Clark awoke, flustered, with Lois hovering over him, and the man looming behind her in the background. He quickly checked his watch. Only a couple of minutes had passed. He sat up, managed that just fine, and focused on nothing but the exit, he apologized, unthinking, and unfeeling, he stood up, despite Lois' insistence he wait a few moments, and despite the man's agreement with her.

Whatever this was, this anomaly, it was surely nothing he couldn't deal with later. He was Superman after all, and it wasn't kryptonite, he knew that at least. That was his only real concern, and it wasn't that.

He stood, and Lois hurried to follow him, his long strides, as he gathered both of their things, as they said farewell, one last time. He did not meet the man's eyes and he did not look back, as he opened then closed the door. Did not turn around after he got into the elevator, stayed facing the back wall, gripping the railing.

Lois pressed the button for the ground floor, and addressed his back. "We're getting a cab, and you're getting in it. We're going to your apartment. I'm going up with you. And once we get up there, you are going to explain what the hell just happened back there."

"...They'll gossip."

"Who will?"

"Everyone at the office… We go to an interview, and you calling in afterward to say I'm sick, that we won't be back today..."

"Fuck 'em. I don't care what they think. I care whether you're okay or not, and I strongly believe you are not okay. So take this time to think about what you're going to say to me once we get there. Better be good, Kent. You know you're dealing with the best. And I'm at my limit for bullshit after that interview. God, what an asshole."

"I… thought you handled yourself wonderfully."

"...Thanks. You're still not looking great. Are you gonna be able to walk out of here? I can't really carry you, but you could hold onto my arm, if you want."

"I'll be okay."

"Perry's not as young as he used to be, he might be able to carry you but I wouldn't bet on it. Jimmy'd have trouble too. Well nothing else for it, I guess. If you can't walk out of here, we're sitting in the lobby and I'm calling Bruce. That should be plenty of motivation, right?"

"...Plenty."

"You two are ridiculous, you know that? You know he'd come, if you needed him, don't you? I mean, you have to right? He let you stay at his house, for God's sake, and I know Bruce can be a brute, but I was really grateful he did that for you. Got himself a lot of points in my book with that move.

"You'd drop everything too, if he called you. Why you two can't just admit you're best friends is beyond me. I'd tell him, 'Bruce, get down to the Plaza, you wouldn't believe how this guy manhandled Clark. It was awful. And he's even more of a creep in person.' But he is ridiculously strong. He made picking you up look easy. And I mean, you weigh like… 250? 300? 350? Sounds about right. That guy deadlifted 350. Didn't let out a grunt or anything."

"I noticed that too."

"He really got to you, didn't he?"

"...Yes, he did."

The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and he turned around only to find Lois looking back at him with the same come hell or high water smile as before the interview, except now it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Well then, let's get out of Dodge."

He nodded, and they left the confines of the elevator, and headed straight outside, onto the cement sidewalks, where Lois made fast work of hailing down a cab. Clark wanted to argue with her, that he should be the one doing that, it was poor manners on his part, but then again, Lois had never cared much for such things, and since he did still feel out of sorts, he decided he would just appreciate the gesture on her part, while he took a breath of fresh air and felt the sun on his face.

It wasn't long before a bright yellow cab appeared in front of them and he felt sufficiently rejuvenated to remark. "I've been to Dodge, actually."

"What?" Lois made no attempt to cover her incomprehension.

"It's in Kansas. Dodge City, Kansas."

"...Wow. Alright, Smallville, so you've been to Dodge. Whoop-de-doo. What'd you do there? Needed a change of scenery so you went to look at some wheat fields instead? But you know, that's just like you. The place everyone's running away from? That's the place you're trying to get to. But for now, can you just focus on getting into this cab? Here, I'll even get the door for you. Gentleman, first. Lord knows I'm no lady."

He must have frowned, for before he had even said anything, Lois was already answering.

"I know you've always treated me like a lady. Yet another of the many mind-boggling things about you. You've been to Dodge. Really, Kent. I can't believe you just said that. But seriously, get it in the cab."

Clark reluctantly slid in first, with Lois wasting no time getting in after him, and directing the driver where to go, Clark's address's rolling off her tongue rapid fire.

Clark insisted on paying the cab fare. One of the many instances his super-speed worked to his advantage. He already had the cash in the driver's hand before Lois could complain.

Then they were walking into his building, and it was strange, to have her here with him. Even when they had dated, she had rarely come here. He would go to her place instead. It had just made sense, or at least he had thought so. With his super-speed, why bother having Lois take a cab or the subway when he could be at her apartment near instantaneously. And while he had to pack a box of his things from her apartment at the end, she had never settled in his apartment enough to have that be necessary.

Also, frankly, Lois had the nicer apartment; why spend their time in his matchbox, something he was keenly reminded of after he unlocked the door, Lois tapping her foot in impatience at his side.

He had lived frugally, sustaining himself on half a pay-check while sending the other half to Ma Kent. He supposed it was a habit he had never broken himself of, for even after he got the dubious reward of receiving his full pay-checks after her death, he had not upgraded his space.

Though, that wasn't completely true. He had refrained, thinking he and Lois would move in together. Perhaps that they would move out of apartments entirely, and have a house of their own. Another fantastic fallacy of his, in hindsight.

Lois loved city loving, and loved the freedom an apartment provided, to be able to live in the thick of things, with no mortgage and no maintenance to weigh her down.

And nowadays, he did not enjoy even the extremely limited time he spent here, its walls unbearably close, the messy jumble of smells and sounds from his neighbors cooking and talking and watching television and listening to the radio or records, and from the city itself, its noxious engines and blaring ambulances and air planes roaring, soaring overheard, all concurrent with a million people pounding the pavement together.

That the once understandable desire to reside within this urban jungle was now somehow far out of reach; as was the answer to the question why anyone would trade a view of the horizon for the walls and windows of adjacent buildings.

That they did not compare to the grand and voluminous halls of his home in the Arctic; did not compare to the grand and voluminous skies of his often joked about home-town, no man-made towers or even mountains to mar the sky line, perhaps where his preference had been born.

Or perhaps not.

For the Arctic and Smallville only seemed similar in comparison to Metropolis. Comparing the two of them on their own, they were vastly different. The Arctic was chillingly, shockingly, wonderfully silent, with only the howl of wind occasionally piercing through it, and scentless except for the pervading smell of frozen water.

Smallvillle on the other hand, could be thunderous, he just preferred that cacophony to Metropolis': the screeching chorus of insects, the lulling calls and clucks of cows and chickens, the rumble of farm equipment, and the booming of actual thunder, and fragrant: combinations of grass and hay and mud and manure, the stinging freshness after a rainfall and the soothing smell of sun shining on grass and fields.

He had often wondered how much of his background he played up, exaggerated for the purpose of covering up his superhero activities. Of having grown up a country boy in a small town, with parents who had sustained themselves by working the land, a task that as their son he had greatly assisted with, contending with the wind and the sun and the storms, walking up and down the rows in the fields and driving down dusty, two lane roads.

People had their own assumptions about what that life must have been like, and how it shaped him and his values, but inarguably, those were facts. That was the truth. Not all of the truth, as it did not account for the fact that he had not been born on that land, that he had landed there in a spaceship built for one, and had been born far, far away, but it was true, and people generally regarded Clark Kent as a mild-mannered, soft spoken, law-abiding man. They most likely assumed him to be God-fearing as well.

He was often kidded for being a boy-scout, told and teased that he needed to let loose once in a while. Get out. Live a little.

But after having Superman kidded for those same qualities, both by friends and foes, even by the press occasionally, he had to conclude it wasn't an act. Not entirely. After all, he did not partake in the ample night life of Metropolis, and could not argue this was because he was simply too busy. Bruce – of course – went out all the time, and he was not the only one. He often overheard others at the Justice League sharing events and details of their personal lives, and they did not lead hermetic lives.

Not as Clark tended to do, when left to his own devices. As he was most certainly now left to his own devices, more so than at any other time in his life. He was not drawn home to Kansas, for there was no home in Kansas anymore. The Kents had been a small family. He was all that was left of them.

Neither was he personally tied down to Metropolis. He wasn't wooing Lois as Superman or pursuing her as Clark Kent. He did not even make his occasional visits to Gotham and the Bat-Cave. Not anymore.

If not for his work obligations at the Daily Planet and his participation in the Justice League, he would be a free agent.

Actually, there was one other time in his life, where he was truly and completely untethered, with no obligation or connection to any living thing in the Universe. After his parents had placed him in that rocket and launched him into outer space.

He was not a citizen of Earth then. He was not Clark Kent. He was Kal-El of Krypton. Alone in that capsule, with no one and no where to go back to. Everyone and everything he had ever known destroyed.

There was not a living soul in the Universe who knew his name, or knew where he was, or where he was heading to.

Ma Kent had always framed his adoption as a predetermined act. That God acted in mysterious ways, but had always meant to join them together as mother and son, and he had gladly adopted that view. That he was meant to land where he did, and was meant to be found by the Kents. That it was all apart of a divine and cosmic plan.

Yet now, when he pictured himself in that small vessel, the one he still had in storage in the Arctic, that his father had carefully and painstakingly built to house him for an incredible journey, he felt humbled and afraid, by how truly great a leap of faith that had been, and that it still was, that it truly was faith, and not certainty, for it was easy to say after the fact, it was meant to be, to gloss over the days alone he spent in space, trying to reach a destination that was completely unknown to him, picked solely for its yellow sun and the physical likeness he shared with its natives.

That as strange as it was to lose faith in something after the fact, that was what he was experiencing. His faith waning. He marveled that vessel had held. That it had reached its destination at all. That it had managed to preserve the tiny life held within it.

His life.

And that it had delivered him to a kindly couple who had cared for him, given him a wonderful childhood and kept him safe from the prying eyes of the outside world until he was ready to be seen.

Who had loved him.

Yet, it had.

That had all happened.

Perhaps he had gotten used to that suspension. That he still craved that time alone. Or that he found it comfortable, somehow. Familiar. After all, what horizon went on longer, what sky more huge, than the infinite blackness of space?

Yes, this apartment seemed vary small indeed, the one Lois was now scanning, taking in details with the eyes of a hawk, the lack of food on the kitchen counters, no reading material lying around, as he normally had scattered about when he occupied this space more fully, and the untouched pillows on the couch where they sat down and she turned to him with her conclusion.

"You haven't been living here." She didn't phrase this as a question, because it wasn't one. Clark didn't bother to deny it, only adding. "No dust though." Ma Kent had prided herself on keeping a clean house. He did the same. Aided by the fact he could clean at super-speed.

Lois took a breath, obviously steeling herself, but unusually, elected to drop that subject, returning to the issue at hand.

"What happened back there?"

"…I don't know."

"Was it kryptonite? Could he know who you are? Or is he like Lex? Just wears kryptonite jewelry in the off chance of encountering Superman?"

"It wasn't kryptonite."

"Okay… but work with me here. You passed out, Kent. You don't pass out. I've never even seen you get sick. Guess there's a first time for everything. Do you have a cold?"

"No."

While Clark could attempt to explain what he had experienced, he doubted Lois would be truly interested. She preferred to deal with hard facts, would not be satisfied with vague feelings and impressions. Would not be moved by lofty talk of unknowable things like destiny and fate. She believed people made their own destiny, by using their wits and their wills.

It was a similar mind-set to Bruce's, now that he thought about it. Perhaps one of the reasons he had been drawn to them both. Only now, he wasn't so sure he believed in the old adage, "Opposites attract."

He knew there was nothing he could say here that would satisfy her. This conversation would end on an off note. She would walk out of here frustrated, as would he. But she would be even more frustrated if he said nothing, as she had expressed to him in their previous conversation, so he decided, though it would give no benefit, it would cause no harm either, to tell her a version of the truth.

"I felt a great darkness from him. One that would eventually pull me in."

"...I think you're serious, but just in case this is some weird idea of a joke, or you're trying to get me off the trail of something else, you're being serious, right?"

"Yes."

"…Okay. I'll be keeping an eye on him, alright? And I'll tell you what I find out. Especially where these meetings with Lex go."

"You aren't going to argue with me about that?"

"I asked you to talk to me, didn't I? And you did. Even though you knew I wouldn't like it, and you knew it wouldn't make sense to me, you did it anyway, and I'm grateful. So no, I'm not going to argue with you about a feeling of foreboding. I… believe you. I don't understand it, but I believe you, Clark."

That was unexpected, and he slowly nodded, before expressing some gratitude of his own. "Thank you."

"Yeah, just, don't get mushy on me. You know I'm not comfortable with mushy. But… what about Bruce? Will you ask him what he knows? You know he's keeping an eye on this too. And the League. Promise me you'll ask around. And report back to me what you know. You… don't have to do this all by yourself. I'm still here for you. And they are too. It's why you all formed the League in the first place. So you all didn't have to do everything on your own."

He did not think it would help his case any to say that it hadn't even occurred to him to ask Bruce or the League for information on this man, and he conceded. "...Alright, I'll ask."

"And sooner, rather than later." Lois chided. "I don't want to hear any excuse like, you really didn't want to bother them, they're all busy people. After everything you've done for them, it's the least they can do. I'll go even further, they'd be happy to do it. They would be happy to help you. So ask, alright?"

"I'll ask." Clark repeated, and the edge from Lois' tone dulled.

"Okay. And tell me what they tell you."

"I will." He affirmed.

"Do you still feel bad? You know I'm a crap cook, but I can run and get you some carry out." Lois offered, changing the subject, but Clark shook his head.

"That's alright. I'm not hungry at the moment. I'll… probably just sleep for awhile."

"Here?" Lois, ever curious, ever the reporter.

"Yes." In case she felt the need to get in contact with him again, but also because, despite there being no kryptonite involved, he did feel similarly to how he did under its effects. Dizzy, fatigued. Overall, drained.

"Okay… What about groceries? I can run and get you some of those, so you can cook something later."

"There's enough here." It was true enough. Some instant food he could heat up, and Lois nodded.

"Alright, I'm going to head back to the office then, but I'll call you later, see how you're doing."

"Alright."

"And… I'm not going to push it, but if you ever want to talk about… why there's no fresh food in here for me to prepare you a shit meal, you can. But who knows? May have dodged a bullet on that one – oh, shit, too soon? Yeah, too soon. Okay, I'm getting out of here before I stick my other foot in my mouth."

She rose, and so did he. They walked to the door, and he opened it for her. She looked as though she wanted to protest, but held herself back, instead simply bidding him farewell.

"Bye for now, Clark."

"Bye, Lois."

He closed the door behind her, walked to the bedroom he had not used in weeks, peeled off his sweat soaked clothing, peeled back the covers and sheets then laid down.

He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.