Similis

Leaning casually against the wooden sill, Haze stared out across the fields. The position of the shadows showed that it was just coming up to midday, and the light breeze was warm and smelt pleasantly of vegetation. Martha and Jonathan were in town, fetching a few last-minute groceries. Clark was off with Lex, and now that Haze had finished his last few chores there was nothing to do but idle.



Relaxed, Haze turned away from the window. While strictly speaking the angel did not need to eat, he had become accustomed to indulging in the human way of doing things, and the empty place in his mid-section was beginning to hint that lunch would be quite acceptable. Content, Haze headed for the staircase.



Earlier that morning the farm had been in an uproar as Clark had rushed around, making sure that he had absolutely everything he could possibly need, and a few things he didn't, for his trip into Metropolis with Lex. The two youths had invited Haze to watch the ball game with them, but he had politely declined the offer. Haze had other things to occupy his mind today: they were about to have a weekend visitor.



The previous weekend Jonathan had laughed into the telephone and promised Bruce that both he and Martha were utterly delighted that Bruce was finally going to be able to make good his promises and stop at the farm for a few days as their guest.



"Alfred is visiting his lady love next weekend, so he thought I should see if you would look after me?" Bruce had joked down the phone, his rich deep voice clearly audible to the two alien youths.



"Personally, I think Alfred is worried about me messing up the place," Bruce chuckled. "Alfred knows how dangerous it is to let me anywhere near his kitchen, and he's frightened of coming back to a disaster area."



While Haze and Clark had laughed at the idea of Bruce needing anyone to look after him, or being ordered around in his own house, Jonathan and Martha had simply shared one of their affectionate glances, and agreed that it would be no bother at all for them to put Bruce up in the guest room.







As he reached the top of the stairs a tingle ran through the air and Haze hesitated. Something felt wrong. Instinctively Haze cast his mind out toward his 'twin', wondering if Clark was trying to reach for him? The distance between them was considerable, but if Clark needed help then Haze intended to provide it.



'Clark?' Haze called, opening himself to maximum sensitivity and urging Clark to respond. 'Clark!'



The answer came in a wave of white-hot agony. As the sensory volcano shot through him Haze staggered, and stumbled forward. The last thing his overloaded senses registered was a hint of space under his toes where the next bit of floor should have been, before consciousness fled completely and he pitched headlong down the stairs.



It was only thanks to the physiological adaptations that he had acquired from Clark that Haze's skull did not simply shatter when his head struck the square edge of the newel post with the full force of both acceleration and gravity behind it. However, lacking the benefits of a fully Kryptonian body, the blow was still devastating.



The landing was just wide enough to accommodate Haze's full length, and he lay outstretched along the length of the sawn boards, with his right arm flung forward, dangling out over the edge and drooping into the perpetual shadows by the barn wall.



Outside in the yard a horn sounded noisily as a small car pulled up.







"Where is everyone?" Chloe looked around bemused. "Are you sure this is the right day? I don't see anyone." She climbed out of her car and glanced around the yard. "Do you?"



Lana shrugged. "Maybe they're still out shopping? I told you we were going to be too early."



"I guess." Chloe looked wistful and excited at the same time. "I can't wait to meet Bruce Wayne!"



"Chlo – you promised, no reporter stuff." Lana reminded her.



"Yeah, I know…" Chloe wrinkled her nose. "It's just…"



"Yes?"



"Nothing."



"Good!" Lana seemed satisfied to leave it at that. "How about we check out the barn? Even if no one else is here, then Haze should be."



"Mmmm!" Chloe rallied immediately. "'Kay."







As the dust settled back down over Haze, the deep cut that had opened up just inside his hairline began to bleed copiously, adding to the two small red patches already blossoming from Haze's lip and beneath his right eyebrow.



In only a few minutes, the wood of the small platform was damp with dark red. As the wood began to saturate, the rapidly pooling liquid outgrew the soaked plank and as gravity caught it, taking the line of least resistance a thin ruby line dribbled down along Haze's outstretched forearm, to drip from his loosely curled fingers down onto the dusty floor some ten feet below.







The barn doors were wide open. Calling out a cheery greeting, the two girls strolled inside. The interior was dark in contrast with the brilliant afternoon sunshine. Squinting up toward the platform up near the rafters proved disappointing, there was absolutely no sign of current occupation on the upper level, and although the silhouette of the open hayloft made it hard to make out any other details, seen from down here the stairs seemed equally empty.



"Well, unless Haze's lying up there in the shadows, waiting in ambush for us, he's not here." Chloe sighed.



"Haze wouldn't do that. Maybe he's out feeding something?" Lana suggested. "Or he could be off in the kitchen garden? I bet Mrs Kent gave him a huge list of chores, seeing how Clark managed to squeeze out of everything by going to the game with Lex."



"Oh, unfair much?" Chloe was immediately ready to defend Clark. "Clark and Lex have had this afternoon arranged for weeks. They were hardly to know that Bruce Wayne would unexpectedly invite himself over, were they?"



"Teasing!" Lana laughed. "Come on, let's go look for Haze!"



"Eeww, there is something in here, I just heard something drop onto the floor over there!" Chloe complained. From where they stood neither girl was in a position to observe the ominous red puddle forming in the deep shadow beneath the stairs.



"Bugs! Yukky!" Lana laughed and pushed her gently outside. "Don't worry, I'll save you, Chlo!" She promised.



Giggling, the pair wandered off to look for Haze.







"Chloe, Lana?" Martha put down the small bag of groceries, and waved.



"Hi, Mrs Kent!" Lana waved back and the two girls got up from the porch and came to greet the returning couple.



"Where's Haze?" Jonathan wondered, glancing around.



"We don't know." Chloe blinked. "We arrived a little after midday and we haven't seen him yet. We did have a walk around when we got here, but when we didn't find anyone we just assumed that you had all gone together to get the shopping."



"No, Haze didn't come with us. That's odd." Martha frowned. "Oh well, I expect you're thirsty after all that waiting? Let's get inside, you can freshen up while Jonathan and I get the groceries put away, then you can help me get the dinner started. I thought that you two could start chopping the salad, since you volunteered to help out?" The three women began walking toward the house, talking and giggling.



Shrugging his shoulders, Jonathan satisfied himself that nothing had been left behind and followed them in.



"Oh, I see we have 3 messages. I'd better check them before we get started." Martha pressed the button on the phone and waited.



"If … there, please pick up." It was Lex's voice, and sounding considerably more anxious than usual. The signal was terrible and his voice was fading in and out.



Chloe and Lana hesitated at the foot of the stairs.



"I … tell you … been an incident …" Lex's voice continued. "Clark … hurt … green mineral ... bomb…" The message ended abruptly.







"Oh my lord!" Martha stared wide-eyed at the phone as if it might somehow bite.



Immediately the two girls hurried back to Martha's side.



Tentatively Martha pressed the button for the next message. The second recording started.



"Sorry. It's Lex again. I didn't mean to panic you, but the cell phone was fading in and out badly, then it just cut me off in mid sentence." Lex had recovered his usual calm. "I'm on a borrowed landline now, and so I'll keep this to the point."



Jonathan nodded at his wife, both of them understanding full well that this was Lex's way of informing them that he intended being very careful not to say anything that could be used against them.



"We're not hurt," The young corporate heir continued. "But as I was trying to say in my earlier call, there was an incident at the stadium and we thought you would appreciate hearing that from us, rather than on the news. There was a small explosion … The Police say that someone had planted a device in the executive boxes, and … well, Clark looked pretty green at the time. I think the shock might have upset his stomach? Either that or the six hot dogs he ate on the way here rebelled. Anyway, for once we seem to have gotten off largely unscathed. I didn't even hit my head on anything."



That raised amused and relieved smiles from Lana and Chloe.



Again the Kent's exchanged knowing looks: so, green kryptonite was involved? The device had been targeted at Clark! Lex was subtly telling them as much as he dared over an unsecured line and given that he had no way of knowing if anyone might be eavesdropping.



"We've just been told that we can go, so we're going to be making our way back as soon as possible." Lex sighed down the phone. "I'm ordering the company helicopter to pick us up. The flight back should take about half an hour. I'll phone you again once we've landed. My cell phone is completely trashed; so don't bother even trying it. Okay, bye."



Martha and Jonathan exchanged even happier looks when the third message turned out to be from Bruce.



"Hi, it's me. The roads have been uncharacteristically clear so far." Bruce was saying. "I've just made a quick pit stop and I estimate that I should be with you by about 5pm."



Automatically Jonathan glanced at the wall clock. "It's half four now." He frowned. "I'm beginning to wonder just where Haze has gotten to?"



"Honey, why don't you go out and look for him?" Martha suggested.



"You sound worried?" Jonathan looked at his wife.



"I am, a little." She admitted.



"Actually," Jonathan added another handful of soda cans to the collection already stacked up in the refrigerator. "So am I. Haze usually comes over when he hears the truck, and it's not like him to not at least offer to help with unloading the shopping." Decided, he headed for the door. "Where did you girls say you'd looked?" He asked the returning pair.



"Well, we looked around the pens, and the kitchen garden, but Haze could have gone there after we left. Oh, and we stuck our heads around the barn door first."



"Tell you what? You two go and take another look in the barn, while I trot down and check out the end fields?" Jonathan decided. "Honey, you keep on with the dinner. That'll bring Haze running as fast as anything else."



"Maybe we ought to shout for him too?" Chloe suggested, as the three of them walked briskly down the front steps. "I know he can't actually yell back, but at least he'll know we're looking for him."



"Good idea." Jonathan agreed. He was part way down towards the first set of pens when he heard the rumble of tyres on the road.







Bruce waved at him from the sports car, as he parked neatly beside the Kent's truck. "Jon!"



"Bruce!" As the younger man climbed out of the car, Jonathan waited. Two of them could look just as easily as one, better in fact.



"I made even faster time than I expected. Where are the mirror men?" Bruce smiled. "I felt sure that at least one of them would be here waiting."



"Normally you'd be right about that," Jonathan told him. "Except Clark went to Metropolis with Lex this morning."



"Are they alright? The radio said there was trouble at the Stadium."



Jonathan wasn't surprised: it figured that Bruce would keep an ear out for that sort of thing. "Yeah, they were there, but it sounds like they're fine." He shrugged, not wanting to start talking about whatever might have happened at the stadium until he had some solid facts to offer. "Lex rang a little while ago to say they were on their way back, my guess is that they should be here pretty soon."



"And Haze?"



"That's the odd thing." Jonathan admitted. "Haze was tidying the barn while we went shopping, and I could have sworn that he intended to stay put until you got here. But when Chloe and Lana arrived, they didn't find any sign of him. Martha's getting a bit concerned so we came out to have a quick look around for him."



"It's not like Haze to," Bruce began. A sudden shrill cry of panic cut him off in mid-sentence.







"Mr Kent!" Lana ran full tilt out of the barn and nearly crashed headlong into them. "Come quickly! We found him, oh you have to hurry!"



Following the distraught girl into the barn, Jonathan found Chloe standing halfway up the first flight of stairs. "Up here." She said in a very subdued voice.



From ground level the bulk of the wooden landing obscured almost everything on it from view, however as Jonathan climbed the first flight, with Bruce right behind him, he was finally able to see what Chloe was looking at. The youth lying awkwardly along the wooden boards had a very familiar head of dark hair.



Chloe looked up at them. "He's alive." She whispered. "Just."



"How do you know?" Lana gasped. "He could be …"



"No, he couldn't! Dead people don’t bleed." Chloe snapped. "Get a grip, Lana."



"Out of the way." Bruce took charge at once, and Jonathan was more than glad to let him. Kneeling at the youth's side, Bruce methodically checked for broken bones, ignoring the blood that soaked up onto his pants leg and seemingly equally as indifferent to the soft sniffles coming from the two girls.



"You girls go in the house. Tell Martha that there's been an … accident … and that she needs to get some water boiling, and fish out some of the old clean washcloths. We'll need to wash the dirt off him so we can see what we're dealing with." Jonathan finally managed to tear his eyes away from the silent form. "Go on! Hurry!" As the sounds of running feet died away, he turned to Bruce. "Do you think it's safe to move him?"



"We have to." Bruce nodded. "The way he's pressed up against the post is stopping the wound from closing. Each time he breathes, it re-opens." His lips narrowed to a thin line. "If I'm going to risk moving him at all, it might as well be to take him somewhere more comfortable. Besides, if he shifts even a few inches he could roll right off this landing."



"Thank god he didn't move then." Jonathan glanced down into the dark below the stairs. "The tines for the old winnower are stored down the back there." He gulped at the image that inspired.



Bruce nodded grimly. "Judging by the state of the woodwork, he's been bleeding like this for quite some time, Jon. I'm worried…"



"And there isn't one of us that can give him a transfusion." Jonathan was worried now. "Not even Clark, from what you said last time."



"Mmm." Bruce very carefully inserted his hand under Haze and, lifting slightly to avoid further contamination from the dusty floor, tenderly pulled Haze over onto his back, drawing the unconscious youth up into his arms. "Come on Haze. Let's get you out of here." He rumbled, cradling his injured friend against his broad chest, as he walked carefully down the steps and out into the last of the afternoon sunshine.







"In here." Jonathan urged, stepping into the room and making space for Bruce to follow him in.



Very carefully Bruce lowered the limp form onto the cloth-covered mattress. As he straightened up he glanced around curiously.



"This is their room." Jon explained, seeing the other man's eyes taking in the tidy room. For a few seconds neither man spoke.



"We need to clean him up." Martha arrived with a bowl of liquid and an armful of towels and cloths. "Jon, honey, I sent the girls home. There's nothing they can do here. Can you fetch up a couple of buckets? We'll need to rinse the blood out of his hair."







Together the three of them worked on cleaning away the trails of dried blood and caked on dust until, finally, clean skin emerged from beneath the red stain.



"His heartbeat's there, but it's weak." Bruce said softly. "If Haze were human…"



"If he were human, we could take him to the hospital." Martha frowned, dabbing lightly at the blood that had soaked into the dark hair. "But if a human had lost this much blood then he'd already be …" She didn't say the word, but neither man needed to hear it said in order to know exactly what was meant.



"But Haze isn't like us, and he's strong." Jonathan said firmly, reminding them of the more positive aspects of Haze's biology.



"Hopefully he'll draw on me now I'm here." Bruce agreed, wrapping his hand lightly around Haze's. "Although as I don’t feel any different, it's more likely that he's already been pulling whatever he needed from Clark."



"Maybe."



"Jon?"



"Clark's a long way away." Jonathan said softly. "The connection between them isn't as strong over a distance."



"You think it will be too far, Jon?"



"I don't know." The Kent frown deepened. "No, Clark's already on his way back. I'm sure things'll be fine once he gets here."

Something in the way that Jonathan said that, set alarms ringing inside Bruce, he turned to his friend. "What aren't you telling me?"



"When Clark slips on the extra speed the connection between the two boys gets shaky, even at the best of times. If Haze is relying on Clark right now, then any interruption to their bond could be damn dangerous for Haze." Jonathan told him grimly. "And things didn't go as … smoothly … at the game as Clark and Lex were expecting."



"But Clark's still coming back with Lex, isn't he?" Bruce tensed. "In Lex's car? They haven't argued, or split up?"



"No. The problems were at the stadium, and from what Lex said things are just fine between him and Clark. What worries me is that, once he gets closer, Clark may sense that something's not right with Haze." Jonathan said softly. "If that happens Clark's quite likely to act on impulse and strike off on his own so that he can get back here faster. We can only pray that Lex has him distracted enough not to notice …"



"And Lex's phone was broken, so we can't call him and warn either of them about this either." Martha added, meticulously drying Haze with tender hands.



"Oh god." Bruce stared at the pale youth lying silently in the large bed. Instinctively he stroked the limp fingers, not daring to even hold his hand any more firmly in case that could somehow hurt Haze further.







"No, I'm sure something's wrong." Clark insisted, as they climbed into the car. "I can feel it. Maybe I should…" He glanced toward the open gate.



"Not with my father anywhere around." Lex put a restraining hand on his young friend's shoulder. "There are bound to be hidden camera's. I know that certain things have improved recently, however there's no sense in openly tempting fate. Besides, stuff has a habit of getting into the wrong hands… and Lionel isn't the only one who we have to watch out for."



"Yeah." Clark nodded reluctantly. "But …" Again he looked in the direction of the distant farm.



Lex could see that the teen was already itching to simply put one foot in front of the other and blur off toward home. "I won't dawdle." He promised. "But let's get there at a credible speed, huh? Besides, after what you went through this afternoon, it might be a good idea to recoup your energy first before doing anything too energetic. It wasn't that long ago that you were re-acquainting yourself with your breakfast, and those hotdogs."



"'Kay." A heavy sigh floated on the air between them as Clark dutifully buckled the seatbelt on. "I'm …"



"If you are going to say that you are sorry about the way that today turned out then I'll have to kick you, Clark." Lex warned him in a perfectly matter-of-fact voice. "I see it as my duty as your friend to stop you tearing yourself up over every little thing."



"You'll only hurt your foot." Clark grinned. "And if you hurt yourself on me then that would be my fault…"



"You are perfectly irritating, you know that, don't you?" Lex kept his eyes on the road, as he swung the car out through the high gates.



"I think you might have mentioned it a few times." Came the amused reply. "But you love me really."



"Actually, I do." Lex agreed, thoroughly enjoying the small choking sounds that Clark was making. "Something wrong?" He asked, as if he had no idea of the mayhem he had just unleashed.



" … no … " Clark wasn't having a lot of luck at getting his breath back.



Lex laughed and patted his friend on the knee. "Honestly Clark, you are so easy to wind up."



"So … it was just a wind up?"



"Now Clark, you of all people should know that not everything I say is a wind up."



"Oh." Clark was obviously going to be thinking that one over rather more carefully.



Grinning to himself, Lex left Clark to stew for a moment. In his opinion there was nothing more delightful than thoroughly confusing his farm boy. Particularly when Clark made himself such an easy target.







Climbing out of the car, Clark glanced around the yard. More than ever he had the feeling that something was very wrong. Spotting a familiar face on the porch, he jogged over. "Dad?" The tense set of his father's shoulders immediately set Clark's instincts on edge. "What's happened? Is Mom,"



"We're both fine." Martha pushed the screen door open and stepped out. "Clark, listen very carefully. Whatever you do, don’t speed…"



Clark felt as if someone had suddenly dumped an iceberg in his stomach. His breath locked in his throat as the absence of something, that had become so much a part of him that he hardly noticed it anymore, began screaming at him. Finally the entire picture pulled into sharp focus. "Haze!" Distraught, he looked at his parent's. "Where is he?"



"In your room." Jonathan told him. "But don't speed Clark!"



Pelting past his parent's, restraining himself to purely human limits through sheer force of will, Clark pounded up the stairs and skidded in through their bedroom door. "Haze!"







"Clark." Bruce took charge immediately, not giving the shocked youth time to think, or to do anything rash. He spoke firmly, "Listen very carefully: we can't afford for you to go to pieces about this right now. I'm glad you're here, I need you to do something for Haze, and you're the only one who can."



Clark pulled himself together. "Anything…" He promised.



"Good boy. Now, don't even try touching him yet. You have to take a very close and careful look inside Haze and tell me about any damage you can find, and particularly if he's still bleeding anywhere. Can you do that?"



Blinking back tears, Clark nodded. "What happened to him, Bruce?"



"While you check Haze over, I'll fill you in with what we know." Bruce promised. He watched Clark edge in close to Haze and narrow his eyes.



Although as far as he could determine Clark didn’t seem to be doing anything, Bruce trusted the youth to do exactly as he had been asked.



Moving very deliberately, Clark inched along beside the bed, never taking his fixed attention from Haze's body.



While Clark carried out his examination, Bruce spoke softly, recounting the known facts, and from the way Clark's expression darkened as Bruce talked, it was obvious to the older man that the youth was soaking up every word. "And that's all we know." Bruce finished. "Now what have you found?"



"There's a crack here, running up along Haze's right shin." Clark said hesitantly, waving a hand over the area. "But it's not deep, and there's no fresh bleeding. The new bone cells are already settling into the split."



Bruce's eyes widened as he began to appreciate the possible scope of Clark's gifts. What else was hidden inside this affectionate farm boy?



Clark rested a large hand lightly on a dark patch on his 'twin's' right forearm. "There's a small fracture in the thinner of these two bones." He stated. "It was bleeding earlier and that's caused a lot of bruising inside his arm, which is why it's swollen, but there isn't any new bleeding happening now."



"Good." Bruce nodded. "Go on."



"Oh." Clark's eyes widened, and a quick flicker of dismay flashed across his face for a moment, but he took a quick breath and mastered it.



"Tell me."



"Haze was bleeding here." Clark lifted a careful finger and touched it lightly to the wavy hair just behind Haze's ear. "And here." He pointed slightly further back. "There's a lot of damage … inside." Clark didn’t say anything more for a few seconds and Bruce could see that the youth was struggling against tears.



Sliding along the polished boards, Clark knelt beside his 'twin', his hand automatically reaching out and wrapping around that of the other youth.



When there was not even a flicker of response, Bruce felt one more tiny shred of hope wither. "Clark, is there anything you can do?" He didn’t expect that the lad would be any better placed to work a miracle than he himself was, but desperation had begun to bite, and he would take anything, however slight the chance, to have Haze restored to them.



"I'm sorry." Clark's eyes brimmed with unshed tears. He jumped hurriedly to his feet and backed away. "I'm sorry!" He repeated, "I gotta go." Turning he ran.



"It's okay, Haze, he's just upset. Clark'll be back when he's ready." Bruce said firmly. "Now, what are we going to do about you?"







Edging around the door, Lex watched the scene unfolding in the sickroom.



Bruce's good, he told himself, watching the shadow of despair in the dark eyes, while listening to the confidence projected into the steady baritone rumble.



He's damn good. He might even be better than me… Lex automatically assumed that Bruce was already aware of his presence. Had the roles been reversed, Lex would have been - especially since he purposely hadn't been making any effort to conceal his approach. Sneaking around in Martha and Jonathan's house would have just felt wrong…



"Lex?" Bruce turned, and for a moment they shared an understanding.



With a slight nod, Lex passed the second cup of coffee he was carrying over to Bruce. "Martha thought you might need some of this?" He explained.



"Actually, I need the bathroom a whole lot more." Bruce replied wryly.



Lex grinned knowingly and pointed. "Just along there. One of the nice things about this size of house is that you can't miss it."



"Could you sit in with Haze for a while?" Bruce asked. "I don’t plan on leaving him alone like this, even for a moment."



"Sure." Lex nodded, and edged past, taking Bruce's place in the bedside chair. "Clark's resilient, Bruce, he just needs a little time to adjust."



"I know. Keep talking to Haze." Bruce said softly, his eyes locked on the unconscious youth. "And Lex – be as positive as you can. No doubts…" For a few seconds his eyes locked with Lex's again.



"Okay." Lex agreed, taking up the challenge and deliberately masking his own concerns with the appearance of calm confidence. "Small talk? I can do that."



Bruce acknowledged the gesture with a small nod.



"Is it okay to touch him?" Lex wondered suddenly. "I'm not going to hurt him at all?"



"Clark says that there is some bone damage under the bruises, here and here," He pointed to Haze's leg and arm, "So as long as you avoid those, everything else should be okay for him."



"Good." The bald youth nodded. "Bruce, I remember only too well how draining the drive is from Gotham, just take as much time as you need. I can handle things here for a while." He promised, immediately turning his attention to the bed and it's occupant, not wanting to see if Bruce should start to lose control.



"Okay, Haze, so I suppose you'd like to hear about what your little brother got up to this afternoon? Up being the operative phrase…" Lex gave a small smile. "I did try and tell Clark that eating six hotdogs in one sitting would be bad for him. I really did." He caught hold of Haze's hand and pressed it lightly between his palms. "But you know how the kid is? So …"







As Bruce moved off along the passage, he was satisfied that at least one person in this house was just as good at concealing his feelings as he was. Bruce had no doubts that Clark would be back soon, the youth would never abandon Haze, or anyone else.



The boy's still emotionally sensitive and just needs a little time to come to terms with this. Clark would be fine.



Maybe we all will? Even as he thought that, Bruce began to reflect that the trouble with optimism was that experience tended to suggest that it was generally misplaced. And what was the statistical likelihood of something happening to both boys, in different locations, at the same time, anyway? Was he just being paranoid, or was there something sinister at work here? He began to miss his bat cave.



* * * * *





"Where's Bruce?" Martha stared into the darkening sky.



"He went out for some air." Jonathan reminded her.



"But that was ages ago." Martha peered out into the thickening twilight. "There's no sign of him."



"Let him be. The man is more than capable of taking care of himself, after all Smallville is hardly Gotham…" Jonathan said softly. "Today came as quite a shock to him." He ignored the fact that today had been a shock to all of them.





"How is Lex doing?" Martha asked. "I heard you go up and check on him."



"Fine." Jonathan nodded approvingly. "Better than I would, I think. Boy's got the best poker face I've ever seen."



"Better than Bruce?"



"You aren't going to start that again, are you? We were only playing for matchsticks, and technically they were all his to start with."



"They were all still his at the end of the game too, weren't they?" Martha smiled a small and mysterious smile.



Groaning, Jonathan hugged his wife tightly. "If I didn't love you!" He sighed.



"But you do."



"Yes." He buried his face in her hair.



"And Bruce loves Haze." Martha said with casual certainty.



"He does?" Jonathan straightened up. "D'you reckon it's mutual?"



"I'm not totally sure yet, but I think it might be." Came the soft reply.



Jonathan wasn’t sure quite how he felt about that, so he decided to see how Martha was going to play this one. "How do you think Clark is going to take that?" He asked.



"We'll have to wait and see." His wife told him.



"Ah."







Clark dug one foot quietly into onto the compacted earth, and stared up at his bedroom window. Lex was up there, sitting patiently beside Haze's bed, and, as he focussed his hearing, Clark could hear his friend telling Haze about some of their more outrageous adventures prior to the arrival of the angel in all their lives.



So if Lex is there, then where's Bruce? Maybe he can help me decide? The farm was dark, with nearly everyone clustered in the house. Where would I be, if I were the Batman?



The nearby barn loomed against the twilight sky, dark and grimly forbidding and, at least as far as human senses could determine, not a living thing remained in the echoing structure.



Except that with his peculiar advantages, Clark knew different. Squinting at the wooden walls he picked up an image from inside, someone was sitting on the stairs and somewhere up ahead of him Clark could hear the sound of laboured breathing. The sort of noise someone made after they'd been crying for a while, but probably didn’t want anyone else to notice.



Bruce… Clark headed in through the main doors, picking his way with confidence born of long years of wandering around in the old building. Climbing the stairs, he found the other man sitting in the near-dark, partway up the upper flight, staring off into nothing.



"Bruce, are you okay with company?" Clark whispered, not wanting to disturb Bruce if this turned out to be one of those deeply private moments.



The dark head nodded. "Yes." A hand, half-seen in the twilight, waved at the step. "Sit."



"Sure?" Clark edged closer, and simply sat at Bruce's side.



"I keep wondering …" Bruce lifted his head from his hands and wiped surreptitiously at his eyes.



"What?" Clark asked softly. "What were you wondering?"



"How long he lay here? Whether he was conscious, in pain? Afraid?" Came the grim reply.



Clark deliberately did not turn, giving Bruce at least that much privacy, but he heard the anguish in the man's voice and knew that sitting here wrapped in the shadows, just for once Bruce was not hiding behind his usual emotionless wall. A long sob wrung it's way out of the broad chest, and unaccustomed as he was to playing this role, Clark could not help but take the other man into his arms and hold him.



"Assuming that this happened because Haze was hit from the feedback from me, he was here for at least four and half hours." Clark decided, gathering his thoughts. He tightened his grip comfortingly. Given the kind of man Bruce was, Clark preferred to stick with straight facts, rather than offer platitudes.



"The explosion went off at midday in Metropolis, and I was sick straight away. You arrived at 4.30pm, and from what Dad said it was around five minutes after that when Haze was discovered."







Pulling himself together, Bruce sat up. Clark felt the shadowed eyes lock on to his. Even in the dark, he could sense the burning desperation within the sorrowing form. "Haze wasn't aware of anything in that time, Bruce." He said decisively. "He was already out of it before he tumbled down the stairs. If he had known what was happening to him, I would have known too."



"You're utterly sure?" There was just the faintest trace of hope in the bass tones.



"We always know when either of us is hurting, or unhappy." Clark said softly. "Usually it's strongest when we're close to each other, but when something bad happens I think the other one would feel it, no matter how far away we were."



"Did you sense anything from Haze today?" There was no hint of accusation, only the overwhelming need to know, to be completely sure.



"No." Clark flushed guiltily. "After the explosion I was too sick to feel anything outside of myself. When I pulled myself together again, I didn’t notice anything from Haze. It was only when I got here, and suddenly there wasn't something where there ought to have been, that I realised that he wasn't there." He sighed. "I'm not making much sense, am I?"



"You're doing fine." Bruce disagreed. "Thanks…" He didn't specify what he was thanking Clark for, and Clark didn't ask. But Bruce had another question. "Clark, where did you go just now?"



Clark bowed his head, trying not to see the dark stain that lingered on the landing area. "First I flew over to see Professor Willowbrook, and then I stopped off on the way back and wandered around outside the Kowache Cave site for a bit."



"The caves? The same ones where the essence of Jor-El is?" Bruce sat up. "What made you go there?"



"I was wondering if the Kowache rituals could help heal Haze, but Professor Willowbrook thinks that the best chance is to ask the machine that my people left here."



"You don't sound keen? Why not?"



"I don't trust it." Clark met the questioning eyes as honestly as he could. "Bruce, my father, I mean Jonathan, would go ape if I even suggested it. The technology Jor-El left in the cave wall is more advanced than anything on Earth, and if anything can help Haze that probably could, but what worries me is what it will demand in return."







"Clark, do you think Jor-El's machine will even agree to work on Haze?"



"That's the next question." Clark agreed. "Haze's body duplicated a lot of my biology when he adapted, so maybe, just maybe, the machine will decide that he is Kryptonian enough to be worth saving, and enough like me that it can."



"Or it could decide to try and take it all the way and attempt to turn Haze into another Kryptonian conqueror!" Jonathan's voice sounded so suddenly that both Clark and Bruce jumped.



The barn stairs rattled in protest as two heavy muscular bodies settled back simultaneously on the wooden slats.



"We don’t know what that damn machine could do to Haze!" Jonathan was openly angry, having heard only the tail end of their conversation. "Clark, I can't believe that you could even think of such a stupid thing!"



Clark opened his mouth to protest.



"Perhaps it is not such a foolish expectation?" A second, equally unexpected, voice suggested.



Deciding that he had had more than enough of sitting in the dark, Clark aimed his heat vision at the storm lamp and lit it. "Hi Professor Willowbrook." He said politely.



"Hello again, Naman." The placid academic smiled. "Good evening, Mr Kent. Mr Wayne. It is good to finally meet you."



"Joseph Willowbrook?" Bruce immediately recognised the name. "I thoroughly enjoyed your last academic article."



"Thank you." Willowbrook nodded in appreciation. "However it was not archaeology that I came to discuss. May I see our injured friend?"



"Of course." Jonathan gestured toward the house. "Bruce, you coming in now?"



"Yes." Bruce hauled himself up off the step and followed.