Clark hated days like this. A child most probably a boy was lying in an alley somewhere crying because his parents were shot in front of him. It was always a boy, Clark thought flying closer to the scene, with black hair and blue eyes who was no older than ten. The parents were always heterosexual as well so it wasn't a hate crime.

He came to a stop an observed the predictable scene before him. Two dead, a shot to the head for the male and one to the chest for the female. The boy would have seen nothing more than a black shape moving quickly and two shots ringing out. He heard him relay this information to the policeman before moving on. There was nothing that Clark could do, he was too late, he was always too late.

There was a mugging that he managed to prevent on his way back to the planet and a robbery that he stopped before anyone could get hurt. But still, as he sat in his chair looking at his screen tying what had happened he couldn't help feeling that same pit of hopelessness.

Not once had he been able to stop this psycho from killing and he doubted he ever would. There would be no evidence to point them in the direction of the actual killer. Instead the DNA would lead them on a wild chase before blaming some corrupt politician or rapist. There was always some good that came out of it, well used to come out of it. Now he and the rest of Metropolis knew that this wasn't high profile mob bosses or anyone else the DNA lead to they had stopped running the prints.

He wondered who was next on his list. The only thing he knew was that he was thorough. He tracked and stalked his prey until he knew everything about them before he made the kill. Clark knew because he could always smell traces him left in the air when he went to the victims houses. How did Clark know it was a he? The natural scent that was left behind was purposeful. He enjoyed the chase and hunt Clark gave and indulged him the second year of his merciless killing with a little personalization.

But again that was a dead end. One week he had spent over the world smelling everything that he could to find this man. But all there was were stories that lead to no where and people who never fit it quite right. The man knew enough to keep his real scent hidden during his stalking hours.

"Everything alright Smallville?" Lois asked sauntering over.

"Another boy," He muttered showing her the article he was writing. He always insisted on running this particular article.

"God," She sighed mournfully "When are they gonna catch this guy?"

"I don't think they will," Clark whispered before going back to his typing. Lois knew by now not to bother him when he was writing this kind of story.

It was sent to print ten minutes later. "Kent!" He heard and heeded Perry's call.

"Yes chief?"

"I need you to go to Gotham," He said to Clark. It seemed that everyone had heard though since all sound ceased. Gotham wasn't a place regularly spoken in conversation.

"Why?" He asked nervously.

"One of the guards has a lead on the parent killer. I thought it might be a good follow up after today's article, make the public think it's safe and all that," he waved off and Clark obeyed knowing when he was dismissed.

"Gotham," Lois said disbelievingly "Nice knowing you Smallville."

It was a damp place that had been abandoned after the earthquake. Everyone who wasn't a former patient at Arkham or a criminal from Blackgate were evacuated to leave the psycho's to die out. But they didn't. The abandoned buildings and opened underground trades they opened up meant that they could build a city so corrupt that no one mentioned it anymore. Not because they were unnerved by what went on. Just the opposite, they didn't know what went on which made them scared. Every dark desire someone had was thrown into Gotham. Every criminal who had committed enough crimes thrown in. Eventually people had started asking for the chair instead of being thrown in.

To be sent there on a lead that someone might know who was killing parents was a long shot. One that Clark was more than willing to try. He was out of options as it was. Thankfully the guards lived on the bridges that separated Gotham and Metropolis. They kept people from going in and alerted the authorities if someone got out.

He hurried home to change and grab his notepad before reading the information Perry had given him. The guard's name was Gordon, a former cop and head of the main guard to the city. He was easy to find. Much like Perry he had a charisma that just let you know when you had found him.

"Gordon?" He asked the man and held his hand out "My name is Clark Kent from the Daily Planet. I heard you had some intel on who's killing the parents."

He had a firm grip despite his age. His face was careworn and lined too much for anyone to have. This job must be taking his life from him.

"I do. It's only a theory but I thought you'd like to hear it," he warned before motioning him inside his office. Clark spared a glance to the devastated buildings that lay not far from it.

"I'd like to hear anything you can tell me. Everything helps," He reassured.

"Well then," He motioned to a seat which Clark took, taking his pad out in the process "This is a story that may seem a little far fetched. That's why I came to you instead of the police. There was this case I worked on years ago when I was a young man much like yourself," He flattered "It was high profile, the Wayne murder."

"I've heard of it. You're saying that the Wayne killer might be the one doing this again?" He asked.

"No. See I might not be a cop anymore since I gave up my job to guard this god forsaken city but I have looked at some of the case files and I always read your articles when they crop up. The similarities between the Wayne murder and these ones are uncanny. Always two parents who walk in a dim alley and are shot. One to the head and the other to the chest every time. It was the same that happened to them. Then there's the child. Always a boy with black hair and blue eyes. That was what little Bruce looked like the night it happened."

"So you think that someone is staging it to look like the Wayne murder. Maybe someone who was there or someone with an obsession. I've heard there's been cases where murders were re-created but to do it so many times..." Clark trailed thinking about this new connection.

"Exactly," Gordon agreed.

"The boy who was there, Bruce. Do you know where he is? If I can get an interview with him?" Clark asked eagerly.

Gordon shook his head "He became a recluse after that night. No one but the butler was allowed near him. Then after the earthquake there was nothing left. It's like he's completely gone," he spoke but his voice held something in it. Doubt.

"Something like that would be scarring on a child," Clark tactfully spoke.

"Indeed," Gordon agreed "I'm afraid that's all I have for you though. Thank you for taking your time to come see me. I hope that you might indulge me and tell when you have any news."

Clark nodded and shook his hand again before breathing in the smell of decay that Gotham drifted over. He felt heavy with so much information. To think that this morning a little boy had just lost his parents to a nameless killer and now Clark had a lead that he could follow up.

It was nearing dinner time and he knew he had no plans to follow up. A quick listen to the world and there was nothing there that couldn't be handled by the police so Clark sped over to an empty phone booth and changed into his Superman uniform.

Gordon had said that Bruce hadn't been seen since the earthquake meaning that until that time he had lived in his home in Gotham. Everyone knew about the Wayne's and how they lived in a manor somewhere on the outskirts. His mother had often remarked when he was a child how much it would be nice to be invited to one of their parties. That was before the murder though. Now he was planning on excavating an abandoned manor for any way of reaching Bruce.

He was reluctant at first to cast his gaze on the wreckage that was Gotham city but knew eventually he had to if he wanted to find the manor. Factory smoke drifted from half built chimneys and Clark could see where repairs had been made. He guessed this was where the rich criminals lived. There was no one on the streets which Clark was thankful for. Rumors of deformed beings had circled the world. All of them inhabiting Gotham at this present moment and Clark wasn't sure he wanted to meet one.

He was on the lookout for some criminals though. The league had heard and pleaded for cases where their rogues were being transferred to this city. They were deemed to unstable for regular prisons and despite the pull the heroes had there was nothing they could do. Villains such as Captain Cold, Clock King, Vertigo, even Bizarro lived here now. How they had got Bizarro to stay in Gotham was still a mystery to Clark.

Pretty soon Clark saw the remains of manors and followed the path of destruction until he came to a wide expanse of land where one sole inhabitant lived. It was majestic in its Georgian beauty and looked untouched from the devastation that had rocked the rest of Gotham.

He listened and was surprised to hear someone moving around inside. Perhaps Bruce never left Gotham. He touched down to the overgrown grass that grew up the sides of the house before making his feet move towards the door, keeping an ear at all times on those footsteps that seemed to mirror his path. He would have thought that they were watching him if not for the lack of shadows or silhouettes at the windows.

He knocked briskly and then again louder. The heartbeat stuttered and Clark knew he'd been heard. No footsteps sounded for a minute so Clark knocked again.

"I'm not here to hurt you!" He called up "My names is Kal El but everyone calls me Superman. Perhaps you've heard of me?" the heartbeat stuttered again and then the footsteps resumed.

They tapped down stairs and padded towards the door where Clark waited politely outside. He heard the man, it was a man he as could tell by the breathing, look to see whether Clark was telling the truth about his identity before the door opened. It was barely a crack.

"What do you want?" A silky voice asked. Clark was embarrassed to say that he didn't answer for two minutes. He was busy replaying that low baritone in his mind and trying to figure out between the musical depths what it was communicating. "What do you want?" It asked again and Clark snapped back.

"To talk. Are you Bruce?" He tried to peer inside but the door followed his line of sight. He was tempted to use his x-ray vision to put a face to that voice.

"No."

"Are you sure? I'm not here to hurt him if that's what you're afraid of," He soothed knowing that this was probably Bruce. The only other person it could be was the butler who Clark was sure wasn't on the other side of that door.

"What do you want?" It asked a third time.

"I'm here about some murder cases. I just want to talk to you, it might save some lives," The door opened a bit so Clark went on "They're similar to the one you witnessed as a child. I was hoping to ask you about what happened that's all. No ulterior motives I promise," He smiled knowing that he was being watched. He tried to make himself as friendly as possible.

The footsteps moved away but the door didn't close so Clark pushed it open a little. When he received no reprimand he stepped inside and followed the fading footsteps into the house. They came to a stop in a parlor room, lavishly decorated and again untouched from the horrors outside.

The man was roughly Clark's age, well his back was. When he turned Clark could conclude that he was right. He was his age. And very handsome.

"So what kind of questions?" Bruce asked sitting down and shakily motioning to one across from him. Gordon was right in him being a recluse. He seemed nervous at the sight of Clark, but that could also be because he was in his Superman costume.

"Er," he trailed losing his train of thought to those pale blue eyes. He had to mentally shake himself before getting back on topic "Right. The night that your parents were murdered," Bruce flinched and Clark made a mental note to be more subtle next time "Do you know who did it?"

"No," He answered with his voice shaking.

"I'm sorry. I know this must be hard but if there was any other way then I wouldn't be here. To be honest you're the only lead I have," Clark confessed. Bruce nodded. "Can you tell me if you remember what the man looked like. It was a man right?" Another nod.

"He had a mask on but for a moment he didn't. I think he was in his mid thirties maybe older, brown eyes but Caucasian and I don't really know how tall or what his hair looked like," he rushed and Clark put his hand on Bruce's knee to reassure him. It didn't work if the strained look he gave Clark was any indication.

"Anything else?" Bruce shook his head.

"I'm sorry. If there was anything else-" He started shaking. Clark almost went in for a hug but remembered what a hand on the knee got him.

"I understand. Listen, thank you for what you've told me. I may have some other questions for you but those can wait until later," He stood and offered his hand to Bruce. He didn't shake it and instead lead him back to the door.

Clark almost slapped himself when he realized he was admiring Bruce's rear. He shouldn't be ogling a man that was obviously troubled. So he looked away and tried to focus on something else. The answer came in a stuffed elephant that was lying on the floor next to the staircase. Clark went over and picked it up.

"Do you have children?" He asked noticing how worn it was but also how recent it would have been made. Definitely after Bruce had hit puberty.

"No," He sighed snatching the elephant out of Clark's hands.

"Oh, well, thank you again."

He left the manor with a last glance at Bruce clutching the stuffed elephant to his chest before he took off back to his apartment. Things seemed dull after Clark left Gotham and his thoughts kept drifting back to Bruce's dark hair that looked so silky as it dropped accidentally on his pale face. It got to a point in the night where he abandoned any morals he had concerning how fragile Bruce was and focused on how handsome he was instead. He figured that he would start repenting tomorrow when he had thoroughly got Bruce out of his system. After the fifth time he came he collapsed back onto his bed giving into the exhaustion that had plagued him for the day.

When he woke up two more sessions thinking about Bruce and blaming it on the fact that he hadn't technically started his day yet proceeded. He was so glad that Perry wasn't expecting him until eleven since he made sure to draw it out to last until nine. After that he washed and made himself breakfast from the sparse things in his kitchen making a note to put on his fridge to get more milk.

He was in the midst of putting the sticky on the fridge when an unfamiliar one caught his eye. He didn't remember writing it and the contents told him why. 'Naughty,' it read 'I definitely wasn't expecting the show when I came over.' The handwriting was long and elegant and Clark was almost afraid to sniff the air. When he did he caught that scent that had been ingrained into his memory for five years.

It was everywhere. He had been here, in his apartment and he hadn't seen him. He hadn't heard or smelt him because he was busy tossing off to thoughts of Bruce! That murderer had invaded his private area, he knew who Clark was and what was worse was the thought that he could have ended everything last night. If only he had been more attentive.

He arrived to work angry. Lois could tell and avoided him until lunch. She pushed some things on his desk aside and made it look like she was reading over the article that he had written up about Gordon's interview.

"So what's wrong?" She asked casually.

"Nothing," He sighed. He felt defeated "The man from yesterday said he might have a lead."

"Yeah, Bruce Wayne," She agreed pointing at where he had put that in his article.

"But I don't think he'll be very much help even if I did manage to persuade Perry to get me into Gotham," Clark sighed thinking back on the fragility of the man. He felt even worse than he thought he would yesterday.

"Why not? Just use you're mad journalist skills and he'll spill everything. And if that fails just bat your pretty eyes," She joked shoving him good naturedly. He felt a bit better joking with Lois like this.

"I don't think he's into men," Clark observed. "So I doubt my pretty eyes will work."

"Why not? If he's a recluse he'll probably do anything that looks human."

Clark laughed and shoved Lois out of her seat with promises of coffee and doughnuts. He printed his article and took it to Perry wondering if he could actually get him to agree to send him to Gotham. It would be pointless following up on Bruce's interview but the people in Gotham itself were as corrupt as it came. Surely one of them might have heard about this killer.

He pleaded his case and was met with a resounding 'no' which was to be expected. After all where would he stay? There would be no one around to help him if he got into trouble. Does he not understand what kind of people live there!

All of this Clark was prepared for and he answered dutifully. He knew that if he went under the guise of Superman he could maybe get Bruce to let him stay while he investigated Gotham and told Perry that he had organised an interview with the reclusive Bruce Wayne. It made Perry pause, no one had heard from the Wayne heir in years and suddenly Clark had an interview? Clark said that he managed to get in touch with him but that he lived in Gotham meaning that to get the interview he would have to go in there.

By four he was packing again and changing into his Superman costume before flying over to Wayne manor. The man was reluctant again to open the door to Clark and he had to persuade him for five minutes before he was shown to the parlor room again.

"I was wondering if you would let me stay here a while," He propositioned and watched Bruce's already pale face turn a sickening white "A week tops. I need to scour Gotham but I'm going to need a base. I wouldn't trust leaving my things anywhere other than here. Please," he begged.

"I don't know," Bruce hesitated.

"You won't even see me. I'll be out probably all day and half the night and you can put me in a bedroom far away from yours," he saw resignation fill Bruce's gaze and felt bad that he was the one to put it there. "Thank you."

Bruce showed him to a bedroom in the east wing and left. Clark tracked those soft pads as they walked away towards the west of the manor. Clark unpacked his things quickly and breathed in the air of safety again. He was happy he was here for more than one reason. If he was honest, he was almost scared to go back to his apartment. It seemed that everything had became unfamiliar. His bed and walls that had housed him since he had came to Metropolis were cold and uninviting. They stank of that murderer.

He changed quickly before leaving by the window and making sure it was left ajar for his return. A pair of civvies that obscured his identity made walking down the streets of Gotham seem less unnerving. That was until he heard a monstrous roar.

It sounded below his feet and Clark stood still to try and pin point where it was. The water was sloshing to much and the heartbeat not recognisable to his ears. The ones below were too fast to be human. The roar sounded again. Clark took two breaths before moving hesitantly along the road again.

He passed no one after two hours of walking. It seemed that everyone preferred indoors which was rather peculiar since all the villains he knew didn't care what time of day they came out. It started to get dark when he got his first lead. It wasn't a person but a smell. That same one that had haunted his apartment this morning.

He took off faster than light to track that smell to its source. Past dim alleys where the lights started flickering on then off again. He dodged ice that had formed from the ice villains and barbed wire that had been left out to trip people up.

Finally he could see someone in the distance. Tall and unmoving, he was crouched on a building with a mask adorning his features. Clark didn't care and barrelled into him. Pinning him to the ground where a waft of that smell came up.

"Finally!" He whooped triumphantly before another scent caught his nose. Stronger and smelling of cotton candy. He turned the man over and the smell didn't change but overpowered the other one. "What?" Clark moaned dropping the man before hauling him back up. "Who are you!" He questioned.

"Oh my God you're Superman!" The man squealed "I am such a huge fan!" Clark sniffed ignoring the comment from him until he found that the parent murderer's scent was coming from a bead wrapped around the man's neck. He pulled it off and held it under his nose before smelling the man again. The smell was gone. He had lead Clark on a fools errand after him. "Can I have your autograph?"

"What? No, now tell me who you are and where you got this?" he held the bead up before coming back to himself "Wait, how did you know I'm Superman?"

"Your curls showing," the man replied bashfully and pointed at Clark's forehead where sure enough the curl was hanging along on his head. "I'm Dick Grayson by the way," He held his hand out in a sign of friendship and Clark was beginning to wonder if he had some kind of mental affliction.

"How did you get this?" He urged.

"Oh, erm I found it. It was in crime alley and I was hoping to give it to Bruce as a birthday present. I think it's one of his mom's," the man replied "Can you put me down now. Not that this isn't totally cool but it's starting to hurt my neck."

Clark sighed and let him drop to the floor. Nimble as a cat he landed on his feet without swaying and stared adoringly at Clark "So you know Bruce?" Clark continued.

"He's kind of my dad. Kind of being that he took me in when I was nine," He rambled.

"What are you doing out here then? Shouldn't you be with him at the manor or even out of this city. You should both be somewhere safe," Clark instructed.

"Bruce wouldn't leave," Dick shrugged "So I stayed too. And as for being out here I was getting the shopping in," He motioned to some bags that were sitting not far from where Dick had been lounging.

"And you decided to sit on a roof top because?" Clark trailed.

"I wanted to make sure that the pearl was safe before I started my way back. Suppose I won't have to worry about that now huh? Say, can you fly me back? If not it's cool, but if you do that would be totally cool!" He gushed.

Clark groaned but agreed and soon had Dick safely dropped off at the manor. He dragged Clark in to see Bruce despite Clark telling him that he was staying the week at the manor anyway.

"But it's getting dark. You don't want to be out there when it's dark, come on, Bruce'll be happy to entertain you," Dick reassured making fantasies of the night before rise in his eyes at the mention of entertainment.

He couldn't help but be dragged along and endure Bruce's frightened look when he came in behind Dick. It seemed he wasn't as adverse to human contact as Clark had been lead to believe since he welcomed a hug from Dick happily. Perhaps it was just strangers.

"And I found this," He announced showing Bruce the pearl he had uncovered. The look that came over Bruce's features was beautiful. It relaxed in a look that everyone wears in shock which made him look so much younger than Clark had initially thought. He couldn't help marvelling at the loss the world suffered the day Bruce became a recluse.

"Where?" He whispered.

"Crime Alley. I've got the others looking for the rest of them," Dick announced proudly before taking Bruce back into his arms. He returned it enthusiastically and Clark wondered how strong those arms were. They certainly looked it. He could see muscles in the arms that people get from hours in the gym.

Then Clark remembered the whole reason that he tracked Dick down in the first place. The murdered had touched or held this pearl and since Dick had said they were scattered in the alley perhaps it was the old Wayne killer back again. They hadn't caught him after all and the Wayne's could be his greatest achievement. It was certainly a possibility he was willing to explore.

"Others?" Clark asked.

"My brother and sister," Dick answered.

"I thought you said you didn't have children?" Clark asked with narrow eyes. Bruce didn't flinch from his gaze.

"I don't."

"They're adopted like me," Dick explained "We're not really his kids but he's as good as my dad."

They shared a smile.

"So what are your brother and sister called?" Clark asked turning the conversation to something light. He knew that it was fruitless to try and escape now. Dick had made it clear on the flight over and before they came to Bruce that he wasn't letting Clark out of his sight until he had signed all of his personal items.

"Jason and Cass," Dick smiled before remembering that he needed to grab his stuff "Stay!" He motioned making Clark sit in one of the chairs.

"So that elephant, whose is it?" Bruce looked unnerved at being drawn into conversation again with Clark.

"Dick's, he brought it with him the night I took him in," he explained avoiding Clark's eyes.

He heard the noisy boy climbing in his room to get God knows what and smiled at the fact that even if Bruce didn't like Clark being there that he wasn't alone in this big house. Dick thundered down the stairs with his arms laden with things for Clark to sign.

"Okay this is my cape from when I was ten. I saw you on TV and they started stocking red capes in the store so I bought one..." And so it continued for his first night in Gotham.

He signed until Bruce ordered Dick to bed and Clark retired also. His closed his window before changing and diving under the luxurious bed that awaited him. The pillows were soft and the mattress pliant under his weary form. But something was off.

Clark looked in the room for what it was until he realised that it was the smell. Bruce had the pearl with him in his room on the other side of the manor so it wasn't that. But the same smell was in the room with him. Seeping into the quilt and pillows.

Clark cast a worried look towards the window that he had kept open for his return. He had came here. To this manor. Following Clark and leaving his message loud for Clark to hear. He couldn't hide from him because this was what he did. He stalked his victims, learning everything about them. And how long had he been stalking Clark. They had been playing this game for years now, there was nothing sacred to Clark anymore.