Flying over the city had its advantages. Clark wondered if when Batman was scaling one wall or another, he ever had any embarrassing oops moments when the building's inhabitants were doing it like extra-horny rabbits. X-ray vision made that a real problem at times.

Flying also meant that he could see that Batman was standing on the roof of one building, brooding, and Catwoman was crouched on the roof three buildings over, looking like she was brooding, too. He wondered if he should maybe tell her that Batman was there, or vice-versa, but it wasn't like he was exactly qualified for Dear Abby.

He'd been reading Bruce's files on various perps, like the Joker, and even he had a girlfriend. A nutjob of a girlfriend, but it's not like the Joker would really want a normal one. Sometimes it made Clark want to stand on the roof of a building and brood, too. Except Batman looked like he fit among all the gargoyles and such, and Catwoman looked hot no matter what, but unless he dressed in black, too, he'd stand out like a sore thumb. Probably somebody would come up and ask him to autograph something, which happened a lot these days. He really liked that when he was in the mood, but not when he was thinking about the gaping void in his life labeled "Girlfriend--or lack thereof." In his case, "especially lack thereof."

Crime had slowed down a lot after those first two nights. Dad had been really pissed about that and about the editorial on television. It had made him look as though he wasn't in control any longer. People were asking questions about whether it really made that much financial sense for the city to privatize so many of the criminal system functions to LuthorCorp. That, plus the people arguing that putting prisons and public safety in private hands was giving the system incentives to act against the best interests of the public, could put a lot of his Civil Revitalization Initiative back under questioning. It wouldn't put it at risk, Dad was too good at maneuvering for that, but it was a nuisance for him.

Which meant that Clark was flying around on patrol in case anything happened. He'd stopped the usual levels of muggings, burglary, and petty arson, but nothing that seemed as unleashed as those nights. He'd also stopped some domestic violence, or at least he hoped he had. That was really depressing.

Maybe he could get in a quick visit to the Kents. Talking things over with Mr. Kent actually helped. Well, a lot of the time it helped. Talking with Lex or Batman kept everything complicated. Lex was always so oblique, even just in letters, and Batman, well, he couldn't make two plus two simple. But when he talked with Mr. Kent, it was like solid ground. Maybe it was being a farmer. Cows were definitely complicated inside, especially with all the stomachs, but dealing with them was straightforward. They hadn't even looked very surprised the time he'd buzzed them.

A few minutes later he was knocking at the Kent's door. Mrs. Kent was mixing something and called to him to come in, then hugged him when she saw who it was. He really liked that, and even more when she sat him down at the table and gave him a cup of coffee in a mug, like he was family, and remembered that he liked almost a third milk. She could even tell that he didn't want to talk about Gotham City. Or at least not yet.

"How's the writing going? We saw some of your stories in the Daily Planet. You really have a gift for description."

"I'm still figuring out how to interview people. It's hard to know what to ask. You want them to tell their stories themselves but it comes out messy."

"Isn't a good editor supposed to help with that?"

"Yeah, but when you freelance, you can't always count on it."

"You know, Chloe Sullivan edits the school paper and I bet she'd love to help you with it."

"Would she really?" Wow, Chloe editing his writing. They'd have to spend a lot of time together then. Or at least a lot of time sending email to one another. She might get to wondering how he was writing from Gotham City and visiting Smallville every few days. Lionel had given him a lot of money, so he could pretend that he just flew in each week, that he was on a trust fund as long as he worked. That way, she wouldn't think he was some kind of guy version of Paris Hilton. Who was definitely hot, but he didn't think that Chloe would think much of her.

"Why don't you call her? I think I have her number here, or they're in the book."

"That'd be great. Thanks!"

Jonathan Kent came in, went over to Martha and kissed her on the cheek, then looked at Clark as though there was something funny happening soon but Clark wouldn't see it for a few minutes. "Clark, could you help me get some of the feed into the barn?"

Clark got up and was definitely suspicious when Martha followed them out. It wasn't anything to do with the truck, since he just grabbed a bag of feed and nodded for Clark to take the others. He followed Jonathan into the barn and dropped the bags in the corner where Jonathan dropped his.

"Go up to the loft, Clark, there's something we want you to take a look at."

The loft had been full of hay bales before, but now it was all clear, with a sofa and a desk and a short bookcase. "Uh, you decorated it." There must be something big he was missing.

"Do you like it?" Martha Kent was standing on the steps with her arm around her husband's waist. "We thought you needed some place to get away."

"It's for me?"

"You sounded pretty burned out. Someplace that would be yours and where you could be alone when you needed to."

"That's...wow, thanks." He looked around at it again. "I didn't even know it's what I needed."