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Clark shrugged, feeling embarrassed. "Glad I could help. But, I have to be honest, listening in like that...I feel...dirty, for doing it. These powers I have...I should only be using them to help."
"You did help," Bruce reminded him.
"That's not what I mean. I mean, I should be using them to help those who need help fighting injustice. This? This was just...I don't want to say 'wrong,' but..." His voice trailed off as he sought to put his feelings into words.
Bruce sighed. "I understand. But, for what it's worth, I'm grateful you did listen in. Now I have time to fix this mess." He paused, then, "You did good, Clark."
Clark nodded distractedly. "Yeah, I guess. Listen, I...uh...I think I need to get out for a bit. Get some air. Besides, I'm sure you have phone calls to make."
"By all means," Bruce nodded.
"I'm not sure when I'll be back," Clark said, in response to Bruce's unvoiced question.
Then he was gone, out the front door - just a blur of colors and an unexplained, out of place breeze marking his passing. There was nowhere he felt like going, so he flew straight up into the sky, tearing holes in the clouds and breaking free of the atmosphere to hover in that space between the Earth and the rest of the universe. He sometimes went to that place, when things on Earth became a little overwhelming. Out there, floating freely, unattached to the world, but not part of the stars, it was peaceful. It gave him a place of solitude, a place where he could collect his thoughts, far from the usual distractions of life.
But this time, he wasn't comforted. He still felt guilty over using his powers the way he had.
It's no different than if I were using them to uncover a criminal as a reporter, he told himself in his mind. And maybe, just maybe, I've finally found a way to start repaying Bruce for everything he's done for me these past couple of years, plucking me off the streets and all like he did.
That thought made him feel a little better. It was true that he felt more than indebted to Bruce.
For what felt like the billionth time, he wondered why he had the powers he did. And, more importantly, he wondered if he would ever have a concrete answer. His parents had always assured him that he was exactly as God intended him to be, but that didn't satisfy Clark. While it was all well and good to believe that he had his powers for a reason, he still wanted to know why. Was he some kind of science experiment? Was he even a human being? Was he some kind of advanced robot - a cyborg, he'd heard it called when flesh and machine comprised a sentient being.
"Who am I?" he shouted into the nothingness of space, his voice nothing more than a ghost in that perfect vacuum of sound.
