Disclaimer: I own nothing. Quotes from the beginning are taken directly from the Man of Steel Trailer.

AN: Just a short bunny with likely other short follow-ups also inspired by quote from the trailer.

"The world's too big mom."

"Then make it small. Focus on my voice," she held him closer, "Pretend it's an island, out on the ocean. Can you see it?"

"I see it."

It helped during the day, to focus on the sound of his mother. On the sounds of home. In a bright and loud world, the warm voice of his mother sheltered and calmed him. When overwhelmed by all the noises, sights, and sensations it helped to close his eyes and focus on one sound. Strange how calming the simple act of listening to Ma breathe was. Until Pa passed.

She tried to hide it, but Clark could hear it. He could hear the occasional hitch in her breath, see the occasional glance around the room, and often he could feel his mother's pain, adding to his own. He was glad his mother's voice still calmed him, but in her silence, the pain throbbed throughout the air, so much he felt a physical ache. It was easier to extend his hearing to other sounds, brighter sounds; laughter, the wind, anything to distract him from the unnerving silence surrounding him. In the months after Pa's passing, Clark made a bearable peace with the warmth of day.

But the night still tormented Clark. Leaving Smallville behind had been quite easy. Without Pa, it was no longer the Kent farm. His home once brought about feelings of safety and comfort, now left Clark feeling nothing but emptiness. Only Ma made him feel anything at all. So it was only natural for him to agree to the move closer to Ma's remaining family. He was hoping to replace the unnerving quiet of Smallville could with new and more colourful sounds.

Clark had been preparing for the increased noise as he travelled across the country. Despite this, LA had been overwhelming. The diverse barrage of sound during the day was expected, but the setting of sun was when he found himself wishing once again to be normal. The sounds of its nightlife were constantly underscored by the screams of pain, violence, and suffering. It took Clark all of his focus not to flinch at each sound, Ma had enough to worry about with Pa gone. He hoped when he got to Sunnydale that the quiet of a small town would welcome him to his new home.

But the screams of the nighttime followed: only made worse by the silence accompanying them. At least, in Los Angeles the hum and thrum of the city's night life could distract him from every despairing sob or hysteric scream. But in Sunnydale, the screams of pain were alone, hopelessly piercing the night. Every struggle in an alley, every cry of pain, and every gasping breath sounded clearly in Clark's ears as though it were happening right in front of him.

But then one night something changed, something interrupted the never ending cycle. The scream of fear was tragically cut short just like every time before it. And Clark closed his eyes, trying desperately to block out each strained gurgle as life left the victim's body. But then it stopped.

At the sound of flesh striking flesh, Clark was surprised. When a body struck a nearby wall, Clark opened his eyes. And when a desperate gasp for life sounded, Clark dared to hope. Something was happening, something different, maybe something good.

He closed his eyes in concentration, hoping to get a better idea of what was happening. The victim was likely alive, but her breathing was laboured and weak. If she didn't get medical attention soon things likely wouldn't end well. Clark felt the same old conflict rise within him, but fell back on routine; it was safer for him and his mother if he kept himself a secret. Revealing himself to others was something he could never take back.

As he listened, he heard two people fighting, one much heavier set than the other, but to Clark it sounded as though they were evenly matched. A few blows were traded with not much quarter given by either combatant, when suddenly the smaller one dealt a heavy blow.

The larger fighter, a man, growled in response, "You're going to regret that girley."

Clark opened his eyes in surprise. It took him a moment to refocus his attention to catch the tail end of her reply, "—and you're still ugly."

Clark couldn't help but cock an eyebrow. He wasn't that familiar with physical confrontations, but it seemed like the female involved had a unique sense of witty banter. With a snarl the man resumed their fight.

The two continued to trade heavy blows, with Clark wincing at the occasional crash into nearby obstacles. Their fight came to a sudden stop when the previously ignored woman let out a small moan. Clark assumed the two paused to take stock of her condition

"Looks like my snack wants me to finish," the man sneered before slowly scraping his foot along the ground, "It'd only take a moment—"

The cartilage of his nose breaking resonated in Clark's ears, "Don't you dare touch her!"

"You Bitch!" the man screamed. His voice was slightly muffled; he was obviously grabbing at his face.

"You know, normally I'd have loved to keep dancing with you," the female commented nonchalantly as she began a more brutal assault, "But, this lady needs help and you're getting in the way."

As suddenly as it began, the fight stopped. Clark strained his ears, hoping to hear the result. But for all intents and purposes, the man had seemingly disappeared. Frowning in concentration, he heard the female bend over the victim before gently picking her up.

"Ok, let's get you to the hospital, pronto," with that, the victim's female savior took off at a quick pace, her heels clacking loudly against the pavement. Clark was impressed by both her actions and her ability to fight considering her footwear. The only worrisome part of this turn of events was the fate of the man. While he obviously didn't condone the man's violent attack of the woman, but Clark couldn't help but wonder at the attacker's fate.

A few seconds later, Clark heard the recognizable sounds of an emergency room. He listened to the brief conversation taking place as the hospital staff quickly responded to the situation. His ears strained until he heard what he needed.

"She's going to be ok."

And with that, Clark refocused his more than acute hearing on his mother's breathing in the next room. He wasn't sure why, but suddenly he was finding solace in her breathing once more. Maybe because the victim was going to recover. Maybe because something had broken his vicious nighttime cycle. Or maybe because someone had finally stood up to do what's right. Whatever the reason, Clark felt an emotion he hadn't in months.

Hope was alive in Sunnydale.

AN: Please let me know what you think!