The wind screamed as the world blurred around him.

Clark didn’t remember hearing her scream—he only remembered the sound of his own heartbeat thundering in his ears when he saw her slip. One second she had been laughing, the next she was falling, the ledge crumbling beneath her like sand slipping through fingers.

His mind went blank. There wasn’t time to think.

The building blurred into nothingness as he pushed himself forward, faster than the human eye could follow, the world cracking under the sheer force of his speed. Air pressure tore at his skin, wind clawed at his cape, but none of it mattered.

All that mattered was her.

When he caught her, it was so gentle it almost felt impossible. One moment the ground was rushing toward her with merciless speed; the next she was suspended, weightless, in his arms. He cradled her as if she were made of glass, one arm beneath her knees, the other steady around her shoulders.

“Got you,” he whispered, breathless but soft, voice trembling as though he couldn’t quite believe she was safe.

But she didn’t move.

“Hey. Hey, come on, talk to me.”

The words cracked as they left his mouth, low and urgent. Panic wasn’t something Clark Kent felt often—he wasn’t allowed to. But right now, with her head leaning limply against his shoulder, eyes closed, lips pale, panic dug claws into his chest.

He landed on the rooftop slowly, carefully, as though the entire city might shatter if he moved too fast. His knees hit the ground as he lowered her down, brushing the hair gently from her face. His hands, always so sure, so steady, trembled against her skin.

“Please,” he murmured. “Please, sweetheart, wake up.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d saved her, but it was the first time she hadn’t looked at him right after with that half-smile that drove him insane—the one that said she knew she scared him on purpose. She always teased him for worrying too much.

But there was no teasing now.

Her wrist felt too fragile in his hand when he checked for her pulse, but it was there—thank God, it was there, fast but uneven beneath his fingertips. Relief made his eyes close for half a second before he leaned closer, pressing his forehead against hers like he could will her back to him.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, as much to himself as to her. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”