AN: Eeeeeeee! I just looked at my story, and minutes after posting the first chapter I find reviews, glorious reviews. I'm just so giddy. Thanks to Greywizard, danielhimura, Kirallie, xwinterangelx, Morgomir, and XanderHalcyon for their reviews, and to RubyPaladin for reviewing and recommending this story. I just feel so happy thanks to all of this attention and the great ratings that I've decided to start the next chapter already.

Normal Guy by AlexTheGray

Chapter 2: Watchtower

Watchtower II, the Moon.

White and gray. Those colors monopolized the stark infirmary, from the strached sheets and painted walls to the brushed steel counters and gleaming medical instruments. The colors were so muted and monotone they made Clark feel like a walking neon sign.

Or a sitting neon sign.

He always felt strange when he sat in his costume. His cape always managed to wind up underneath him, making the collar pull against his throat. He always squirmed and fidgeted; first he had his arms crossed, then his hands were in his lap, then he was leaning forward, bracing himself on his knees. But if he wasn't sitting he would be pacing, wearing a hole in the floor.

Maybe it wasn't the sitting; maybe it was just the room. The sterile, no-color room. This was the Justice League infirmary; they were superheroes. You'd think they could at least make the recovery rooms a little less like a hospital. Maybe make it a little easier to pretend you weren't sitting next to someone unconcsious and possibly hurt. Make it possible to think about something other than the friends and family that had layed in beds like this, hurt worse than this.

At least there was a way to think about something other than past failures.

The kid in the bed was breathing heavily, almost panting, but still unconcsious. He was still covered in the grime from the canyon and old sweat from the heat, but even in the cool of the air conditioned room, new beads of moisture accumulated on his brow. His eyes moved restlessly behind his eyelids, and he would twitch every few moments. Especially at a new sound. Clark knew that feeling, had experienced the pain the first time he'd developed his super hearing.

He was still wearing the almost blindingly bright red Hawaiian print shirt and baggy canvas shorts he'd been in, but he'd lost the other of his fluorescent green flip-flops when Clark had brought him here.

It had taken less than ten seconds to get the kid out of Earth's atmosphere, up to the Watchtower II, and into a safely climate controlled area. After putting out a request for someone with the skills to examine a person, he'd headed straight for the infirmary. Now it was an hour later, and he was beginning to think that he should have made his request for someone with medical knowledge a bit more urgent.

Looking down at the boy, who couldn't have been more than nineteen, Clark thought that maybe he should have left the boy in a normal hospital, away from the machinations of the frighteningly driven superheroes who resided within these walls. But he had seen the way the boy had clutched at his ears as the world seemed to crash in on him from all sides, the incomprehension and panic when he had found out where he was. No way was this kid normal. Not anymore.

And there was no way he was just going to leave him in a strange hospital where no one would know what to do with him, where the only ones that would know probably couldn't be trusted with him.

So Clark sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair that was really too small for most of the members, and waited for someone to get there. To figure out what was going on.

'Cause Clark had no clue.

Just as he was about to get up to go look for someone to help him, the doors behind him came open with a hissing 'schnict'. Looking over his shoulder, Clark came face to face with J'onn J'onnz, the Martian Manhunter. A grin suddenly splitting his face, Clark came up out of his tiny chair, nearly tripped on the end of his cape, and shook hands with the martian turned police detective despite the sizeable stack of paperwork he held in his arms.

"Sorry to keep you, my friend,"J'onn said. "There was a bit of footage I had to go through before coming here."

When J'onn brought the tomb of paperwork up before him, he felt a wave of dread overtake him. "And I had to stop and get the paperwork you've been putting off," he continued.

"Do I have to?" Clark whined, his shoulders already slumped in defeat. He'd known what the answer was before he'd opened his mouth.

"You know the new rules, Clark," his friend replied, as he always did when asked. "In order for an organization our size to function, we have to know what's going on. Who have we saved, how many hazards are out there, who's gone off to join the enemy. That means paperwork." At the end of his reply he handed the stack over, and turned his attention to the bed at Clark's back.

Moving around his brightly colored friend, J'onn surveyed the boy before him. While the article of clothing he was wearing was nearly as bright as Clarks, the kid himself was startlingly pale, and not just from his current condition. Despite the redish tinge that remained on the tip of his nose, most likely from an already healed sunburn, he looked like he hadn't seen the sun in ages. Coupled with his harsh breathing and claminess, the kid looked worse than bad.

"What do we have here?" he asked, despite already having an idea. It never hurt to check.

"I heard him calling for help in the middle of lunch and flew out," Clark said on the end of a sigh. "Pulled him out of the Grand Canyon. He freaked out when he found out where he was. Said he'd been close to the ocean a few minutes before that. Probably his first experience moving at super sonic speed. Then the next thing I know the kid's on the ground cause everything's too loud, too intense. Probably his first time with super hearing, too."

J'onn spent a minute just staring at the young man struggling to acclimate to his new circumstances before turning back to the Man of Steel. "Kid?"

"Yeah," Clark said cautiously, not understand the look on the other mans (aliens?) face.

"You don't know his name yet?" J'onn asked incredulously.

"He fainted," was Clarks answer, which turned out to be more defensive than intended.

"You didn't check his wallet?"

Clark blinked. "Umm, no?" He could feel the blood rising in his cheeks.

"Why don't you do that now," he suggested patiently.

Clark shuffled over to the bed, feeling like he'd been chastised. Why was it that the people he cared about could make him feel like he was an eleven year old again?

After gingerly turning the boy on his side and reaching into the back pocket not stuffed with a sweaty undershirt, he let him role back onto his back and fliped open the slim wallet. In it he found twelve dollars, all in ones, a ticket stub to something that sounded strongly of nerdy science fiction, a wallet sized picture, and California license, complete with goofy picture taken mid-sneeze. Glancing at the name, he snapped the wallet shut and handed it to the martian. He could find out the rest after J'onn had taken a look.

"Alexander L. Harris," he said. "Of California."

"Well," J'onn said as he walked over to the instrument table and picked up a syringe. Despite his invulnerability, Clark still cringed; needles had, and probably would, always make him squirm. "That's something, at least," J'onn said as if he hadn't noticed the Last Son of Krypton's squeamishness.

Clark tried to look away, to avoid the upset he would have when the needle pierced skin, but paradoxically he couldn't bring himself to look away. It was like he was watching a train wreck (not an actual one; he would stop that); he just couldn't look away.

J'onn took Alexander's arm, prepared him for a short blood-letting, found a vein. He pressed the needle into the crook of the boys elbow, and just as the needle was about to go in... it broke.

AN2: Yay for steely men! A bunch of people have noticed the 'Xander doesn't get much sun' bit from last chapter, so yay again. I think Clark came off a bit... less personable than he's usually portrayed (at least to my knowledge). It's probably because I have this image in my head of Superman being all Mr. Confidence and superhero cool; Clark being all humble and clumsy; and Kal-El, the real Clark, being just an ordinary guy who happens to come from another planet and likes primary colors. Oh well.

AN3: Also, in regards to what version of Superman this story is loyal to, it's not really following any specific canon very closely. You can probably assume that, unless stated otherwise, seasons one through three, with a little bit of four, of Smallville are more or less true, probably excluding most of the season finales. The season four stuff with Lana doesn't really mesh with this story, but the stuff with the girl who could transport herself anywhere is a good example of the taste in women who were bad for him he had then.

Thanks for reading; please review.

ATG

PS: AN4: The spell check won't work. T_T