Clark was surprised, the next time he woke, to find Bruce sitting by his bedside. The only one in the room with him. The lights were still dim. The air was still chill.

It was strange, to see Bruce like this: simply sitting. Not reading nor researching, not planning nor plotting. Simply sitting, in this still room with him, and though Clark was the one in repose, it was a rare moment of rest for Bruce as well. Though that rare moment came to an end with Clark's continued attempts to come into consciousness.

Bruce was looking at him, but he did not speak. Only waited, for Clark to get his bearings – and he did so slowly – and though Clark had previously wondered about and waited for Bruce's presence, and had been so grateful for his arrival, he now felt acutely embarrassed to have Bruce see him like this. Struggling to even rise to sitting. His first attempt to simply raise his torso failed. He was startled to find he needed to roll over to one side and press up with his arms.

And even that was not enough, he could not carry out the motion in its entirety, was stuck halfway through, had to pause, in this awkward hunch, and while he was paused there, until his arms recovered enough to push him all the way up, out of the corner of his eye he saw Bruce's shoulders flex and tense.

It was a truly minute gesture, however, for a man who often remained still as a statue, it was noticeable, and it seemed as though Bruce was in a struggle of his own, that he could not decide which was worse: to witness and allow Clark the independent ordeal of rising on his own, or to intervene and assist him.

Clark briefly considered floating, but knew he did not have the capacity for it. Could not control it nor keep his balance while doing so, would only cause more problems for himself, and he was able to finally push his way into sitting, resting against the headboard and the wall, and sparing them the need to linger on those particular questions any longer.

Bruce still had not spoken, and neither had Clark, but in an attempt to manage his own awkwardness, Clark tried for levity with his first words.

"Did you figure it out?" Though with his drowsy delivery of this, along with his quiet voice, that levity did not come across. It only confused.

"Figure what out?" Bruce replied. Serious, as always, but with a bite.

"What Lex did to me." Clark clarified, and he knew that Bruce was realizing he had overheard that earlier conversation. He knew how that bothered Bruce – Clark hearing things he shouldn't, that he had no business hearing – but Bruce made no reference to that. Only answered the question.

"Enough. The outer shell of the bullet dissolved, the inner hard shell remained."

Clark looked down, saw the bandages still wrapped around his chest. Saw Bruce eyeing them too. Once again tried for levity.

"I see Lex decided to widen his options. Two in one."

Once again, it did not work, for Bruce only scowled as he corrected, "Three. Two forms of kryptonite along with the injury of shooting you with them."

An uncomfortable silence formed. He could tell Bruce was upset. Clark wasn't sure if he was mad at Clark for his carelessness, angry with himself for not being there, or if Lex's chosen method was too reminiscent of his parents, the memory that haunted him, the two shots that started him down this path all those years ago.

Fortunately, the sliding doors whooshed open, and someone else came in to the room to interrupt that silence. More accurately multiple someones, as Bruce would no doubt correct.

"Hey, Big Blue! Geez, you're still down, huh? Kind of freaks me out… but look who's here! Hey Bats! Heard the Joker got a bit out of hand." Wally greeted, the first one in the door, followed closely by Diana.

"Oh, so that is why you couldn't join us the other day." she added, with a slight teasing tone.

"Unfortunately." Bruce acknowledged.

"Gotham City needs him. What can he say… Central City feels the same about the Flash. You know… me. They feel that way about me… but how are you doing, Supes? Still laying low I see. Are you hungry? Has anybody been feeding you? They know you need food right? I'm gonna go get you food. I'll be right back."

In a flash Wally was gone, and in a flash he was back, arms ladened with trays in danger of toppling over.

"Okay, so I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I got you a bit of everything. The burgers are good, but so's the pasta, so I got that too. For dessert, I got you some pie, some muffins, got you a cookie. Wasn't sure what you wanted to drink, I like me some soda, myself, so I grabbed that, also got you some juice… Bats, what are you looking at me for like that? Oh, right. You never eat this 'junk,' am I right? Diana, back me up. This stuff's good, right?"

"Wally, I am in good health at the moment, and this is making me nauseous." Diana remarked, as their attention went to the room's double doors sliding open to reveal Shayera and John, who waved in greeting as they took in the scene.

"What smells so terrible in here? Oh, Wally's idea of cuisine. Of course." Shayera joked, joining the now crowded room.

"Come on, it's really not that bad. Just to prove it, I'll ask J'onn now. He's back there, right? He should be out here anyways... J'onn! What do you think of this food? It's good, right? I mean, we serve it here at the Tower! I'm not the only that thinks this!"

J'onn did come out from the adjoining room, but remained silent, which prompted the other John to speak in his place. "You do remember the man was just shot, right?"

"But it's Supes!" Wally interjected, while then turning to Clark. "And what do you say? I mean yours is the opinion that matters most here."

While Clark appreciated the gesture, he knew he would not be able to partake in any of the food Wally had put before him, and had to admit, once again reluctantly.

"I really don't have much of an appetite at the moment…"

"…That's the worst news I've heard all day." Wally remarked, his shoulders slumping down as he said it, and though it at first sounded like joke, Clark and the others realized quickly it wasn't, at least, not in Wally's eyes, and when Wally's bubble of enthusiasm burst, the rest of the room quickly followed, and though they chatted for a few more minutes, Clark was surprised how draining this visit felt, in comparison to how uplifting their previous one had been.

They left shortly after, in single file, with well wishes for a speedy recovery, and promises to check in on him again soon. All except Bruce, who remained seated where he was, and J'onn.

"Maybe your proposal for accommodations would be for the best..." J'onn addressed Bruce.

Bruce only nodded, as though he had never had any doubt in the correctness of his proposal. The only problem was that Clark did not know what Bruce's proposal was, and when they said nothing further, he was forced to ask.

"What proposal would that be?"

"You didn't hear that part?" Bruce asked, though Clark knew him well enough to know he was amused, the way his voice lightened, and the corners of his mouth tilted up. Only ever so slightly.

Bruce's idea of a joke. He always did enjoy being one step ahead of everyone else, and wasn't in any hurry to give up his advantage, even after Clark shook his head, so it was J'onn who explained.

"Bruce had proposed moving you from here to his manor, where you could further recuperate. I was not sure it was necessary, but after seeing the others…"

"Your condition is too distracting to the other League members. You are so rarely injured; I suspected this would happen. You are stable, there is no further treatment required, only bedrest, so there is no need for you to stay here. At the Manor, you can recuperate in peace."

This proposal took Clark so far aback that he made his third attempt at levity to cover it up.

"That's the most I've heard you talk at once in awhile, Bruce."

And, this time, third time's a charm, it worked.

"Funny." Bruce retorted. And that was it, the moment had passed. Back to business.

"Meet me in the docking bay. We leave shortly."

Then Bruce simply stood up and left the room, leaving Clark to muse to J'onn.

"You know, he didn't actually ask me."

"Accommodations here are sparse. You will be better cared for and more comfortable at the Manor. Bruce… despite not consulting with others, does have an overwhelming tendency to be correct."

That was an elegant way of putting it. But truly, Bruce's "overwhelming tendency to be correct" was why, though Bruce did not consult others, they went out of their way to consult him. Still, this proposal made him uncomfortable. More levity. More deflections.

"Well, at least it will be easier on you, J'onn. I'll be out of your hair."

As usual for today, this did not go well.

"I do not have hair, Clark." was J'onn's reply. Clark doubted this was because J'onn had not heard the expression. J'onn was a brilliant man. Perhaps he did not want Clark avoiding the subject. Or perhaps, because Clark could understand what it was to have to conform to a culture and species that were not one's own.

Or perhaps, and most likely, Clark was overthinking all this.

Maybe he had been wrong. That was J'onn's idea of returning his joke.

But Clark had taken so long to reply, that J'onn spoke first, to confirm.

"So you'll be going, then?" And Clark had to think about this for a moment. Though it grieved him, he recognized he still needed assistance. That he could not return to his own apartment, and he had seen for himself the effect his recuperation was having here.

"...Yes, I suppose I will."

There was a heavy pause after he said this.

"You have doubts?" J'onn asked, though he already knew, and Clark answered, though J'onn already knew.

"I do."

"You do not believe you will be well cared for?"

"It's not that… It's… though I believe you, that the Tower is not the best place for me to rest, I imagine the Manor might have its own unforeseen difficulties."

"It is an intense place, befitting an intense man."

"I've visited plenty, but I've never stayed there before."

"I imagine few can say they have. A rare invitation, indeed."

"You still think it's a good idea?" Clark questioned, somewhat hesitantly, J'onn's agreement with his doubts doing nothing to convince him, but the solidity of J'onn's next statement did.

"I do."

It was enough to bring back some of that previous levity, better placed this time.

"At the very least, it should be interesting. Though I'm not sure what his greater priority is, my recovery or the League's well being."

And though Clark intended that as humorous, J'onn returned to him a serious reply.

"He considers both, but despite how he may seem, he does care for you, Clark. You would never have received this invitation if he didn't. He is not only offering to care for you, he is offering you lodging in his personal stronghold, his family's ancestral home. You will be safe there. Of that I am positive."

When phrased like that, Clark felt somewhat guilty for his previous comments. It was truly a generous offer on Bruce's part, despite the manner in which it was delivered. Still, it was always difficult to tell with Bruce, which led him to his next comment.

"Well, I guess I better get going before he changes his mind…"

"I will assist you to the docking bay, of course." J'onn said, as he brought forth a wheelchair, however while doing so, it seemed J'onn could not help a joke of his own.

"I thought you would prefer this to being carried. But if you would like, I can call Shayera back. I'm sure she would have no objections to flying you once again."

J'onn, unlike Bruce, knew how to present options. Between those two, it was an easy call, and Clark smiled, initially uneasily, but then genuinely, after seeing the absurdity of it all.

"Thanks, but I'll take the chair."