that he felt, paradoxically, a sense of belonging and a sense of being utterly alone, at the same time.
The Daily Planet moved its headquarters to New York following the disaster. He took up the mantle of Clark Kent once more and applied for a job there. He was slightly nervous to see Lois again, and he had missed her a lot when he was away. But when he is finally (re-)introduced to her, and he sees her radiant smile, he feels truly happy. The past is behind him. He is ready to move on.
