Clark turned over and then lifted his head from the pillow. He could definitely hear the sound of somebody rapidly going through drawers and then strange mutterings. He tried to use his x-ray vision but whoever the searchers were, they were inconsiderately out of his line of vision, which meant he had to get out of bed to go find out what was happening.

He followed the sounds which were soon replaced by rustling and a kind of rhythmic crunching. When he turned the next corner, he could see directly into the kitchen. J'onn was sitting behind a pile of cookies and making fast inroads.

When he noticed Clark, he rapidly finished chewing and nodded a greeting. "It's hard to believe that you all take these so lightly."He gestured expansively at the cookies. "Delicious. A perfect food."

Clark wasn't sure if it would trigger a war between aliens if he actually took one and decided that it didn't matter since he wanted a sandwich instead. Rummaging in the refrigerator, he asked, "You don't have cookies on Mars?"

"Nothing like these."

Clark continued with turkey, ham, and a few slices of cheddar. He balanced another slice of tomato on top of those and wondered if peanut butter would be a good addition or just disgusting.

J'onn put down a cookie mid-bite. "Bruce Wayne told me as much as he knows about your story. That you were found in Smallville, Kansas, shortly after a meteor shower."

Clark nodded, eying J'onn over the top of his sandwich. "Clark, before my...before my people were destroyed, we had centers of learning of all kinds, including observatories. A meteor shower that did not originate in this solar system was an astonishing event and our scientists' analyses were widely disseminated.

"They traced the shower to a particular planet that orbited a red sun. Or rather, to the remnants of that planet."

Clark nodded slowly, trying to absorb both the statements and the concepts they opened up. J'onn seemed to recognize this and paused before continuing. "What was on that planet, how it was destroyed, or who lived there, we did not learn. But the meteor shower did not follow the patterns it would have had it been undirected. It was sent to this planet. Your arrival here was no accident."

So he wasn't just a piece of space debris that happened to land here. It wasn't random.

"They did not understand why this would be. Why would a destroyed planet's remains take this specific path? This and the other questions were a seven day's wonder and then replaced by other topics. But your presence, Clark, suggests the answer to that question. You were sent here to preserve you from your home's destruction." J'onn's voice deepened. "It may mean that like me, you are the last of your race. That is a loneliness. But I hope that we can both say that we have found others of our kind."

Lionel sat back and contemplated the cards he held. His suspicions that Batman was the one secretly trumping several of his better ones were becoming stronger. He'd eliminated the remnants of the city's elite as possible leaders of the increasingly frequent obstacles to his acquisitions. Then there were the feckless, such as Bruce Wayne, who'd unknowingly given him access to half the downtown area by handing over a pile of old papers that he'd "never actually looked at." Wayne had been far more interested in talking about when the country club's golf course might be restored.

Lionel had used his access to the city records to find properties of future value whose ownership had even the slightest possible ambiguity and manipulated the records to show that he had purchased them years ago. Sometimes it was as easy as deleting and replacing a computer file, other times it involved more intricate forgeries. But to his irritation, other documents were showing up to counter his claims, often as or more convincing than his own.

There wasn't a pattern that benefited a specific other person or interest. So far, the documents were all in favor of the original owners who hadn't the sense to establish their rights beyond all question. He knew that they weren't originals or recent rediscoveries because he'd destroyed those originals and made sure that the depositories where they were found had nothing of the sort. Somebody was sabotaging his operations. Somebody who either wasn't pursuing personal gain or was even more clever than Lionel in disguising it. Somebody who was able to break into systems and buildings with equal ease. Somebody who was doing a disconcertingly good job of tracking Lionel's movements and anticipating his next moves.

Fortunately, he had a weapon to hand.

Clark entered Lionel's office with an expectant and yet suspicious expression on his face and took a seat, looking Lionel right in the eye as he moved the chair to a more advantageous spot. Lionel chuckled to himself as he put his lightly folded hands on the desk.

"You miss Lex, don't you."

Clark's expression of suspicion deepened at Lionel's sympathetic tone. "This separation has been more difficult than I had anticipated. For both of you." Clark continued to eye him watchfully and Lionel could imagine Clark weighing each nuance in the words and the sentences. What was genuine and what feigned, where did the potential threats lie, what advantages might be gained, where, in the displays of strengths, were there hints of weaknesses? "That's why—provided that you're able to complete a task for me—I want to return to our earlier situation. I'll release Lex and of course that releases you from your...obligations to me."

Clark's face showed his emotions too easily at this prospect, but Lionel refrained from instinctively chiding him for this. Instead, he continued. "I need you to identify Batman for me."

"That's it?"

"That's it. Just identify him."

"But I don't know who he is! Nobody does."

"But you'll be able to find out. After all, you have access to him, you've worked together, you must have a thousand ways of finding out, even if he doesn't trust you enough to tell you. Or if you don't think that would work, you can learn who he does confide in." After letting that sink in for a moment, he got up, adding briskly, "How much time do you need? A week? That should be quite reasonable." He left a stunned and subdued Clark behind, then watched from the video camera as Clark rose and headed slowly to the elevators.

AN: And why the Muse decided to poke me with a sharp stick now, who knows? Sigh, I just do as I'm told. (Except by my boss or people like him.)