Clark woke, body aching, eyes opening to take in the cold, dark cave. It took him a second to place himself, but only a second, because the familiar rustle of Bruce in his Batsuit—of Batman—doing something productive, something to get them out of this mess—was only a few feet away. The smell of coffee filled the cave, and it pleased him: homey and heartening, even as his muscles protested sitting up.

"Wake up, sunshine," Bruce said, the barest of smiles audible but not visible. He was crouched beside the fire, a notebook and pen in hand. A tin pot warmed over the coals.

The floor was cold, so Clark moved his bare feet back onto the cot. "Coffee?" He scrubbed at his face, trying to wake up. "You've got coffee?"

"When are you going to get a utility belt, Clark?"

He went for his usual comeback. "Doesn't work with my uni—" and then glanced down, Taking in his near-nakedness, he wrapped Bruce's cape more securely—and modestly—around himself. Then pulled the mangy looking pelt to cover his feet. It was cold.

Bruce put his pen down and from nowhere, produced two collapsible metal cups, pouring them both steaming black coffee. "Sugar?"

Clark cleared his throat, still raspy with sleep. "I'm surprised you've even got coffee—"

"Not every day I get a visitor." Bruce's face was deadpan straight. "Go easy on it," he said as he passed him a small white packet just like the kind at a diner. It was surreal. "No cream, though."

"Guess you could milk a wolf…"

Bruce snorted on his coffee and Clark congratulated himself for making that happen, watched Batman correct his composure. Although… that wasn't completely right. He ripped the packet and poured in the sugar. Bruce had the cowl pulled back, and he'd… Clark had a dim memory of last night and it seemed like Bruce had looked… different. He tried to place how, exactly. Still looked drawn, gaunt. His jaw was clenched too tightly. But looked like Bruce had… "You shaved."

Bruce made a noncommittal kind of noise and picked up his pen again. "Hygiene is important, especially in the field."

"Uh huh." Clark watched him make his careful, neat notes. "Good coffee, Bruce."

"It's terrible, Clark," Bruce said without looking up. "But hot liquids are stimulating."

"Uh huh," Clark said again. "Log book?"

"SOP. I'll add your info as soon as you debrief me."

"Always were a good field commander." Clark's stomach picked that moment to rumble.

Bruce stopped writing to look up at him. "Hungry?"

Clark tried to protest. He was, but…

"How hungry?"

"A little…"

"Hmm." Bruce's brow furrowed. "Not milking wolves—it's bad enough eating them—"

It was Clark's turn to sputter on his coffee. "Wolves? You eat wolves?"

"Don't have to sound so horrified, Clark. Anyway, no wolf for a few days." He grimaced, just slightly. "Caught a r-a rabbit this morning on my rounds." Clark's face must have given him away, because Bruce quickly continued, "But that's not for breakfast either. No rabbit this morning." He reached for something beside him. "I know you don't eat meat anymore—it's just…"

Clark frowned. Bruce was—Batman was rarely at a loss for words. Not with him. He didn't say much, but when he did, he didn't flounder.

"There just isn't much here." Bruce handed him a hard, round, biscuit-like disc. "Try this."

Clark turned the thing over in his hand, then took a tentative bite. It tasted like sawdust, but he iwas/i hungry. Besides, the tightness around Bruce's eyes relaxed when he did it.

"You going to have one?" Clark said around a mouthful of dry, fibrous biscuit.

"How long since you've eaten, Clark?"

"I don't know. Hard to tell here." He polished it off.

"Another?"

Clark could have eaten three more, tasteless as they were. But he got how things were. Instead he said, "No thank you."

Bruce watched him, sipping his coffee. "Your clothes are dry."

"Yeah. Guess I'll put them on." Clark stood, his aching legs warming to movement, and pulled on his pants, partly hidden by Bruce's cape. Dressed from the waist down, he unfastened the thing from his neck and handed it back. "Thanks."

Bruce nodded and poked at the fire with a stick.

Clark pulled the top half of his suit over his head and carried his boots back to the cot, sitting down to put them on. "So," he said, pushing a hand through his hair, "what are 'the rounds' around here?"

"What?"

"You said you made the rounds."

Bruce waved a hand. "Checked my traps; drag snared… some prey. Got to it before the wolves this time. Now I can focus on fixing my—" he shot a look at Clark—"our radio." He stood, moving to a pile of bent metal in the corner. It hadn't registered with Clark until now as anything special—there was plenty of debris from the wreckage of Bruce's ship piled up in corners. "Antenna's broken. Storm must have really come down—or maybe another meteor shower, but I didn't see any excess debris from—"

"Me."

"What?"

"That…" Clark joined him, looking down at the damage he'd done. "That was me, Bruce."

"But that—" Bruce just stared at him, not blinking. "That was two days ago."

"Yeah, I guess. Hard to measure time here. Seems like one long ice storm—"

"I use a thing called a watch, Clark." Bruce was still staring at him. "And two days? Wandering out there for two days?"

"Well—" Clark surveyed the small array of tools Bruce had carefully organized on a ledge halfway up the cave wall. "Good thing you know how to fix it."

Bruce crouched down to turn the twisted metal over, reassessing like he'd just now discovered the damage. "I'm surprised you can walk."

"Got to say," Clark rolled a kink out of his shoulders. "Didn't feel too great when I hit it. Knocked me down for a count."

"Two days out there—without your powers. After hitting this." Bruce whirled on him, arms folded. "You're lucky—" He dug in his belt for another biscuit and shoved it into Clark's hand. "Eat."

He pushed it back. "No, Bruce. I don't need—"

"Eat it." Bruce squeezed his hand, hard, around Clark's own, forcing his hand into a fist around the brittle disc. "No good to anybody if you pass out."

"I'm not going to pass out."

"Just eat it, Clark. Lucky you're even—"

"I'm… I'm okay, Bruce."

Bruce's eyes softened, stopped their glare. He looked away.

Clark gave up and ate the ration. Bruce reached for the row of tools and methodically moved each one a fraction of an inch, realigning them all slightly to the left.

Neither said anything. Finally Clark broke the silence. "I holed up in your first cave."

"What?"

"Your base camp. It was your first base camp, right? Had to be."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about, Clark?"

Clark swallowed the last bit of dry, scratchy biscuit. Wanted to wash it down with coffee, but he'd left it beside the cot. "Wasn't you?"

"Make sense, Superman."

Clark decided to retrieve his cup, still half-full. Besides, it was warmer over there. Bruce followed him. "When I came to, after I smashed into—" He waved an arm at the debris in the corner. "Came to and started looking. Some kind of animal—a big cat thing—"

Bruce nodded. "I've seen them. They usually stay at the higher altitudes—"

"Yeah. Well, this one was hungry. It was closing in on me when I found the cave—that worked. I ducked in. And there were signs. I thought you'd been there."

"What kind of signs?"

"A firepit, fire-ring. Some matches."

"Matches?"

Clark nodded. "I made a fire—scared the thing away. But you weren't there so I kept looking." He shrugged. "And then I finally found you."

"Clark you have to—"

"Show it to you?" Clark grinned, swirling the last of his coffee. Bruce's eyes were suddenly sparkling again. "Yeah. Figured that one out as soon as I realized you didn't know what I was talking about. Surprised you didn't find it already."

"So am I." Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

"There iare/i lots of caves around here. It was just… like you said. Luck."

"More than that. You're very… resourceful. Even without your powers, you—"

"Must be all those times we've partnered together. It's rubbed off, Bruce."

Bruce's eyes crinkled at the corners.

Clark stared at the fire and smiled to himself, too.

"Well," Bruce finally said, standing and dusting off his hands. "Guess we'll need to get you outfitted for travel, Superman. Don't have to tell you—this arctic zone's brutal."