Clark would be there. He'd be there, curled into the corner as he went through a breathing exercise from his childhood and kept his hands over his eyes. Make the world small. Make the world small and swim towards his mother's heartbeat. Swim until the world made sense again.

Jason had lashed out because he was hurt. Because Bruce had been hurt. Because Kara had been hurt. Because he had been hurt. Jason had lashed out and he had responded... inappropriately. So very inappropriately. He'd responded like he was being attacked. He couldn't do that. Not when nothing short of a damn missile actually was an attack.

By the time Bruce would come back, Clark would be uncurling from his corner and pulling his hands away from his eyes as he breathed in and out, slow and steady, and straightened his spine from the feral crouch he'd been in.