go by 17/2

**

It was midday, Metropolis.

Clark sat on the entrance  steps of the Daily Planet while he observed the other occupants of the sidewalk. During Clark's daily residence outside, Lois observed him very closely.   She passed him every morning on her way to work, on her way out of work and in between. She noted how he appeared to be listless and angry all at once. He never moved. Never said a word. It was as if he were waiting for her. Not Lois of-course, but for Chloe. As if  her face would be one of the many crossing 5th and Concord Lane.

"Good morning." Lois paused infront of Clark as she ascended the stairs that morning.

He ignored her, eyes more angry than anything else. It wasn't that he couldn't hear her, he did. He heard everything, but it was never the same as before. Without his abilities, the world sounded empty in comparison. The only sounds reaching him were the ones limited by immediate proximity.  It was the first time that Clark had felt any limitation.

He was human now.

Clark listened as Lois' high heels continued up the concrete steps. She had been  busy, Clark noted, covering the recent updates from Queen Laboratories. Those scientists at Queen Lab, already accredited for the cure of the meteor infected, had discovered yet another break through for meteor vaccines,a preventative measure for contracting infection. There hadn't been a new infection in four years.The first to be cured, Clark would later  read that day, had been Alicia Baker.

To his left was the Metropolis Police Department Headquarters. Polished and proud like every other agency in the city, the Police had been quiet,  for once. The city, rested and calm. Police officers cornered the major intersections and traffic ways, as if guarding the recently acquired harmony. There were squad cars lined about and Clark caught eyes with one of the patrolman outside of them. The patrolman, young and proud, started towards him, "Hey! No loitering around here, buddy."

Clark shifted his eyes away, the gleam of the Lex Corp building to his right.

"Hey!" The irritated cop said again, "Did you hear me?"

After spending years unnoticed by blue uniforms, it was strange now that Clark's presence was so obvious. He waited until the cop stood above him, his black baton poking his shoulder.

"Y'know, I've been watching you. Some kind of bum, aren't you? Sit here all day..."

Clark tried to ignore him, staring past his blue uniform and into the crowd.

"This city doesn't have room for your type. Why don't you go and get a job, buddy--"

The young cop backed up once Clark sprouted upwards, towering over him like a giant sequoia.  This was where Clark felt strange, his feet not collaborating with his mind. In the past, he would have turned and sped away. A blur in the distance. Avoided the guy altogether. Instead, the cop's eyes opened wide, the fear in them so strong that it shook Clark awake. This man was afraid of him.

The cop called for backup on his shoulder radio. Several more officers jogged across the street.

"Let me see your ID."

"I don't have one."

A second patrolmen yelled behind him, "What's your name?"

Clark's lips twitched, the effort to conceal his teeth tearing at his patience. Didn't they have real emergencies?  Didn't they know who he once was? A legend, a blur, the midnight hero of Metropolis?

"His name is Clark Kent." Lois interrupted. She  walked in between the group, all legs leading into a snug dress suit and bouncing brown hair. She smiled infectiously. "And he is absolutely harmless."

The patrolment looked at one another and then admiringly at Lois. "This guy a friend of yours Ms. Lane?"

"Why yes." Lois smiled at Clark, "He's an old friend of the family."

The patrolmen nodded apologetically, a few stepping forward to ask for Lois' autograph. Clark watched as she pulled a stylish ink pen from out of thin air, as if this motion was rehearsed often.

"Gee.." One of the starstruck patrolmen grinned, "You're gorgeous in person, Ms. Lane."

Clark left at that, ignoring all the other drabble that followed. He pushed his way through the crowd gathering at the steps,  made his way across the street. A taxi screeched its tires and honked as he walked through oncoming traffic. Clark barely noticed, only stopping to look if the yellow haired woman next to him might be her.

But back across the street, near Metropolis PD, Chief Adams, newly elected Chief of Police turned towards the commotion.

"What is it, Chief?" A lieutenant turned with her.

Nancy Adams, the former Sheriff of Lowell County, squinted, lines deepening around her eyes. "I must be getting old." She turned towards the lieutenant and smiled, "Could've sworn I saw a ghost."

*

Clark returned home, to the farm.

The yellow house and the red barn. There was only one truck now, Martha selling the other at auction years ago. Clark stood at the loft window, peering outward to the dirt drive. He heard nothing but the creak of the stairs behind him.

"I'm glad you're home," said Martha, arms wrapped in a soft sweater. Her kind eyes moistened when Clark turned to her. His expression was similar to a young man suffering from amnesia, or from a long lost journey at sea. His face was still darkened by the strange sun burn, his eyes weary from exhaustion. Physical or purely psychological, Clark's mind had wandered and investigated every corner he turned those last weeks, desperately searching for a scrap of familiarity. Now, he felt the phantom pains of his travel.

 "I don't feel home."

She moved towards him, "You were gone a very long time." There was a scrape across his chin made earlier that evening. He had shaven his beard.  This, Martha noted, was the first real step he had taken to returning home.

"Was I?" Clark wrinkled his brow, eyes angry. "I can't even feel time anymore. Everything .. changed."

Martha moved back, concerned, "Clark, everything that had to do with your abilities is gone. Your powers.. the caves.. Even the meteor infected were cured, not too long after." Martha looked at him, pleading for him to understand, "I know you wanted to understand your heritage, your origins... You must be devastated to know now, that even less of its existence exists now."

"My books." Clark motioned to his desk and drawers. "Dr. Swann's journals that were given to me. Where are they?"

"Confiscated." Martha said apologetically, " The days after you disappeared. The police came here and stormed through all of your belongings. It took me by surprised, I--" Martha bent her head down, the guilt to heavy for her, "I'm sorry, Clark. I should have fought harder, I was just so worried you were hurt--"

"It's fine." Clark dismissed it. "They mean nothing now."

 She looked at him differently, her eyes veering from his face ever so often to study the remainder of scars found on his arms and neck. Those were the ones he didn't cover up.

"The place I went to..." Clark spoke to his mother, but remained facing the sunset. "There was nothing there. No warmth, no purpose. Just a void. Now that I'm home, I feel much of the same. Even without Kryptonian threat, the world will continue to find its own dangers. But without my abilities, I am just a man. "

"You are more than that." Martha touched his hand very lightly. "You are my son."

*

That night, like every night since he'd returned, Clark tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The darkness of his bedroom shifted liked black sand, swallowing him back to that hellish place. The  red eyes of J'onn Jonzz hovered over his conscious, taunting his plea for rest.  But there was no rest. The constant worry that he had overlooked the returned Phantoms, or the return of Brainiac kept Clark awake, or yet, concentrated his mind like a acidic fear that ate away all of his inner peace.


He had searched everywhere, revisited every place the Kryptonians had ever followed, but there was no trace. The caves, as Martha described, had been bulldozed over by order of the last will and testament of the long deceased Alexander Luthor.  Clark considered looking north, to the arctic where Brainiac had once led him, but without the cave portal, and without his powers, the search was futile.  Ghostly echoes of Kryptonian language cursed in his ears, the directives of Jor-El no longer heard. Every essence of his Kryptonian self had vanished, leaving a hollow shell that searched for its replenishment.

Clark would lay on his back, looking out the small window of his room to where the stars appeared. The small flecks of light blinked as he concentrated. So far away was everything he had hoped for, dreamed for. It had been ages since he could dream. But Clark searched within himself every night, hoping that sleep would drift inside, and that he could awaken from this nightmare.

The long quiet of the Kansas nights spoke loudly of her absence.