You knew how much Clark loved what he did. He loved humanity as much as he loved you, maybe even more.

You also knew that he was his own biggest critic. Yeah, you were familiar with the cocky front he had to put on sometimes out of self preservation, the always moral, never wrong superhero that does nothing but save the day.

Whether or not he was sent here to do only good didn't matter, not when you could see so clearly that doing that good was his self-determined sole purpose. Clark had never done anything to prove the opposite, no matter how many conspiracies had been forged against his Superman persona.

So why didn't he see it?

Finally hearing his parents' full message had rattled him down to the very core of his being, that much was obvious. But that, compounded with the public's subsequent rejection of Superman as their protector, had shrunken Clark down into what you now saw before you.

It was clear when he shifted from Superman to Clark, the glasses, hair, the hunched shoulders. But this? He was practically a ball of pity on the couch, hardly moving anymore.

This morning, you could have imagined that finally hearing the full message would make Clark ecstatic. Not that there was any way to guess what he'd really be hearing, along with the rest of the world.

You knew Clark was good, even if he didn't look it right now.

Normally you'd get his parents on the phone, or convince him to fly over for the night. But this was something entirely new. Metropolis might hate him right now, but it's still his home, still the place he's sworn to protect.

So you make him a cocoa and walk it over to the couch, hoping your ball of a boyfriend will unfurl enough to get a few words out.