It was an injury, that began the tale.
A rather grave injury, by Clark's standards, though maybe it was more accurate to say by Superman's standards, for it was in uniform this occurred. Another of Lex Luthor's attempts on him. Two kryptonite bullets had pierced his family's crest and lodged in his chest, all before he'd known what was happening. He wasn't sure how Lex had managed it, but it was effective, though not as lethal as he'd hoped.
He'd gotten lucky.
He was airborne, flying upon the sudden impact, and those kryptonite bullets precipitated an immediate, spectacular descent to land: a dizzying free-fall, sky and ground, blue skies and gray skyscrapers and asphalt roads and concrete pavement coming in and out of focus, wind rippling through his hair, his mantle, roaring past his ears as the all too familiar, immobilizing weakness and nausea ran through him.
The fall probably did not last long, he could at least say that. However it did not feel that way to him, afterwards as he laid there, flat on the ground but somehow still spinning. Fortunately, he did not lay alone there long. It was the Flash who reached him first and quickly assured him. Though to Superman at that point, as the kryptonite continued to work its magic, its poison, he was little more than a blur of reddish orange, hovering over him with a familiar voice.
"Hey Supes. Some dive just now. I'd give you 10's just for the sheer number of revolutions you made, but sadly the judges didn't rate it so kindly. Were on your case because you made too big of a splash entering the water. Don't let them get you down though. We can work on the landing some other time.
"I know, I know. I hear it all the time. Flash, you're just too funny. How do you do it? Just trying to cheer you up, that's all. Let's see what we're working with shall we? Ouch. Okay. Kryptonite strikes again. Geez, Lex, can't you know, maybe shake things up a bit? Try something else once in awhile?
"But don't worry. We'll get you back to the Tower. Get you patched up. Good as new. Just hang in there while the cavalry take care of things."
His eyes were involuntarily closed at that point, but he heard the signs of the cavalry at work:
An outraged battle cry from Wonder Woman, whose sound alone would bring most to their knees, and the scream of metal striking metal.
The distinct and peculiar hum of the Green Lantern's ring in action.
Then the rustle of fluttering wings, landing down beside him, to the Flash's great relief, as he further elaborated.
"And here you go! Your ticket out of here. All aboard the Hawkgirl Express."
As heartening as all of those sounds were, and the feeling of being lifted up into the air by strong arms, away from this place was, he couldn't help searching for and not finding, only to wonder where the rhythmic rumble of the Batjet's engines was amongst all the cacophony.
Clark woke up in the Tower, laying alone in a chill, dimly lit room, covered by a thin blanket, out of his uniform, instead garbed simply in shorts, bare-chested except for a bandage, wrapping itself around his ribs.
He looked for a clock, or a calendar, wondered how long he had been out for, was surprised to see it had not simply been hours. It had been days since that battle.
But just as it had been on the battlefield, he did not have to wait alone there long in that dizzying confusion. The sliding doors swished open, and J'onn entered the room, as stately and subdued as always, and approached the bed to stand by his side.
"How did everything go?" Clark asked, surprised at the sound of his voice. Not as steady or clear as he'd hoped it would be. More of a croaking whisper.
J'onn's expression remained unchanged.
"Fine. Another crisis averted."
Clark took a sigh of relief.
"Thank goodness. Any other injuries?"
"Only minor. Everyone is resting, but otherwise fine. They will be happy to hear you have awoken. They have been quite worried."
J'onn, for knowing so much about the inner lives of everyone around him, was always sparse with his descriptions. Careful and discreet about and with his abilities. Only brought attention to them when it was necessary. Otherwise, he simply kept his own counsel.
Clark did not envy him, that particular power. He had seen the toll it could take on J'onn at times. The amount of mediation and solitude it required for him to manage that amount of information, and felt guilty to have inadvertently added to that burden.
"Sorry about that. I know it gets to you."
J'onn furrowed his brow ever so lightly. It was an unusual thing for Clark to say, personal, and he knew that J'onn was a deeply private man, but these were unusual circumstances.
Clark himself was a deeply private man, was not entirely at ease with the thought that he had been laying here unconscious for days, or able to entirely gracefully accept that even though he was now conscious, he could still not easily move from this bed. He mused that when one's own walls have come down, it is easier to see past the walls of others.
"Thank you for your sympathies, but you do not need to apologize for being shot." J'onn paused a moment, as though to give Clark time to ponder that, and when phrased like that, it did sound foolish. However, that did lead Clark nicely to his next question.
"J'onn, the bullet was removed, right?"
"It was."
"Then why do I still feel so bad?"
"Some of the Kryptonite dissolved within your body."
That would explain it. For though this was familiar, he'd never felt Kryptonite quite like this, for it had never been delivered unto him quite like this. It felt everywhere at once, and he rested his head more heavily upon the pillow underneath it at this news.
"Another great discovery of Lex's?" He attempted to joke.
"Indeed." Was J'onn's solemn reply.
"So I might be laying down for awhile?" Clark ventured reluctantly, knowing it but not quite able to admit it. Yet, J'onn had no such troubles in knowing or admitting.
"Most definitely."