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Tears and Rain	By : Waxcrayons Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 13546 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not nor will I ever own Batman, Superman,DC comics or any of their characters, or make any money off of them.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
What would Batman do?
It was a mantra that he repeated in his head over and over and he poured over Gotham maps and blue prints laid out across the desk reserved exclusively for the Dark Knight, as he attempted to match building materials with the correct supplier. Alfred had gotten back to him swiftly with the name of a steel mill company called Sionis. Sionis's dealings were not all legit, so they duplicated, triplicated, and even quadruplicated their batches and numbers. Alfred busied himself searching for suspicious sounding orders made within their given time frame, sending him the info to go over so that he could send whoever was closest to the locale to check it out. While they had routed and rounded up several gangs and fatalist anarchists from some of the areas, they still had yet to find a trace of Bruce.
Tucked in amongst the files and binders that filled the shelves surrounding Bruce's workspace were small action figures of them and their friends. The same kind toy companies were selling now that the media was obsessed with costumed heroes. The figures were placed in such a a way that unless you were sitting at the desk to work, you really wouldn't notice they were there. While he tried to work as quickly and thoroughly as possible, his eyes were drawn to the silly little things. They were a tiny little display of Bruce's personality, hidden unless you knew where to look. The stained coffee cup left absent-mindedly by the computer screen had the S symbol of his costume on the inside lip. Any time Bruce drank from that cup, his lips would kiss the symbol. A large clear plastic mat held down important reference papers that pertained to maintaining headquarters, but hidden beneath those, where no one would ever think to check was another plastic layer. Beneath that one...
Photos. Captured images of times Clark could recall vividly and of those he had all but forgotten until the pictures jogged his memory. Pictures of the kids making a mess of the kitchen, looking mischievously into the camera with their flour powdered faces while a hardly amused butler stood folding arms behind them. One that Alfred must have taken of them trying to take Bruce down ensemble as their father held a football high out of their reach. There was a dated looking photo of Thomas and Martha Wayne posing for a professional photographer with their young and innocent son. His Ma and Pa had also earned a place on the secret mat. In the farthest corner, tucked in such a way that they had to be pulled out to look at were three photos of the two of them. There was the one of them dressed in Metropolis and Gotham football jerseys, taken by Lois during the last major 'grudge match' between the sister cities. Another of them taken by Jimmy at a high end restaurant during an puff interview that got a little too dirty seeing as how three men were gathered specifically talk to about sex lives. In the photo Clark blushed, hiding the bottom half of his face behind a notepad while Bruce looked to be in the middle of a risqué tale, smile wide as he delighted to make Clark squirm.
Now the last one... He didn't understand what significance it held for Bruce at first. To the casual observer it appeared a comical snapshot of a small accident. Clark remembered the circumstances behind the photo. The barn had been freshly painted and Ma had wanted a shot of the boys in front of it. But as the shutter clicked a forgotten paint can toppled off of the roof landing bottom side down, causing the paint to erupt like a volcano right next to the unsuspecting men below. Bruce had jumped into his arms to avoid being hit by the can, but wasn't spared by the paint. The resulting photo caught the eruption frozen at it's full height, Clark halfway between surprise and laughter, and Bruce already clinging on to him. A funny little accident was all it was... or so Clark once thought. But the more he remembered the brief moment and studied the photo, the more he was sure what the image actually captured was a little guilty act.
The surprise on Clark's face in the photo was genuine. The toppling can had honestly caught him by surprise. Bruce, however, didn't look surprised at all. Rather, he looked quite calm and content, his eyes on Clark's face and not at the exploding paint. It was as if he had seen it coming. And if that were true, he could have moved behind him, using the bigger Clark as a shield so that later in the day Bruce wasn't throwing that outfit away. Maybe it was all just hopeful fancies of a lovestruck fool, but it seemed like Bruce had seen and chosen to use the opportunity to sneak in a full body contact embrace. Used the distraction to be physically close him, staring up at him with an out of place secret smile. And Clark would have never known had he's not seen this photo so preciously hidden away.
He ran through more numbers and shipments with his hand frequently returning to stroke the photo. He knew there was some glaringly simple way to go about the search that he was just too worked up and worried to see. Bruce would have seen it instantly. Bruce would have already saved a hostage in the same situation. He was just better equipped to deal with these situations. Most of the League were powerhouses, used to using their strengths to defend people against giant robots and science experiments gone wrong. The crimes here weren't exactly things your could solve with laser vision and herculean strength. It was Bruce who dealt with psychopaths and serial murderers. Bruce chose to stomach following up the crimes of child molesters and rapists. Bruce who instinctively knew how to approach any enemy and often pointed the rest of them in the right direction. With him missing the team lacked a function none of them had probably realized just how much they had come to rely on. He was invaluable, and if Clark didn't get it together and start doing what years of working with Bruce should have taught him...
“It's right in front of me.” He knew it was. “I skipped over a...” His voice trailed off as he watched his hand stroke the photo on it's own accord. “Son of a bitch.” It was so damn simple. He had just been so distraught... That is no fucking excuse. Fuck, I've wasted so much time.
Alfred picked up the second the signal went through. “Yes, Master Clark?”
“Alfred I'm an idiot but we'll deal with that later. Look at the map. See those hotspots?”
“Yes?”
“If you were keeping a hostage and you wanted the time to let the chaos build and torment the captive's friends and family what would you do? You wouldn't want to be caught prematurely. You wouldn't be in the heart of the fire, right? You'd want to hide far away from it.”
“I see. You would like me to narrow the search to the quietest areas of the city.”
“Yeah. All this carnage is to keep the media, the cops and us so busy we can't see past it. It's a distraction.”
“A very good one.” Alfred sighed. “I have sent a filtered list for you, Master Clark. It is significantly smaller. Sionis seems to have done well for themselves during the war.”
“Thanks, Alfred.” Clark brought up the addresses and quickly began to sort through them, divvying out places he thought looked suspicious amongst his teammates as he came across them. “I'll keep in touch.”
As for himself, he believed they were finally on the right path. The computer could do the rest of the sorting and dispatching in his place, and if anything drastic came up Doctor Midnight was monitoring the news and League movements in the next room. Clark could cover near as much ground as Barry if neither of them got caught up settling any immediate and life threatening crimes along their search. J'onn and his gifted telepathy would have also been a great help in coordinating this search, however he had been informed that the Martian Manhunter had left Earth for personal reasons prior to this whole mess. Use what you have, don't wish for what you don't, Clark. He was just about to take off when Doctor Midnight beckoned out to him frantically. There upon the main monitor another grainy, hacked video feed started up much the same as it predecessor. The screen jostled as it was put into place, mad cackling followed suit, and a face not even a mother could love pressed slimy looking red lips to the screen, smearing the lens as lipstick was rubbed off with a sleeve.
“I'm so happy you're back, Supey! Devil knows if you're getting this message or not, but I'm going to take a long shot and guess you'll be seeing it some day.” The Joker shrugged his shoulders before continuing. “Look, big, blue, and ugly, you and I have never gotten along. I'm all showmanship and you're all... Whatever you are. It kind of made me a little jealous when I'd see you and Batsy playing together on the news. I actually was starting to think you two were more than just super-friends. Buuuuuuut, I guess not. I mean, I've had our nocturnal rodent friend trussed up forever and you've never once set foot in this city to come find him. And I really wanted you to be at the party too, despite how much I loathe that clashing red cape. Red and blue? Seriously? Did you even own a color wheel as a child? You know what, forget it. I hate your suit. There. It's out in the open. Now... I hate you, but like I said, the whole family has to be here for it to be extra special. But, this is our last show whether you're at the wedding or not. I was thinking maybe if I had the little mouse beg for you to come save him you might get off your fat blue ass and come down here? Bring him in, boys!”
The 'boys' never appeared before the camera. There was only the sounds of a metal door creaking open, feet shuffling forward, and the same door shutting once again. The Joker winked at the viewer and reached off camera to take hold of something. That something turned out to be the hand of a well dressed man in a black suit... A man in a bat shaped domino mask.
“That's Batman?” The Doctor said disbelievingly.
The Joker fussed over the suit, straightening lapels and tugging the vest down into proper place. Several times his hands got a little fresh as they tugged here and there on the fabric yet Bruce never flinched away. He barely looked to be breathing. The light in his eyes revealed them to be glassy, his sight turned inward.
“Tell me Sweetie, aren't you just miserable? Tell Papa how you hurt all over. I've starved you, I've beaten you... Played with you, too. I've done everything to you but kill you! Several times over, might I add. So I gotta ask you, when you're crying at night, who is it you're wishing would come save you? You know? 'Oh woe is I, Batsy! When shall blank come to save me from this pitiful fate?'”
“What are you going on about?” Bruce's voice was wearily soft.
“Oh come on! I thought you were going to cry for ole Big Blue but you haven't mentioned him once! I get it, already. You two aren't knocking boots like I thought. Buuuuuuuut, Batsy, there is a name that you've been crying for. Don't deny it! You whine his name every time you close your eyes!” The Joker forced Bruce to his knees before the camera, but the Dark Knight didn't seem to see it, his eyes locked on the Joker. “Maybe your caped friends know him? Maybe if you asked them nicely they would give him your final thoughts? Go on ,if you want the chance. Tell this asshole Kal how much you love him. Look into his eyes and ask him why he's not here. Make it tragic!”
Bruce finally looked away from the crazy clown, his face screwed up in confusion. Just by chance something caught his eye, and he stared into the lens and through it, straight into Clark's soul. Glassy eyes cleared as the captive knight's whole demeanour changed in an instant. “What is this for?” Bruce asked, sounding far less interested then his focused eyes would have you believe.
“We're live, Sugarbumps! In a sense. Eddie's signal bouncing doohicky apparently creates quite the delay between the film and the time of transmission. But the point is, it's about as live as an award show is going to be. You could have your final farewell if you like. It would make great television!”
“Where is this broadcasting? Who is seeing this?”
“Eddie assures me it's going straight back to those caped buffoons you hang out with. Really, Darling, they're a bad influence on you.”
Clark had both hands on the screen. Come on, Baby, give me something... “Get everybody online, Midnight. Let them know what's going on.”
“Right.”
“So this is live. It's broadcasting right back to the Justice League.”
“What are you, deaf? What did I just say?”
Bruce smiled broadly, all teeth. “I'm pretty sure you just said that no matter what I say or do, this message will get back to the League.”
“Wait a minute...” The Joker understood Bruce's intentions too slowly to react.
Bruce pointed upwards.“Gotham docks in the old Chinatown district.”
“You are so bad!” The clown squealed as he made a dive for the camera. The screen jostled violently, whirling from side to side until it settled on the shot of the Joker lying dazed on the ground, blood pouring from his nose and mouth, asking, “Did you get the licence plate of that car that hit me?”
“That's a good look for you.” Bruce's cruel sounding voice seemed to be the spawn of a personal score to settle.
Clark cheered him on as he waited for Bruce to reveal anything more. Barry and Diana were already on their way to the docks. If Bruce could just give them an exact location...
“ I like that half dead imagery. Yeah... you're pathetic and pitiful all at the same time, aren't you, Sweet-pea?”
The screen shook as Bruce moved throughout the bunker. Clark watched him pull open the metal door, take down oblivious guards with well positioned strikes, all while he made his way to a specific destination. His voice could be heard as the whole ordeal unfolded before Clark's eyes.
“I'm not sure which street I'm under.” He apologized. “But there is a path through the sewers in Chinatown that leads you right to this facility. It's three floors. Underground, obviously. I had no idea it even existed. Likely this is some kind of fallout shelter for scientists. Pretty sure I saw lead linings where some of the walls are falling apart. Look,” Bruce paused a moment as he needed both hands to open the next door. Clark watched him struggle with it. Bruce was thinner... Weaker. “It's not that important. This is.” The camera settled on a sweaty, worn out woman. She glanced up in surprise, but Clark could see relief in her eyes as she recognised Bruce. “This is Sophie Brandt. She's been shot twice and she needs help. She's the only Arkham staff member I couldn't save.” The camera dropped and Bruce stepped quickly over to the doctor, bending to take her hand in his. “Stay here, Sophie. Don't make a noise. Someone is coming to get you.”
“What about you?” Doctor Brandt demanded.
“I only stunned the Joker. He's going to come looking for me any second now. I can't be here with you, Sophie. He'll kill you. He's got no reason not to any more.”
“No.” She pleaded. “It's you he'll kill. He keeps saying he's going to kill you. Can't we bar the door? You said people are coming to get us.”
Bruce pulled away from her, shaking his head. “It's might take too long for them to get here. I can't really explain. Stay here, Sophie. Please.” And then Bruce was moving again, camera in hand, leaving no trace that he had been to see the frightened woman. He moved back towards the Joker, giving the clown no reason to come anywhere near the other captive. Sacrificing himself for another. In a wide open room Bruce finally stopped. His breath was short when he raised the camera to look into it. Before he spoke, Clark knew his words were meant for him. Bruce's eyes were soft, a sad smile painted on his face. “You'll save her, right?” A soft laugh. “What am I saying? Of course you will... It's what you do. So don't... Don't blame yourself, okay? I should have been better. I'm sorry... I'm sorry I wasn't better.” A self conscious shrug. “But Kal...” He caught himself, smiling wryly. Bruce didn't call him Kal. “Clark... Tell them I'm sorry. Tell them I love them. And Clark... I really didn't want to do it this way, but... Clark I lo –”
“There you are!” Falsetto nails scratched along the auditory chalkboard. “You should have just said you needed some alone time to say goodbye. Now,” The camera toppled, all the screen broadcasting was a shot of the room from a floor view, fresh blood spattered across it. “That's for hitting me. You made me do that. And no thanks to you we gotta get the hell out of dodge before your friends show up. Come on, Princess!” The broadcast continued to capture their fading footsteps... and then nothing.
It was time to move. Scenery blurred by as his body travelled at speeds he hadn't thought possible. We're running out of time, Bruce... Just hold on a little longer for me. The last serene image of Bruce was burned into his vision. He had smiled so sweetly, allowed himself to openly show Clark the wells of emotion that lay hidden behind cape and cowl, all because... You were going to tell me... You love me, don't you? You sweet, adorable, perfect creature. Don't you dare let go! I still have to tell you too... I love you. So it was by drawing on that knowledge that he found himself above the Gotham docks, scanning the area for the tell tale signs of any city's Asian quarter. Diana's radioed transmission lead him to her location center field.
“Kal.” She was relieved to see him. “The Flash is searching the sewers as fast as he can. I meant to aid him as soon as the police Commissioner gets a team down to this location. They do not want to take any chances with this Joker.” She spat the name as if it tasted foul in her mouth. “Barry hasn't updated me yet. I don't know where exactly he's covered –”
Clark nodded absently, cycling through the various ways he could view the world as one could flip through a Rolodex, hoping at least one vision would show him the way. Levitated to get a better perspective. He circled slowly, both seeing and hearing the crimes all around them. The robbery in progress at a fish market of all places went down without a police officer available to chase down a petty crook. Two stolen cars collided into each other and then an old apartment building. The car's two drunk, underage drivers pulled themselves from the wreckage to run off, leaving the flaming debris to quickly consume a building that by all means should have been condemned a decade ago. There would be no firefighters coming to save this building tonight. Crimes were all around him but as he sieved through the noise he found he was left with nothing in hand. He couldn't hear Bruce or the Joker in the symphony of this chaos.
At last his desperate eyes fell upon a long stretch of road he couldn't see through. There were very few substances that could conceal secrets from his eyes, the chief of which was a little something called atomic number eighty-two. That must be it. That's the fallout shelter! “Diana – ” He called out in a rush of desperate need and relief. He had found it. Bruce's prison. They were going to save him!
...Only there were cries around him. Cries he couldn't ignore. Cries Bruce would never forgive him for if he ignored them. The building the cars had crashed into was a shelter for a small community of impoverished mothers and their children. They were shaken from sleep to find themselves trapped in a sea of smoke and burning timbers. Not two streets away a roving gang chased down a young woman who had lost her way, their intentions plain to see. Clark struggled with what he wanted to do, and what he knew he should. In and out. I'll just clear away the flames and go. He told himself frantically. But what if the structure is too damaged and it cave in on them once I leave?
“Oh, God, what do I do?” There was no other way to put it. He was freaking out.
“Kal, what is it? What have you found?” Diana hovered before him, searching his wide-eyed face for answers.
“T-Tell Barry to head back this way. East, just a mile up from here is a lead construct I can't see into. It could be where Bruce is.”
“What are we waiting for?” She admonished.
He pointed. “There's a group of men about to beat and rape a woman in the next sixty seconds in that direction.” With another hand he pointed towards the fire. “...And over here a building full of mom's and their kids up in flames.”
Diana ran hands through her hair looking helplessly back at him. She knew his dilemma. They were protectors of the people first. Bruce was a warrior in his own right. Bruce would have done the same. “I'll stop the assault and let Barry know where to go. You save those children. We'll Follow Barry when we're done.”
“Yeah.” He agreed.
The feet of the last child he had pulled from the flames had barely touched the snow before he was back, soaring along the docks until he found an entry point. Voices that were carried along on the stench of sewage lead him through a winding maze of causeways before he came upon it. The lead encased shelter from a bygone era. It stood with door wide open, hallways littered with unconscious and restrained thugs, most still dressed in remnants of their Blackgate prison attire. There was no doubt, now. These were the Joker's crew, and this was the structure that had held Bruce. The place where the lunatic had... I will make him pay. The next hallway he came across he recognised from the video. Sure enough a large metal door hung on a single hinge, inside were Diana and Barry... and the doctor Bruce had asked him to save.
“Sophie Brandt?” He asked.
The doctor did a double-take of him. As if she could not believe that Superman stood before her now when mere moments ago the poor woman had probably thought she had seen the last of her days. Also surprising was that she was remarkably in control of herself. Doctor Brandt didn't cry tears of joy or relief. “...And then he left here. He told me to stay put.”
Barry was the first to reach his side. “I've looked everywhere in here. I can't find them, Superman.” The world's fastest man looked bone weary and just as much at a loss as Clark.
Clark put a comforting hand on Barry's shoulder and squeezed. They both knew that they were just going to have to keep looking. Bruce had been here. He couldn't have gone too far, could he?
“What now, Kal?” Diana asked just as she was helping the woman to her feet, intent upon taking her to safety. Sophie Brandt stared wildly at him just then, and broke free from Diana to stumbled into his arms.
“You're Kal?” She clutched to him, knuckles white. “You're his Kal. He kept asking for you in his sleep. When the Joker would... He kept asking for you to forgive him.”
He took hold of her shoulders now, trembling as he looked down at her. “Do you have any idea where he is?”
She shook her head forlornly, finally losing her composure. “I d-don't... I'm s-s-sorry!” Sophie wept and Clark held the doctor to him, her tears coaxing the ones he was holding back.
Barry took hold of his bicep with one hand and with the other the Flash soothingly stroked tense shoulderblades and upper back muscles. The motions drew his attention, distracting him from his tears before they could fall. He did this as Diana took the shaking doctor from him, her intentions to bring Sophie Brant to the ambulances and police cars gathering above ground. Clark was left fighting an internal war against rising fears and desperation once again. Finding this shelter had given him hope... This hollow... Barren...
“Hey, Big Guy...” Barry was before him, holding his shoulders and commanding all his attention as the Flash looked up at him. “There are barricades all around the city. Batman has to be in Gotham, above or below. We have a starting point. I can search the sewers throughout this city faster than anybody. You want to take the high ground?” The Flash's tone was soothing... Understanding. I know. It told Clark. This isn't just a missing friend, Superman. I know.
Clark regarded Barry, wondering just how obvious the weird romance between Bruce and he actually was before he remembered there were more important things to wonder. He nodded his assent and the Flash gave him a soft, strangely empathetic smile in return.
“It's not easy... The not knowing part. Especially when you love them.” The Flash explained, his words coming from some personal experience Clark would ask him about one day. “Keep in touch, Superman. We'll find him.” And with that last conviction, the Flash took off.
Left behind in the woosh of Barry's sudden departure Clark turned to Diana only to find... She was gone. He had had no idea when she had left with the Doctor. I have no idea why I'm still here. He reprimanded himself and took off towards the surface. But once there the hopelessness of the situation truly struck him. How am I suppose to look for you, Bruce? You could be anywhere in this city. A city full of millions of people. Sure, he could section the city off into quadrants and identify each person in each section systematically... But how long would that take? Too long... But what else can I do?
What else? He started with Chinatown.
The moon was rising, a clearing in the clouds allowing her light to illuminate the chaos below. He drifted upwards into the clearing solemnly, finished with his scan of the Gotham docks and having nothing to show for it. Hopelessness devoured him.
And then...
So entrenched as he was in his own thoughts he almost missed the signal buzzing in his own damn ear. “Alfred? Do you – ”
“Clark,” There was no formal 'master' before Alfred's fast tumble of words. “The emergency frequency has been turned on...”
Alfred's coordinates identified a tall clock tower as the source of the emergency broadcast. He cleaved the clouds with the sonic boom he left in his wake, telescoping his vision to focus in on the three bodies occupying a city lookout deck. One was standing. A mid sized bald man who was heavily scarred in a cross-hatching pattern. Clark could see the knives on his person, one cruelly curled and jagged one held fast in the man's hand. The other hand stroked the blade in a disturbingly sexual manner. A few steps away from the scarred man, spread out upon a dark wine colored coat – funny how you noticed details like that even in the heart of panic – was the green haired and pale skinned monster straddling the pliant man below him. The man on the ground wasn't fighting back as the Clown Prince laughed hysterically, stroking himself as he more than enjoyed the ride.
Clark closed in, eyes locked on the glassy blues that peered out from behind a fancy domino mask. Bruce was eerily still as the Devil himself used the Dark Knight's body to satisfy itself. If it weren't for his ability to see Bruce's still beating heart, he would have sworn Bruce was already dead. Those glassy, empty eyes seemed to stare back at him, although he knew that was impossible. The moon. Clark just knew. He's watching the moon.
The bald man was at their side now, knife poised to kill the Joker. The Joker gave the man a half-nod before he turned his attentions back to Bruce. He stopped stroking himself to instead close both hands down on Bruce's neck. The Joker's rocking hips began to bounce wildly once the Knight realized he was being choked. He was murdering Bruce. And getting off on it. After a moment he removed one hand to produce his own knife. The Joker dragged it across Bruce's lips, drawing blood, and leaned down to kiss him. The knife slipped into place, ready to open his throat, and the bald man's knife twitched, seconds from making it's own plunge.
Clark knew in his mind that even at his current speed... Even if he managed to fire a laser that didn't smoke all three of them together... There was just not enough time. Seconds. Mere seconds stood between saving Bruce and...
His body kept moving. His heart would never accept the logic.
Empty eyes, swollen now but still vacant, found their way back up to face the moon.
...And they widened.
...And Clark's widened with them.
A primal cry filled the air, kept on filling the air as the Joker was thrown violently off of the Dark Knight. Bruce scrambled away from the fallen clown his back hitting the railing and leaving himself nowhere to go to escape the bald man and his vicious looking knife.
He didn't have to.
Bruce had given him the precious seconds he needed to bridge the gap. He collided with the bald fiend, satisfied with the feel of several ribs breaking before he tossed him unceremoniously over by a support column. Bruce was still screaming but it seemed to be involuntary... He's freaking out. Clark realized. I hate to do this fast, asshole, but he's losing his mind over there. He glowered at the clown, who was just now getting his footing, and took it right out from under him.
“You came.” The Clown grinned. “Oh? I didn't know... Ooh... you were into... Ouch... This kind of thing.”
Clark sneered as he worked through the clown's body one limb at a time, breaking every bone individually. He worked more quickly then he'd have liked, but Bruce needed him more than he needed to make the clown suffer. Barely more. So he moved onwards to the clown's spine, careful not to do more then paralyse him from the waist down. He wanted the crazy fuck to keep breathing. To know what had happened to him. When he was done, the bastard would be in a body cast for a year.
“You, ah...” The clown wheezed. “You sure you got them all?” He tried to laugh and failed, coughing instead. “Man, have we met before? I s-swear the Big Blue I know would never be this hands on.”
He shot the maniac a look mixed with all his rage and the effort to keep it in check. “We've never been properly introduced.” He said evenly. “I'm Kal.”
“Oh, shit.” The clown sighed before Clark finally knocked him unconscious. The bald man was still out for the count too.
That left just the shrieking, terrified mess huddled in the corner to deal with. Bruce was alive... But he wasn't okay. Not by a long shot. Clark tried to approach him gently, but it only provoked the Knight into clawing his way to his unsteady feet in an effort to escape. The shrieking was cut short, replace by a show of teeth and wild eyes, unseeing the Dark Knight's surroundings as anything other then hostile. His exhausted body and mind had settled into pure adrenaline run survival mode. He hated to do it, but Clark used his speed to get a hold of Bruce, fighting to keep him contained without hurting the thrashing man.
Inside he was having a freakout of his own. The League was hailing him. Alfred was hailing him. Bruce was wild in his arms. He wasn't sure what to do. “Bruce... It's me.” He whispered softly. “Stop fighting now.” He tried to keep a hold of him with one hand while he contacted Alfred first, and then the League. “I have him. He's alive. I'll contact you in a moment.” His voice was robotic.
It took a moment before he realized that Bruce wasn't pulling away from him anymore. Clark watched him carefully as the Dark Knight lifted a trembling hand out to caress the 'S' symbol. The trembling hand clutched at it, confused eyes searching carefully. Making sure it was real. Bruce flinched at his touch, but then allowed him to cup his face with one hand. Clark assessed his blood was still pumping, but he was calming down. Still wary, but calming. He watched fatigue settle over Bruce, taking the fight straight out of him. Only then did Clark try once again to talk to him.
“Bruce...”
Those ice blue eyes flickered up to meet his. Bruce was still confused but the Knight glanced once more at the symbol and then stepped in closer to him. He trusted the symbol to be safe. He trusted the person wearing it to keep it that way. Clark was touched. “You're not seeing things properly, I gather. It's all right, Bruce. I'm here, and you're safe now. Do you understand?”
Bruce nodded slowly.
“Okay. Stay here a second, I'll be right back.” The childlike noise Bruce made as they parted held him fast in his tracks. “I'll be right back.” He said again. “Promise.”
He's calm for now... Clark assured himself as he turned back towards the fallen criminals. They were as he had left them, broken and limp, each sprawled across the cold ground which as far as he was concerned was exactly where they belonged. Still, blood was filling Baldy's lungs slowly and pooling in the clown's stomach... He would have to get them medical attention. As a matter of principal. He dragged the Joker over carelessly to the railing first before he dealt with the scarred man. As he leaned down to grip the nearest ankle the familiar shape of the dark bat-cowl caught his attention. He stood sharply and took a careful look around. It was the only piece of Bruce's armor present, and the only item in the clock tower that was out of place. The lower access areas and ground floor were empty. Baldy was unceremoniously tossed in the same pile as the clown before he collected the cowl and brought it over to the anxious looking Dark Knight. Bruce accepted the cowl tentatively, running a hand over the sculpted scowl permanently affixed to the mask. It seemed almost like he were seeing it for the first time, which was silly, for the same hands that were holding it awkwardly now had sculpted the damn cowl in the first place.
“Hey...” Pale fingers reached out to feather touch the 'S' symbol at the sound of his voice. Clark faltered slightly, unsure of exactly the best course of action. I just want to take you home... I want to hold you until everything else goes away and it's just you and me. I want to protect you. His own large hand closed over Bruce's. Wiry and veined with long steely piano fingers, it still seemed so small and delicate in his warm hand. “I should get you out of here.” He said professionally. It was the only way he could keep it together until they were safely away.
He dressed the Knight in the wine coloured coat and pulled up the hood. Bruce simply stood as he buttoned it up, achieving a disconcerting doll like quality Clark had never seen in a living person before. With only an arm around his waist he coaxed Bruce to stand atop his boot and then gathered the two broken bodies at his feet without a care for how they hanged and took off. As it was before it was easy to find Jim Gordon and the troupe of police cars and ambulances that followed at his heel. Clark noticed some of the women and their children from the burning building being treated on site amongst the frenzy of activity below. He hovered five feet above Jim Gordon and keeping with tradition unceremoniously dropped the two broken creatures in a heap before lighting down gently with Bruce in tow.
Jim stared for only a moment. “You all right, son?” He asked in a hushed tone full of genuine care. He waited for the hooded figure to nod once before he let relief show on his worn features. “If it's all the same to you I think I can handle things from here. You want to call it a night?” Bruce gave the Commissioner the ghost of what would have been a wry grin but Jim played along as if this was just any other night in Gotham City. “I'm campaigning to change the G.C.P.D. name to Batman's Cleanup Crew, you know that?” The Commissioner waved them off and dove head first back into the chaos around him. No heartfelt welcome or farewell or wishes of swift recovery... Just like Bruce preferred. How well these two men knew each other.
He watched the Clown and Baldy get strapped in and packed away into different armored vehicles made into make-shift ambulances and drive away. With a final wish of slow painful days in the infirmary for both of them he drove the two monsters from his mind. Chalk it up to the kind of fatigue only worry could bring a man, but he never heard Barry approach until the Flash was right on top of them. If the Flash noticed how shaky, thin and haunted the Dark Knight looked he made no mention of it. Clark felt Bruce stiffen until he reached out to touch the yellow bolt of lightning laid over white, recognising the emblem and relaxing. He even - albeit rather awkwardly – accepted Barry's encompassing bear hug.
“So where are you taking him?” Barry asked point blank.
It was a good question. Away from Gotham, he knew that much. The City wasn't safe yet... But he didn't think Bruce would want the boys to see him like this. As for seeking medical attention, Bruce would only go to Dr. Leslie Thompkins if given the choice. Her confidentiality and familiarity with him was especially important given his current state and the nature of a select few injuries. But Leslie's free clinic was bound be overflowing with people on account of the recent onslaught of carnage. He doubted she would have the space to treat Bruce privately. Bruce stepped in closer to him... or more accurately hid beside him. Looking around to see what the man was shying away from he took in the growing crowd of civilians and media the police wouldn't be able to hold back for too long.
“Superman!”
“Flash!”
“Justice League!”
“Who is that?”
“Are the rumours of the missing Batman true?”
“The Joker was brought in?”
“Superman!”
“Is that the Batman?”
“Just who is that?”
Clark gently steered his comrades deeper into the flurry of the on site medical personnel and away from the prying eyes of television and onlookers. With Bruce still so close and the few people around them far too busy to look up he made a completely non professional concession, choosing to draw the man closer still, allowing himself this moment to just... hold Bruce. To plant a soft kiss on top of a hooded head. To thank every god and goddess of every religion ever for giving him the opportunity to lose himself in those icy blue eyes once again.
The closing crowd roared.
Barry sighed. “Whoa...”
The cacophony had driven the indecisiveness from him. “Could you stay with him and try to see of you can flag down Diana to fly him back to League headquarters?”
“Sure.” Barry said immediately. “Anything else?”
“I'm going to get his doctor first but do you think you could meet me back here in a bit?”
'”Just who is that?” Someone had asked.
Better if they never find out.
As he moved to leave he caught the stressed expression on Bruce's face. The crowd was loud and the camera lights distracting. He could tell the Knight wanted to flee the noise and the confusion and despite having Barry right there beside him, it was the golden 'S' on his chest that the injured man looked desperately towards. The gold emblem was what had calmed him initially. It meant salvation to a mind surely fractured... Clark removed his red cape and folding it neatly into a square, golden 'S' facing out, handed it to the anxious man. He then took a few tentative steps back to see if Bruce would understand the gesture. Clark watched Bruce hug the bundle to his chest and lower his head. Whether to stare at his feet or the fabric in his arms, he couldn't say. But for now Bruce was calm again. Now he could do what needed to be done.
“I'll see you both in a bit.”
- 10
- 11
- 12
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Tears and Rain