Clark's eyes dropped to the hand pressed to his chest, wondering if he was trying to feel for a change, to see if the wound was still there. "I came to Gotham for you." He murmured quietly, giving a small shake of his head.

"You helped me when you didn't have to. You wanted me dead. You could have finished it, but you didn't." He said, smiling softly as he reached out and cupped his face carefully.