It did not take terribly long. For Clark's powers to return. His strength more and more each day, his flight, his heat vision and his chill breath.
And in that swiftness, he understood, as clearly as he ever had, why Bruce and the others could think him so strange. See him as so different. Out of touch.
Bruce was right. His powers did separate him from humanity.
He was an alien.
He had exploded within himself the energy equivalent of several nuclear bombs, and he regained consciousness within hours. He was fine a few days later.
And he took that for granted, because he honestly didn't see anything all that strange about it anymore.
A 5th dimensional imp had intervened and saved his life, so Venus didn't burn him dead, solely so her man could continue the foolish games he liked to play, at Clark's expense. He had co-founded and was part of a group called the Justice League, who all had costumes and secret identities and took it upon themselves to try and save the world, fighting often against villains who also had costumes and secret identities and who seemed hellbent on burning it down, he had stayed with Batman, who had a secret lair underneath one of the most expensive estates on the East Coast, filled with tools and gadgets and machines funded by the fortune he had inherited when his parents were shot and killed in front of him, and Clark had what basically amounted to his own castle up in the Arctic, now his permanent residence that he had inherited from his parents, after they and the rest of Krypton had been annihilated by the planet itself, that he had escaped from, because his mother and father's idea of a do-it-yourself project on the fly was building a rocket to transport their infant son to a solar system with a yellow sun that would grant him superpowers.
He'd landed in a corn field in Kansas, grew up as a farmer's son, for some reason that was now difficult to grasp had the idea that going into journalism would be fulfilling, but then felt guilty, that he had superpowers and all he wanted was to not have them, so he tried to do both, have both, be both, put on a cape and tights for the first time, kept it a secret from everyone, until he ran into Batman one night, and found out he was Bruce Wayne and then he found him out as Clark Kent, eventually leading him to the formation of said Justice League, and as inconceivable as it was, led him to where he and Bruce were now.
The fact that he'd regained his powers within days of exploding the equivalent energy of several nuclear bombs, seemed pretty cut and dry.
Compared to all that.
And now his days were entirely his own. No Daily Planet. He had plenty of interview requests, but now that the jig was up, it didn't seem much worth it. He wasn't as much of mystery anymore, was he.
He did stop in to the office late one night, though. To tie up loose ends. Because it was the decent thing to do. Because he wanted to see it one more time.
Mr. White was still there, running the ship solo from his captain's chair, as Clark knew he would be.
"Well well. Look what the cat dragged in. Was wondering when you'd finally show." Whether his calm was true or from being too tired to care, Clark couldn't say. Only that Mr. White leaned back, crossed his arms over his head and kicked his legs up. Settling in for a long haul. Instead, Clark cut to the chase. "You've known for a long time, haven't you."
"...I could bullshit you and say no, but yeah Kent. I knew."
Clark had suspected he might, but it was different, hearing it. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because after all the good deeds you did, I thought the least you deserved was a life of you own. Those headlines about Lois leaving Superman for you were pretty hysterical though. And we made a banging buck on 'em."
"You knew even before she did, didn't you?" He asked in amazement, this possibility only suddenly occurring to him.
"She couldn't exactly see you clearly, could she big guy? All those hearts swimming around her eyes. She had all the pieces, but she couldn't quite believe her hero-hubby was the country co-worker whose balls she'd been busting all these years. I know you didn't think she liked you back then, but she did. You didn't see her do that to anybody else, did you? Schoolyard romance rules, teasing the guy she liked cause she was flustered and didn't like it one damn. Lois had decided she was going to be career woman who didn't need a man, and then along you came, messing up all her plans."
He knew he'd had close calls, but he thought he'd always managed to hide himself. That Mr. White had been sitting on this knowledge, knowledge that would have made him a small fortune, and had refrained from saying anything… he barely knew what to say, except, "Thanks for doing that for me, Mr. White. I… really appreciate it. I really liked working here too. I…"
"Your stuff was all gone from your desk. I'm assuming one of your buddies took care of that for you?" Mr. White interrupted, changing the subject before either of them could get too emotional, and Clark nodded. He had picked up the boxes from the Tower, but they remained unpacked, at the fortress, as first Lois, and now Bruce had taken to calling it.
"Good. I'll give you a pass on breaking and entering then. Also, I've been saving this for you. Your last pay check. You did good work here. You okay? Got some savings? They didn't give you a hard time about your account right? Hell, that'd make great advertising. Bank with the bank Superman banks at. You might even see him in the lobby. You taking notes on this? Giving you great ideas here. New career in endorsements.
"I couldn't do that, Mr. White." Clark answered, both sad and bemused, and Mr. White sighed.
"…You could, but I know you wouldn't. Just… know they're going to dig into you, okay? I'll be telling 'em what everyone here who wants to keep their job's gonna be telling 'em. Nothing. Nada. Zippo. Nobody here knew a goddamn thing. Except to say that time Luthor came in here with that monstrosity of a ring and you started throwing up makes a whole lot more sense now.
"As for Lois, well, she's used to answering questions about you that aren't anybody's business. She'll be fine.
"Yeah, you covered your tracks good. Just hope you didn't have a gambling problem nobody knew about, or were a frequent visitor to the red light district. Can't imagine you ever saw a doctor, so you're fine with your non-existent medical records. Oh, you paid your taxes? Didn't forget those, did ya? Dear Lord, Superman's tax returns making national news. What's this business coming to. Anything else you can think of that'll give you trouble? Your birth certificate. Do you even have one?"
"My parents got the county medical examiner to write one up for me."
"They just pick a random day for you then?"
"February 29th."
"Hmm. Interesting choice. You took quite a leap, alright. Well, happy fake birthday for all these years. Now I can ask, what's your actual birthday?"
"35 Eorx."
"Yeah, stick with February 29th. How old were you then? When you got sent off?"
"About two."
"And how long did it take you get to here? From Krypton?"
"Two days."
"What? We've got the whole thing paved and I can't even drive across the country in two days. Who the hell were your parents?"
"A question I ask myself often."
"Well, kid. I think it's shit what that Zod did to you. Took something he had no right to take. Now I gotta go hire somebody else. Nobody types as fast as you.
"Eh, what the hell. I'm gonna miss you around here, and I ain't the only one. Didn't even get to throw you an awkward going away party. I'll tell everybody you stopped by, if you don't object."
"I'd like that… I'm sorry I can't do it myself."
"And turn my office into more of a three ring circus than it already is? Fat chance. And what are you sorry for? Jesus, if I had any doubts you were Kent that just proves it. What are you sorry for? For saving us all? All the goddamn time? Don't give me that crap. We're the ones who are sorry. We are. Just, go talk to Lois and Jimmy, alright? You can manage that, at least?"
"I can do that."
"I am though. I'm sorry it turned out like this."
"Walked the tightrope as long as I could."
"That you did. Don't know where you found the time, but you did, but kid, listen up, because I'm never going to say this again, it ruins my reputation: it's been an honor working with you. It's been an honor to know you. Can't imagine why you ever would, but if there's anyway I can help you, you call me. Or fly in here, whatever the hell you want to do."
"Thank you. That means a lot to me."
"And never tell Lois I said this, but you're the better writer. She's better at getting a story, but you're the better writer. She's great with her hammer, beating information out of people, but you get how it all comes together. What the heart of it all is. You might not be human, but you've got humanity. Don't let anybody tell you don't. Now, kindly get the hell out of my office, so I can get home to my wife."
Clark knew Mr. White would not want to hear one more thank you from him tonight, so he thought of another way to express his gratitude, one that Mr. White was still quick to turn down.
"Want a lift?"
"From you? God no. I'm too old."
"It'd make your wife happy, I bet. You getting home sooner." Clark persisted, and Mr. White acquiesced. "It would, wouldn't it…"
"View's nice from up there, too."
Mr. White sighed, before agreeing with him, for once. "And what's life without a little goddamn adventure. Alright, Kent. What the hell. Make sure I get there in one piece."
Clark dropped Mr. White on the balcony of his apartment. Greeted Mrs. White at his insistence. Was in awe of the two of them. Knew their relationship had seen its fair share of ups and downs, that a marriage to his boss could not have been easy to sustain. That there were many lonely nights in Mrs. White's past.
Yet here they still were. She happy to see him, after all the years and all the lonely nights, and he her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close, not at all caring that it only enhanced their height difference, looking proud in a personal way, and softer than Clark had ever seen.
She invited him in for a cup of tea, and he was not sure if he should intrude, and was getting ready to decline, until Perry sensed his hesitation and was having none of it.
"My missus is offering you a drink, Kent. You gonna turn down her hospitality? And mine, for that matter?"
So he sat with them, around a small round table tucked into a corner, for as long as his job permitted, until his ears picked up the first signs of trouble, honing onto the location of screams growing in fervor.
"Thank you very much, Mrs. White, but…"
"Trouble?" She supplied, gently, with a smile that reminded him so much of Ma's.
"Unfortunately. The tea and cookies were wonderful though."
"It's alright, Kent," Mr. White waved him off. "Duty calls."