Bruce was locked up in his bedroom, still in bed at 1:30 in the afternoon. Clark knocked and asked to come in and talk with Bruce. Bruce gave no answer. After about fifteen minutes of bargaining with nobody, Clark forced the door open. He had enough control over his super strength to force open the lock without breaking the door down. However, the lock was destroyed. Clark went to Bruce's side and pulled back the covers. Bruce's hair was disheveled and there was some stubble on his chin. Bruce turned away from Clark.

"Bruce, what's wrong?" asked Clark.

Bruce still refused to answer. He only stared off into space as if Clark were not even in the room.

"Bruce I'm worried about you," said Clark.

Still, there was no answer.

"Bruce, does this have something to do with the night we busted the Reigning Skulls?"

Bruce didn't answer, but a brief pained expression in his face and an attempt to cover his head with a pillow was enough to clue Clark in.

"What happened that night?"

There was still no answer from the now covered figure. Clark took the pillow from over Bruce's head. Bruce moved on to his stomach with his head in folded arms. Clark was becoming frustrated. He remembered what Dick said about Bruce's non-responsiveness to direct questioning, but now did not seem like the time for games. Something was really the matter and Clark didn't like the toll it was taking on Bruce. However, Clark did not have a lot of options, so he decided to take the roundabout route.

"Fine, you don't have to tell me anything, just give me some sign that you're okay. If I know that you're okay, I swear I'll drop the whole thing," said Clark.

Bruce did nothing.

So he's not okay, Clark thought to himself. Clark spoke in a hushed tone. "You know Bruce, whatever this is, I'm sure you're getting too upset over it. You're a perfectionist, but not everything can work out perfectly. As a matter of fact, most things don't work out perfectly. You can't let that bother you."

There was still no response from Bruce.

God, this is like talking to a wall. Clark didn't know what to do and he was getting frustrated. "Dammit Bruce, talk to me, do something, say something. Tell me to mind my own business, throw me out, just do something!"

There was still no answer from Bruce. He didn't even stir.

"Fine, we'll just stay like this then. I'll sit here and you'll lie there and we'll just stay like this for the rest of our lives."

Bruce arose onto his arms with a look of despair. His eyes ran across the room as if he were looking for something. He was also looking through Clark as if he wasn't there. Clark feared for his friend's sanity.

Clark lightly touched Bruce's arm and said, "What is it Bruce? What's wrong?"

Now tears were running down Bruce's face, but he wasn't sobbing. "Where's my pillow?"

"What?" asked a surprise Clark.

"My pillow. The blue pillow, I couldn't find it. I don't know where it is, and I can't find it."

"It's okay Bruce. You can use this one," Clark presented Bruce with the pillow he had recently taken from over his head.

"No, that's not the blue one. I have to find it."

"Why?"

"I have to find it."

"Okay, okay, I'll help you look. Where'd you last see it?"

"I don't remember." Bruce was beginning to get really upset. "I don't remember, and I have to find it. I can't find it, and . . . and . . . I can't find it . . . and I need it."

"It's okay Bruce we'll find it."

"I can't find it, and I can't . . . I can't do anything, anymore."

"Of course you can."

"No. I do . . . everything I touch . . . I do it wrong."

"That's not true. You hardly do anything wrong, Bruce."

"I messed up."

"No you didn't."

"Yes, I did."

"How did you mess up?"

Bruce didn't answer.

"Bruce, please talk to me. I know something is going on, but . . . Bruce look at yourself. You're absolutely miserable, and everyone who loves you is miserable too. Bruce please, you have to trust someone. I don't know what's going on with you, but it's obviously killing you, and I just can't stand watching it anymore. Bruce please talk to me, please."

"I killed someone."

"What!"

"I killed someone," Bruce said again.

"What happened? When?"

"The . . . it was one of the Reigning Skulls."

"He attacked you?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what happened Bruce."

"I was checking through the building."

"With Wonder Woman?"

"We split up. I found a laptop with . . . names. Skull members I think. This person hit me from behind. I spun around, he pulled a gun on me and he shot. I moved out of the way and he hit the computer, then I knocked the gun out of his hands. Then he tried to punch me, but I moved. I did a roundhouse kick, but I kicked him into a piece of metal. It went . . . it impaled him. He screamed, then he fell over sideways, but he fell into the window. The window was open. We were so high up on that cliff, he fell into the water, and he was gone."

"Bruce why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't know. It happened so quickly I . . . I wasn't even certain it happened. That's not true. I knew it happened. I didn't know . . . I . . ."

"It's okay, but it was an accident, wasn't it?"

"Of course."

"Then you shouldn't feel guilty, Bruce."

"I murdered someone. I took their life."

"No, someone attacked you and you defended yourself and something terrible happened. But you're not to blame."

"You're only saying that because we're friends."

"I am your friend and I care about you, but that doesn't mean I'm delusional. Anyone would agree with me."

"I wouldn't."

"You're too hard on yourself. You're always too hard on yourself."

"Someone died Clark."

"That's terrible, but you aren't a murderer, and if you want me to condemn you that's not going to happen.

"I expected you of all people to be more horrified by this."

"Why?"

"You're just . . . you value human life."

"And you don't?"

"Of course I do, but . . . I don't know."

"Bruce, you're not a murderer."

"I can still see the look on that man's face when that thing went through him. His scream, I have nightmares about it. I've seen too much death in my time. The faces . . . dead faces . . . it's . . . awful."

Clark put his arm around Bruce.

"Everything is going to be okay Bruce. I promise."

"Are you going to tell the others about this."

"No, not if you don't want me to."

"I still don't think I'll be joining you up there for a while."

"You should come up and do some maintenance on the computers and stuff. I'm sure you'll get back into the groove of things. We need you up there. We miss you," said Clark.

"I'm just afraid if I tried to go on a mission, and I was too hesitant, someone could get hurt. I wouldn't mind if it was just me, but I wouldn't want to put the others at risk."

"None of us do. You know, I think that's everyone's worst fear. That they'll do something or not do something and it will lead to someone getting hurt."

"It's a reasonable fear," said Bruce.

"Yeah," said Clark, "I'm going to stay for the night."

"You don't have to."

"I want to. I want to make sure you're okay, so don't even try and stop me."

"I won't. I thought I was determined."

"You are. Where do you think I learned it from?" said Clark with a smile.

Bruce was still in no mood to smile, but he appreciated the gesture.

"Are you hungry, Bruce?" asked Clark.

"No, but I think I should eat something. I can't remember the last thing I ate."

"Good, then I'll cook for you."

"You can cook?"

"Of course. My mom wouldn't let me leave the farm without teaching me something. So what's your pleasure?"

"Anything that doesn't taste like Styrofoam is fine with me."

"Perfect. One Styrofoam free breakfast, coming up."

"Thank you, Clark."

"I haven't made you anything yet."

"That's not why I was saying thank you."

"Oh, well, you're welcome. You're really important to me Bruce, you know that?"

"I guess I do."

"Good. I'm gonna go make breakfast."