Chapter Text
“We men are wretched things.”
- Homer, “The Iliad”
His armor sits at his bedside as he wraps his torso. He hisses through his teeth as his fingers brush the fresh wounds in his ribs, where Croc’s teeth had left a mark similar to a shark-bite. His back faces the door, in case any Leaguer were to walk past.
Bruce knows they may speculate at who he is, but he does not want to give them any more reason not to trust him than they already do. He does this in a spare room, smuggles the materials he needs to restore his indomitable will in his body. Once the bandages are secured, he fits his armor back on a piece at a time. The plates over his chest prove difficult.
The door squeaks behind him. He slides his cowl back on in a rush. “Get out.” He glances over his shoulder but only stiffens. He tries to move the chest plate again, but white-hot pain from his shoulder makes him gasp. “I’m fine.”
He knows he means well, but there is always persistence with which Superman tends to his friends. There is no argument.
Clark shuts the door. His eyes glow blue as he crosses the room. “Your shoulder’s dislocated.”
Bruce stands up before Clark can touch him. “I said I’m fine. I can put my own shoulder back in.”
His lips part. His brows come together and his hand, out to help, returns to his side empty. “You don’t have to do it yourself.”
Bruce sighs through his nose and the Kryptonian takes it as a sign. He moves closer, guiding him to sit on the stool Bruce had dragged in here. Clark takes his bicep in one firm hand and the other he cups around his shoulder. He blots out the sun--no, he is the sun, and he makes a motion to breathe in, to breathe out, to relax. Bruce never manages it, but on the second try the tension leaves him.
Clark is everything and enough to make Bruce feel small, but never safe.
“On three.” Clark warns. “One--”
With a short jerk, he forces his shoulder back into the socket. Bruce grabs a fistful of Clark’s cape and leans on him until his breathing comes back to normal. His eyes sting.
“Sorry,” Clark lets go and steps back. “They say it hurts less if it’s a surprise.”
Bruce lets out a huff, his version of a laugh. “Anyone who says things like ‘it’ll hurt less’ are lying through their teeth.”
He tests his range of motion. The muscles are tender, his bones ache, but like countless other times, it would have to do. He finishes arming himself. The moment he knows he should say “thank you” comes and passes.
Instead, he says, “Bruce. I’m Bruce.” And he guesses it’s the same thing.
The moment he is sure Superman should be surprised comes and passes. He has known the Man of Steel in this professional, superficial way for two years now. He is sure he knows Clark far, far better than Clark will ever know him, but yet, it’s Bruce who is surprised.
Clark’s blue eyes glint in the low light. “Bruce Wayne. I know.”
“How?”
“Lois figured it out.” Clark crosses his arms, his smile a little wider than normal.
Bruce squints at him, but confirms something he had his suspicions about. “Jealousy doesn’t become us, Clark.”
The Man of Steel shakes his head with mild annoyance, but never loses his good humor. “She was right about that too. You are stubborn.” Clark shrugs and heads for the door. “Manhunter’s briefing us about Apokolips in ten minutes. See you then, Bruce.”
He leaves the room and for the first time since construction on the Watchtower finished, space felt cold.
Bruce shivers under three layers of nano-grade armor. He scoffs. Yes, he is unbending but not without cause. The Justice League enters its second year in a matter of weeks and when that day comes, they will be hovering over a hostile alien world led by a conqueror named Darkseid.
The author of The Art of War wrote that the maxim of skill was to avoid battle and if war was inevitable, to ensure one had to tools to win. Strong conviction keeps Bruce sharp, keeps his team alive, keeps him sane enough to do his job.
He does not have time to be anything else. He relies on Clark to bring justice into the light, but friendship is something he had given up on long ago, anything further is impossible.
He relies on Clark to be a great man, so that if called upon, he knew the path to be a good one.