Chapter Text
The first mistake Clark made was to trade a closer look at the man’s face for fast approaching.
To be fair, Bruce had been missing for about a month. Eventually, the Justice League and his kids back in Gotham found out that he was displaced by a sudden time and space turbulence and likely transported to a parallel universe. Since the rift that sucked Bruce away was temporary and unstable, it only lasted a few seconds before collapsing on itself. Therefore, it made Bruce look like vanishing into thin air.
This unfortunate accident created great difficulty for the League and the kids on tracing where Bruce ended up. After meticulous investigation of the site where Bruce disappeared and calculation, they reached an unfavorable conclusion:
There was not enough energy signature to grant a proper search in the never ending list of multiverses. Therefore Bruce had to fight and found his own way back home. Open another rift from the other end if he remembered his universe’s coordinate.
There was no guarantee that the universe where Bruce was sent was friendly or even assembled with anything familiar to this world. The technology could be dramatically different and it would take Bruce years to study or build a rift generator. He could be sent to the dark age where electricity was not even a thing. Even multiverse and time travel were no foreign subjects to the Justice League nor Batman, it’s hard to say the possibility of Bruce’s survival in another universe or his chance to get back home.
Clark trusted Bruce’s ability and determination. If there was anyone who could survive the odds and achieve the impossible, it must be Bruce. Bruce was one of a kind. Through a decade of working together and being friends, the more Clark learned about Bruce, the more he was impressed by him. Then the impression became admiration; admiration grew into something more tender and brighter.
It became a dilemma. The more Clark believed in Bruce, the more worried sometimes he could get. Clark was worried sick. It’s irrational. Clark knew, but he couldn’t help it.
Clark missed Bruce’s calm heartbeat, his snarky comments, and his recluse but caring nature. He missed the big bad Bats’ stubbornness, his notorious glares, and his tiny but victorious smirk. It’s clear as the day, Clark had fallen for the infamous Gotham Bats, head over hills.
There was no way Clark wouldn't worry about him. Especially now, when the situation was downright unfavorable.
Good news was: Flash and J’onn helped develop some device that could trace the special frequency of energy emitted by the space and time rift when it was about to re-open. They set it up mostly for listening to the SOS signals, but in theory, they could catch this signal minutes, if not hours, before the rift was about to open, therefore they could use the technology on the Watchtower to stabilize the rift and give Bruce enough time to pass through.
Today was the day.
J’onn noticed Clark that they detected something. Clark dropped everything and was there in no time. When he arrived, Flash was jogging on the cosmic treadmill to help generate energy to power up the rift generator and to jump in if things go south. A few other senior members of the Justice League were present, in case there was any unfriendly outsider who would follow after Bruce through the rift.
Bruce was not someone who would be considered lucky and good fortune if you knew his life story. At least not after his parents’ infamous murders, which shadowed him in a way even the dumbest Brucie scandal can’t shake the gloom off.
The expert who worked on solving the missing Bats mystery didn’t mention anything about why it had to be Bruce who was sucked into the parallel universe - probably there was no concrete evidence to back up their theory, so they chose to stay silent - but Clark knew better. Bruce was picked up. There must be a reason. Either someone really needed Bruce’s help or someone hated him so much. Either of them eventually led to fights. Clark was never so eager for a good fight, and he couldn’t be more ready.
The only thing to stop him pacing like a caged animal on the deck was to not interrupt other people’s work.
It only took a few minutes for the rift generator to buzz to life. A space and time rift was opening. J’onn announced that this was supposed to be the one leading Bruce back home. Once the rift opened large enough and was semi-stabled, Clark saw the blurred figures on the other side.
One for sure was Bruce. In a few seconds and with a piercing loud ringing vibrated in the air, the rift was stable enough to allow Bruce to pass. Clark finally get a better look at the person he missed so much.
Bruce was in a broken and oddly bulky Batman suit which certainly had seen better days. He looked like being roughed and beaten up. The cowl was broken, barely covering his upper face and hanging on Bruce’s head. A trail of blood was streaming down from the forehead where it was under the cowl and down to his chin and neck, periodically dropping to his chest plate. More blood was smeared on the broken armor plates. Bruce was clearly exhausted and on the verge of collapsing. His eyes were glassy and a bit unfocused. It‘s the sheer determination and stubbornness that carried his feet moving forward, stumbling across the thin barrier between two different universes.
To their surprise, there was another slender figure who was literally dragged along back to their world by Bruce. Last time the League checked, there was only Batman who was transported to the other universe. A ragged and bloody gray gown with a hood which covered the one from head to toe. It’s probably a man, considering his height and the flat body shape which could be barely made out under the gown loosely hugging him. His head was tilting forward, seemingly unconscious.
Bruce had one arm tightly wrapped around the other’s waist, and the other’s arm looped around Bruce’s neck for Bruce to grab. Bruce carried both of their weights and crossed the rift in one attempt. His labored breath was so loud that Clark didn’t need super hearing to hear that.
There was no one following them. The rift was shuttered and then busted, closed right after both of them made it through. The air was charged with escaping energy and everything on the deck seemed slightly fried and singing a light buzzing.
Bruce took another step forward and groaned loudly, his knees buckled and then gave out.
In a split second, Clark briefly switched on his x-ray vision to scan and ensure Bruce didn’t have any serious bleeding wounds, broken bones, or failing organs. Much to Clark’s relief, there were none, just a few cracked ribs and ugly bruises. Nothing that Bruce couldn’t heal after a good week of rest. It’s the other man who Bruce was carrying actually lit up like fireworks or silver-purple neon lights wrapping up on a skeleton in x-ray vision. Clark didn’t give it too much thought, despite thinking he might be alien. It might be the very second mistake he made at that moment.
And the third mistake, also the most detrimental one, was that Clark moved in too fast. He was in front of Bruce before Bruce involuntarily dropped on the floor. Clark reached out, lifting both of their weight and held them in the middle of the air. Bruce jerked his head up and looked at Clark with widened eyes. His lips were slightly parted, and a sound was about to come out from the back of his throat. Probably Clark’s name.
But the other man was not as out as Clark had assumed. Stirred, he suddenly was hyper aware of his surroundings, or who was standing in his front and had a hand on him. At least, to say, the man was poked in a bad way. He was terrified. And so scared, he yanked himself off Bruce and took a shakily side step to get away from Clark.
Clark caught the man again, purely out of reflex. And he firmly grabbed him only because the other struggled. There was no time for Bruce to explain when everything with this man was falling into chaos. The hood came off when the man desperately tried to back off and escape, revealing the face underneath it.
“Bruce?”
Involuntarily, Clark called out.
The face revealed belonged to no other than Bruce Wayne. Or a version of Bruce Wayne who had never experienced any hardship in life and lived in a recluse basement in where he never saw daylight. In short, he looked young and pretty. He was also very pale, his skin was white as the porcelain doll. And he became even paler when Clark called and reached to him.
A violent pull from “Bruce” forced Clark to release him. “Bruce” from the other universe yanked himself away from Clark’s hold and dropped on the ground, scrambling back and away. The loose gown was torn open and revealed half an ugly large purple handprint on his slender neck - the other half was hidden underneath the soft grey turtleneck. He didn’t show much expression, but bit his lips hard enough to draw blood. He made no sound other than shuffling the clothes and the kicks on the deck.
But you knew something horrible and wrong had happened when you took a look at him. Something mortified and abominable.
“Kal stop!”
The same time, Bruce - his Bruce - shrinked for a fleeting moment, like Clark’s touch burned, but then he forced himself to stay put under Clark’s grab. His evading reaction didn’t escape Clark. Clark was frozen, and the other Bruce took the chance to get out of his reach.
Clark whipped his head and stared at Bruce with widened eyes, losing all his words.
Bruce was in bad shape and barely held on to his consciousness, but they stared at each other for a long moment. Clark couldn’t make out all those complicated and confusing feelings in those steel blue eyes, but one thing he knew for sure was that Bruce prohibited - or begged - him to not go after the other “Bruce”.
Other League members moved in only a few seconds late. Hal constructed a green bubble separated from the other “Bruce”, J’onn flew into the bubble and offered to talk.
Clark lost what’s happening next to him. His full attention was now on his Bruce. His Bruce took a deep breath and clearly held himself there to not turn and look for his counterpart. His Bruce was bothered, or concerned, might even slightly scared about what’s happening to his counterpart, but he didn’t look.
“Get out. Now.” Bruce bit out the words, before he collapsed in Clark’s arms.
Clark took Bruce to the medical bay without hesitating. His counterpart was sedated and carried down there by Green Lantern soon after.
The medical team was notified beforehand and was ready to take Bruce over from Clark when he arrived. They had Clark lowered Bruce on a gurney and jumped into work with no delay. They also had another one ready and a few staff standing by waiting for Bruce’s doppelganger when Hal and J’onn transported the unconscious man to here.
Soon, Clark and Hal were kicked out of the medical bay and forced to stay in the waiting area. J’onn stayed inside to help evaluate the consciousness of the patients. Later, Flash was called over as an expert for this whole multiverse travel thing and some other tech support.
Clark didn’t sulk. No. That’s not what he was doing now, but after a while of intense pacing in the waiting area, Hal started to give him odd looks.
“Spooky will live. I have no doubt about that.” Hal had one hand clutching on his chin and the elbow rested on the armrest. His whole body was tilting to one side and in a relaxed position. “But if I were you, I would rather spend my time worrying about the other Spooky on the operation table.”
It seemed everybody was certain the other man Bruce brought home was his counterpart. At least Clark and Hal were on the same page.
Clark came to a halt and whipped around to face Hal. “Why?”
He didn’t really give much thought about the other man Bruce carried to their world. Somehow the other man just didn’t register in Clark’s mind as dangerous or suspicious. Might be due to his appearance. One quick glance under that hood told Clark that this one was no threat to anything, and now Clark could list all the reasons why Bruce took him over to their world.
Apparently, the other Bruce was also badly injured. That’s one good reason to go by. Clark didn’t get a close look of the surroundings of the other universe since the portal only opened for under a minute and more than half the time it was unstable. But there was smoke everywhere and explosions in the background. Leaving the man there meant leaving him to die.
However, it was odd in his x-ray scan, the man had all these flashing things entwined with his bones and nerves like a second neuro system.
And there was something loathsome about him that Clark was unable to tell. Unable to point a finger at. Like a bad omen.
“He was terrified.” Hal contemplated. “He lost all his shits when you approached him, and it only got worse when we cornered him later.”
“He was not in his right mind.” Clark recalled and assumed. “He got beaten up. Almost choked to death. A broken leg. They're probably more wounds and bruises that we haven’t seen under that gown. Traumatized . Some PTSD. And we look like a whole bunch of strangers trying to put him down, good and for all.”
Hal leaned to another side and changed the hand and arm used to support his weight. He looked almost thoughtful when he said “he knew us.”
Not like Hal was dumb or something, it didn’t strike Clark that Hal was the type into the micro expression and behavior study. One time too many Hal played too brass to care what others felt even he could read into these.
Bet this doppelganger really pushed Hal’s buttons. Or Hal really cared about Bruce . Not that Hal didn’t care about him before - sometimes Clark saw these two happily bickering and exchanging snarky comments during some missions Bruce deemed them insufferably stupid - but it’s just…
No, it’s just Clark overthinking.
Clark frowned. “How do you know?”
“Might be that I was standing at the back and had a whole picture of how this shit fell apart?” Hal said. “I saw his face and I saw how he reacted when you - when we rushed to the other Spooky’s side. He dodged the first few helping hands. Our helping hands. I had to come up with a shield to restrict his move. That’s something .”
“He was trained.” The realization started to sink into Clark. He started to wonder what made him think the other “Bruce” was all sweet and innocent.
“Something like that.”
Hal fell quiet after this. Clark chewed over their little conversation and sudden revelation in his mind.
He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with this piece of information. All the Bruces he had met in other universes, they were all well trained and became Batman, or some equivalent of Batman. Guessing it was no surprise that this one was also some highly trained, deadly ninja, even though he looked young and too pale and not strong built.
The door leading to the medical bay slid open, Flash zipped out.
“How is he doing?” Clark was in front of Flash in one blink of an eye.
His sudden movement poked Flash in the wrong way. Barry made an awkward yip and almost jumped out of his skin. “Gosh, Sups!”
Clark was embarrassed. The ugly snort that Hal made in the background definitely did not help. “I’m sorry. But how are things going? Is he okay?”
“Yeah, Bruce is okay and the nurses patch him up very well. Hooked him up with some IV. Look I don’t really know what he has been through in the other world but I think it’s tough. He needs a lot of rest. A lot of rest. I think time flew faster in the other universe? He didn't suddenly age up like ten years old, but had a few wounds that both healed too fast considering he disappeared for only one month, but we have to check it with him to know for sure. The doc gives him something pretty strong, so I don’t think he will be up until tomorrow.”
Flash speed ran Clark with Bruce’s updated condition. He had one hand on his hip and made a vague gesture with another hand.
“The problem is the other, uhm, Bruce.” Flash was a little unsure and vibrated at the spot. “Should I call him Bruce? He does look like Bruce. We ran a DNA test, and the results came back, well, let’s say it’s indefinite. But it does line up with his anatomy in a way…”
“What’s wrong?” Clark was thinking about what he saw under x-ray. “Is he alien?”
Flash gaped at him. “That’s- that's a bit overkill.” He managed a nervous chuckle. “He is, uhm, hermaphrodite. That messed up with the DNA match you know? And with a whole bunch of weird alien implants in him. Like Brainiac kind of weird alien implants.”
“Shit.” Hal cursed, while Clark looked concerned but fell silent.
He sensed Flash had yet finished his update, and Clark was right.
Berry eyed Clark in a strange way, and he looked a bit pale and unease. After a long moment, he timidly and quietly added.
“And Kryptonian kind of implants, too.”
But yet, there was another shoe that had to drop. A side glance at Flash’s badly suppressed resentful expression could tell this much to Clark.
Something else happened or Flash had found out, Clark reckoned, it’s just yet that they were waiting for more solid evidence.
A nurse came out of the medical bay and informed them that they were going to transfer his Bruce to a private observation room.
She quickly ran Bruce’s condition with Clark and comforted him that there was nothing serious and he should be good as new after a few days of bedrest - like hell Bruce was going to lie in bed and let time wash away all his pain and fatigue. Saying him is a workaholic didn’t even get to touch the surface.
Hal smirked at Clark when he heard Bruce was doing fine. Then he strolled away, taking Flash with him. Flash looked like he could really use some company.
J’onn had not yet emerged from the medical bay. It’s likely he was helping with investigating whatever the implants were in the other Bruce’s body. Now it striked Clark odd that nobody asked his opinions about either Brainiac or Kryptonian technology, since they were also very much falling into his expertise and experience.
Conflict of interest - seems like to be the only plausible answer to Clark.
Clark detested the days when Bruce treated and evaluated him like a danger and threat. The paranoia of their resident Bat had led to a few, unfavorable and troubled, debates and crises, even. However, deep down Clark also understood with the power he had, Superman could be a real menace if he wanted. They have encountered and traveled to a few unpleasant parallel universes where Clark’s counterpart might not be a very nice guy.
Why were there so many evil Superman?
Sometimes, Clark just didn’t understand.
The nurse who later walked Clark to Bruce’s observation room betrayed nothing, only saying that the other patient was still in surgery and the medical team was running several tests to assess how badly he was injured and if he was any danger to others. A standable reply that answered nothing. Clark nodded along.
The nurse left when they reached the door of the observation room. There was no observation window installed on the wall or the door. The scan pad at an eye-level on the wall verified Clark’s biometric and flashed “Superman, authorized” on its screen. The door next to it silently sided open, revealing the spacious room filled with pipes, lines, and bucky medical monitoring devices. Everything in there was too clean and white to make people comfortable.
Clark knew they had a few medical pods that adopted alien technology and designed to speed up the healing process in case someone obtained grieving injuries and when time was essential. Doctors didn’t recommend the pods unless it’s absolutely necessary. Healing didn't only mean getting back on ones’ feet physically. Some fatigue could only be lifted by time.
He was glad that Bruce was not in one of those pods.
And the discreet benefits coming along with it? Clark got to sit down next to him and hold his hand.
Clark hovered at Bruce, who was unconscious and had a scowl, seemingly dreaming the continuing, endless, but gradually losing battlefields. There always were wars going on in Bruce’s mind. Clark had no idea which one he was fighting now. He settled with caressing his temple and smoothing the wrinkles created by his frown.
“It’s okay, Bruce. I am here now.” Clark whispered, giving the callous hand a weak squeeze. “You are back home. You are safe now.”
Bruce didn’t stir, but the quick and shallow breaths here and there indicated he was deep in a nightmare, somewhere even Superman couldn’t reach.
Clark signed and retreated to use one single hand to work on the laptop he brought with him and catch up with his assignments from his daytime job.
He didn’t have any plans for the rest of the day, and Diana generously switched the monitoring duty with Clark, so he could stay without being bothered. She also volunteered to inform the cave of the return and current condition of Bruce.
J’onn gave Clark an update about their other world visitor: he was ninety five percent sure that this man was Bruce’s counterpart and he likely had a good knowledge regarding the Justice League after reading his surface mind. The uncertainty was coming from the fact that this man was either very good at hiding his thoughts even when he was unconscious, or his mind was twisted and restructured by the alien implants in him so he fell out of most of the detective range of the Martian.
However, J’onn told Clark that even though he couldn't read most thoughts or memories of the man, he detected something rather strange between Bruce and his counterpart. A psychic link it might be. But with the other’s mind fighted with him, J’onn was not certain. He would like to follow it up with Bruce later.
Psychic link? Great. Just another area Clark couldn’t be of help.
Clark stifled a sign escaping from him and pushed this feeling of helplessness and frustration aside. He got work to do and looked over for a nightmare haunted colleague, friend, lover - oh, probably not really a lover; they had been pining over each other a long time and recently they finally started to acknowledge their feelings, but they had not yet reached that step.
What were they in the other world? Clark couldn’t help thinking. Friends, lovers, or enemies? Surely couldn’t be strangers.
No matter what they were, they seemed deeply involved, if the origins of all the implants planted in Bruce’s doppelganger and his strange but strong reaction to Clark had a say.
Roughly three hours passed by without a stir. Clark went out only once to grab a sandwich and a tall cup of coffee and came back as soon as he finished them. Only after he settled back to his comfortable position and had Bruce’s cold hand in his again, things started going sideways.
“Bruce?”
The nightmare that haunted Bruce the entire time got worse. It’s not just disturbed sleep. His pulse quickened. His breath became shallow. A thin sheet of cold sweat covered his forehead before Clark noticed. Bruce stirred and then quickly developed into thrusting under the white thin cover.
Stood up, Clark quickly held both Bruce’s hands at his sides to prevent him accidentally throwing himself off the bed.
“Bruce! Wake up!”
Eyes rapidly moved under his eyelids, and Bruce turned from scowl to a horrified expression. He was both pale and flushed. Mouth opened and slurred and unrecognizable words came out.
One of a sudden, Bruce’s eyes were widened open. Glassy and unfocused, he stared at Clark with undeniable angst and dread. Bruce was not easy to spook. It’s so foreign to see him in such a state of fear.
And it hurt more when he looked at Clark with this kind of intense emotion. Like Clark was the cause of all his pain.
For a fleeting moment, both of them froze at the spot and didn’t dare to move or break their gazes.
“Shhh- it’s okay. B, it’s just a nightmare.” Clark held him there while Bruce panting heavily. “You’re safe. I got you. You’re safe with us.”
Screw his eyes shut, Bruce took a shaky but deep breath, which helped him to calm down a little. He took a few more in a pattern of meditation and later changed to some other breath practice, until his breath was even and himself was calm enough to speak or act.
“You’re okay. It’s okay.” Clark watched him through, murmuring under his breath. “Everything is good.”
Then the first thing Bruce chose to do after he got back to his feet was get out of the bed.
“Where are you going, B? You’re supposed to rest.”
Clark stopped him by grabbing his shoulders. Bruce was in no state to fight him. Clark could tell he was still too weak to walk properly. A few hours of restless sleep after collapsing due to sheer exhaustion wouldn’t do him any good, despite furthering wore him out.
But nothing stopped Batman. Bruce twisted to rip off all the IV and hookers of monitoring devices. A chaos of hundred medical monitoring devices beeping and crying for alarm and warnings at the same time gave Clark a headache.
“Not the time.” Bruce groaned, voice sounding sandpapers because of dehydration and exhaustion. He pushed Clark away purely by will power. “Let me go.”
“Oh, not a chance.”
Bruce looked up at Clark dead in the eyes and growled. “Kal!” Transmitting all his frustration and irritation in one single word.
“Don’t ‘Kal’ me!” Clark protested. “There is no emergency on the Watchtower or on the earth down below. Gotham is safe and quiet, and your kids are perfectly fine. There is no place or no one that demands your presence so urgently that it can’t wait. Nobody chases after you now, B! The League gets everything handled. What’s wrong?”
They stared at each other intensely until Bruce broke this childish contest.
“I have to go.” Bruce explained in a low and raspy voice, in lieu of backing down. “I have to get him out of the Watchtower. It’s urgent.”
“Who?”
“The other me. He was in trouble.” Bruce bit out a curse while struggling, and then Clark knew at this point he better let Bruce go before this little squabble developed into something utterly unpleasant, so he did.
Bruce was too weak to even stand straight. Clark had to catch him before he planted his face on the ground. “Look out.” His help earned a frustrated groan.
“See? You need to rest.” Clark couldn’t stop rumbling, even when he knew this was the last thing he could do to earn him a brownie point from Bruce. “How about you take a seat and I go to take a look?”
Bruce refused to sit down. “No.” He tried again to push Clark away, searching around for clothes and an exit.
Clark hovered at Bruce, refusing to leave him either. “I can call J’onn- I’m going to call him now. Hey, J’onn?”
He clicked at his comm when Bruce pulled out a long cloak out of the cabinet and wrapped it around him. He also somehow found a black and generic domino mask which Clark had no idea why it’s in this room to begin with. The broken suit that Bruce wore when he came back didn’t match any existing suit in record, therefore it probably was created in the other universe. Soon after the medical team removed it from Bruce, It was sent to the lab for both containment and future analysis. Bruce only wore a medical gown under the cloak and was ready to march down the hall on his bare feet.
J’onn replied to Clark’s call after a few seconds.
“Are you still with, uhm, the other Bruce?” Clark talked to J’onn while escorting Bruce out of the observation room. He spoke out loud to make sure Bruce heard his every word. “Good. How is he doing? …Stable? …Good. …No serious injuries. Awake but disorientated. …Okay, that’s expected, I think. He is in a completely different universe. Everything is beyond foreign. At least he doesn’t show hostility. I will be there in a few minutes, and I will talk to him- Whoa!”
Bruce made a sudden stop and turn, which resulted in Clark almost colliding into him.
“What’s-”
“ You stay out of this.” Bruce growled. “Understand?”
He was terrified. Hal’s words ringed in Clark’s mind, but Clark didn’t realize how bad it was until right now. Yeah, he might make a wrong move by rushing in without thinking back on the transport deck and unfortunately spooking the other Bruce, but Bruce’s reaction now really brought this weird protectiveness to a new level. Clark suddenly recalled what Bruce said to him back there. Bruce didn’t mean getting them out. He meant Clark.
Superman must get out now.
Clark was not prepared to take an emotional blow like this. Like now. He recoiled for a second like Bruce’s word burnt.
His reaction didn’t escape Bruce. Bruce backed a step and leaned on the wall for support. His breath suddenly sounded heavy and labored. Pushing his hair back with one hand, Bruce gave Clark an indecipherable look. He didn’t say anything. Nothing. A moment later, he collected himself, and with one hand on the wall to support his weight, he continued walking down the corridor.
Don’t take this wrong. Clark reasoned with himself. Bruce probably simply stated the fact. What could it be otherwise? Clark saw how his doppelganger reacted to him, to other League members. They all saw it. He was terrified. They scared the poor guy, and now he is left alone in one of the more strict observation room and, well, observed by a whole bunch of strangers, which was not funny at all.
Signing, Clark rushed in and picked Bruce up in a bride style. Bruce hated being transported in this position and grumbled when he was lifted.
“Just let me take you down there, okay?” Clark said, more to himself than to Bruce. “Then you can do whatever you want.”
Bruce didn’t reply. They stayed in silence until they made it to where the other Bruce was.
The other Bruce was not so lucky. As an other world visitor, he was put into a close confinement after the medical personnel patched him up. One of the walls of his cell was made of one way glass, leaving no privacy or secrets.
The doppelganger was changed into a thin patient gown. Despite the nasty bruises circling his exposed neck and ankles, the doppelganger looked mostly okay. Pale, shaked, but okay. Clark didn’t see what’s so urgent that Bruce must come down there to pick him up. The doppelganger sat on the bed, arms wrapping around himself. The room temperature shown on the side panel indicated it’s seventy five degrees inside, suggesting it’s more a self defense pose than him actually feeling cold.
The doppelganger’s expression was mostly blank. He stared at the glass wall like he could see through it.
Maybe he could. There was no mistake that the doppelganger stirred when Clark and Bruce arrived. He tilted his head, like he was listening.
“Greetings.” J’onn welcomed them by flying closer. “How are you doing, my friend?” He said to Bruce.
“I’m taking him to the cave.” Bruce said, in a tone leaving no room for discussion.
J’onn was surprised. “I’m afraid that…”
“I vouch for him.” Bruce interrupted him. “This is urgent.”
There was nobody who knew all their procedures better than Batman, and they all knew Batman only vouched for people who he firstly knew thoroughly and secondly believed they could be something better. But there were some fundamental things about those who got vouched by Batman: they were all no ordinary by no means and dangerous at some perspectives.
Vouching for the innocent and good will people was more like a Superman job.
Clark didn’t break the moment of silence that J’onn and Bruce fell into. J’onn squinted, seemingly re-evaluating the situation and weighing the urgency and sincerity of Bruce’s words. Being a mind reader probably gave him an extra sense to seek the truth behind people’s odd behaviors or something. He wondered if they changed to talk in a psychic way.
Clark found that having super senses would give him all those extra details about a person that sometimes were more misleading than useful. As time went on, he realized that knowing something didn't always mean understanding it, just like memorizing a whole book didn't always mean you understood what it said.
Anyway, Bruce was so hard to read even if he got all the details right - and most of the time Clark kept missing the subtle but important one - and even if he got everything to decipher his motives, Bruce’s thoughts were twisted and covered under years of intentional training and unintentional traumas. Himself as a case would put Freud in shame.
Sometimes, Clark felt that his trying to read Bruce complicated things.
“Superman, what’s your opinion on this matter?”
Breaking their intense staring, J’onn turned to Clark. His voice betrayed nothing, calm and even.
“Usually we shall hold a meeting to discuss to which degree of the freedom we’ll grant the other world visitor.”
And if they would give the visitor any form of freedom at all. Clark supplied in his mind. He didn’t connect to J’onn on any psychic level, and normally it’s hard to tell if J’onn read his surface thoughts. Unconsciously, Clark glanced at the main but silent subject they were talking about.
The doppelganger didn’t move or there was no change in his expression, but he didn’t look like listening to their conversation anymore. He looked like being lost in his own mind, or he didn’t have a mind at all. Was there really anyone home in that body?
“Uhm.” Clark cleared his throat. “You mentioned this is some kind of psychic link…”
“Indeed.” J’onn nodded. “However, this psychic link has reached its peak strength in the past fifteen minutes and then shattered after that. Now it has completely withered away, and so do his thoughts.”
Fifteen minutes ago was about the time Clark woke Bruce up. The timing was uncanny, but Bruce’s stony face gave nothing away. His heart didn’t flutter either.
Clark honestly asked. “What is this supposed to mean?”
“I fear he dropped into a vegetative state.”
Clark whipped his head and looked at the doppelganger. Again. The other didn’t look like a vegetative patient that was shown on TV, but he certainly didn’t look like much alive either. His quietness was both worrying and unsettling.
“He was shocked.” Bruce countered, fatigue and pain starting eating away his patience and strength. Clark lent him a hand so he could keep standing straight next to them. Bruce didn’t shake Clark’s hand off or react to it at all, which was a small miracle.
J’onn’s expression was likely protesting that no shocked state should render people thoughtless.
“What was he like before he dropped into the vegetative state or got too shocked?”
“Scared.” J’onn said. “Therefore we left him alone in the observation room.”
Certainly being left alone didn’t do much good to improve his case. J’onn sent a mental image of the spiral down that happened in that quiet and confined room. The doppelganger scrambled to sit up and curl into himself then crouching there with widened eyes and absent-mindedness. A little remorse attached to this image indicated J’onn regretted his wrong decision.
But Clark doubted if J’onn had any choices to begin with.
“Okay. Let's get him treated first.” Clark gave in. It hurt him more to see Bruce - both of them - suffering. “I can take him-”
“Kal.” Bruce hissed. “What did I say?”
“Please let me arrange the transport of the patient.” J’onn stepped in. “Superman, if you wouldn’t mind, please go and get ready for the zeta boom. We’ll be there in minutes.”
“Sure.” Clark signed and left the medical wing. He did exactly what J’onn had asked him to do and then stayed away from the party. He was back in the monitor room and watched as J’onn shifted into normal medical staff and escorted the doppelganger in a wheelchair to the zeta boom. Bruce stubbornly walked down there all by himself.
After keying in the coordinates and Bruce’s code, both men vanished into thin air with a flick of image on the monitor.
Clark planted his face into his palm for a long moment, before he heard Diana say.
“Don’t stress yourself, my friend, for you did nothing wrong. Give him a little more time.” She knew two of them too well, so she didn’t need to read into all the clues and evidence to know what’s really going on. “He would come around.”
The medical observation and evaluation report regarding the doppelganger of their resident Bats came in later that day. The report referred to him as the subject, consequently eliminating all the personal and emotional attachment.
The medical team and tech support combined their effort to perform an preliminary examination of the alien implants planted in his body. The results came back as the implants were more advanced and complicated than their original theory. A fine tuned product of the mixture of sophisticated alien and earth technology. The team presumed that it’s not only used to repair and enhance the original and existing neuro system of the subject, who appeared to have critical brain damage which could potentially disable him, but also had a specific use that had yet to be unearthed. It’s a shame that they didn’t have enough time or appreciate methods for future examination or experiments, considering they most likely had to dissect the subject to break the implant system down and learn everything about it.
The sophisticated implanted neuro system running through his entire body also created a problem that the team had no idea how to treat the doppelganger properly. The team observed the implants slowly re-generated and healed itself. In the end, they grudgingly decided to patch the subject up and give him standard treatment and let the time take care of the wounds and broken bones.
The report was dry and long, full of science and medical terms and a potential to put any intellectual being to sleep despite Clark, and that’s not because Clark found the report interesting, but more about he was looking for some clues that could help him in some sense that himself didn’t even understand.
The other interesting part about this doppelganger was that he was hermaphrodite. Maybe leaning toward the end of the female spectrum more, since there was the trace of scars on his uterus which indicated that he either was once pregnant or had related surgeries.
There was a trail of evidence indicating the doppelganger was sex active, which was both concerning and sick, since there was no way he was vegetative or shocked so bad to lose his awareness simply because he was transported into a different world. Clark doubted roughing him up would do this much damage. There must be more behind his abnormal mental condition. Then there was one piece information might shine a light on his case:
There were body fluid stains and trace DNA that his previous sex partner left inside him. The team took a sample and ran it through tests. Considering the stains were hours old and they had started to break down, it’s only presumed that the owner was likely to be a Kryptonian.
Well, there were not many Kryptonians to begin with.
Stains of sex plus the broken bones and nasty bruises on his ankles and limbs about the same old, and also the horrified reaction when Superman approached him. It didn’t take a genius to deduce what happened in the other world.
Clark now understood the hesitation and dread in Flash’s eyes and the weird but fierce protectiveness from Bruce.
Why were there so many evil Superman running free and tormenting the worlds?
The question surely bothered and annoyed Clark to no end, but he had no power to alter the reality.
Clark brooded at the monitor room the rest of the day and night. Bruce was radio silent in the meantime. The League asked him to submit his own report and evaluation regarding this other world visitor, but only got a polite reply from Robin who said that Bruce would get back to them as soon as possible. Clark interrupted the message as Bruce either involuntarily collapsed in the cave and couldn’t get up to work anymore, or someone in the cave forced him to take a break. They didn’t mention anything regarding his doppelganger.
Clark went back to Daily Planet when the morning came. The upside of being a yellow sun charged Kryptonian was he could go without sleep for a prolonged period of time. Lack of a day or two of eight hours sleep didn’t hurt him at all. Eventually, Clark had to take a nap to refresh his mind, but he was too agitated to even consider going to bed right now.
Work at Daily Planet was uneventful. Luthor was currently behind the bar and out of the picture. Superman’s rogues’ gallery was utterly quiet, too. Nothing existing went around the entire Metropolis, which somehow felt odd. Clark beated all his assignments and helped Lois with proofreading. Then he clocked out at exactly six o’clock.
Clark was thinking about whether he should visit Bruce when he stood at the grand entrance of the Daily Planet, but then he decided against it. Yeah, he would take Diana’s advice and give the Bats some time and space, even when his heart was aching for missing him.
Oh boy. He really missed his “more than a colleague and friend, but not yet a boyfriend” type partner. Yeah, partner. It was an umbrella word that covered too many layers of meanings that it no longer sufficed to describe anything. It’s truly what Clark started to feel after working in a career that used the language as a tool. It’s too ambiguous and could fall apart in the most expected ways. How in the world was someone so sure that the other they talked to understood the meaning of the words the same as them?
No. Clark was totally not jealous about the psychic power that J’onn had, or the secret bond between two Bruces. Not at all.
Oh, but he did wonder what it would have felt like if he was bonded with his beloved for both minds and souls. Just a wonder.
Clark’s hearing expanded when he thought about Bruce. The rhythm of his heartbeat played like a lullaby in Clark’s ears. Too smooth and slow for pacing around or arguing, a bit faster than sleeping. Brooding, it seemed like. Clark held back the urge of flying down there and teasing him. Then he went back to his apartment.
The next day, nothing of importance was happening in the world. The same the day after the next.
The Justice League was doing just fine without calling for Superman for help, and the new schedule for monitor duty mysteriously gave Clark a break for half a month. The next founder’s meeting was even further away. The Metropolis was thriving without any disruption or distraction from insane rogues. Bruce was still silent. The mundane work and daily routine slowly drove Clark nuts.
Clark must have looked miserable enough, so that Lois bought him coffee and muffin without trying to make up some excuses. Jim invited him for a drink that night, but Clark just didn’t feel like going to one. Regular earth alcohol had no use on him anyway. Clark would rather order a large pizza and buy one pint ice cream and waste himself on his sorry second hand couch. That was his original plan for these two nights.
However, instead of sulking and brooding at home, like Bruce always did - Clark probably spent too much time with him so inevitably he picked up some of his bad habits along the way - Clark changed into his tights and delivered some help. There were always people in trouble to whom Clark could lend a hand. If the statistics of how many kittens Superman rescued from the tree skyrocketed, that’s nobody’s business. Clark could write himself a fluffy piece and then be laughed at by his dear comrades in arms who knew both of his identity. By the end of the day, Clark had to write something to fulfill his duty as a reporter.
On Friday morning, when Clark expected him the least, Bruce called. His office phone kept ringing the entire morning and it’s always these few people called in, so Clark picked it up without looking at the number.
“Clark Ken- Oh.”
The expression on his face must be dramatic, because Lois who walked by shot her eyebrow to the sky at the moment they locked eyes. Clark could only hope that he didn’t look panicked.
Forcing the air out of his lungs, Clark whispered. “Hey, B.”
Lois stood over there, sipping her coffee and watching, while Clark struggled with Bruce’s words.
“Yeah, I guess I can do that, but you call me on my office phone. Unfortunately, it’s a landline, it has a line which is going to be too short for me to take the phone with me to the window, so you know the dilemma, don’t you?” Signing, but Clark also felt the corners of his mouth twisted, a smile creeping its way onto his face. “I’m not playing dumb. I’m just saying… Okay. Okay, I’ll turn around and take a look.”
Bruce was ridiculous. He didn’t like being called upon as a vigilante when he was out as a civilian, but now he insisted that Clark checked out the window with Superman’s power. When Clark turned, there was nothing particular besides other skyscrapers and blue sky outside of the window, which was expected because he was about a hundred feet above the ground for being stationed at the eighth floor. Clark’s desk was crowded by his colleagues like an island in the sea. That glimpse of blue sky was mostly he could make out from where he was standing, if he was a normal human being.
However, Clark did have supervisions. He saw through hundreds of different obstacles and many layers of concrete walls and floors, until he could see what was parked at the street running parallel to the Daily Planet. A sleek grey sports car, with a slender figure cladded in a fancy black suit leaning on it and using sunglasses as a lame cover for his identity.
Good thing that Bruce Wayne was not as popular as Lex Luthor in this town. There were few people passing by him and none of them had yet raised any suspicion.
Bruce waved at the direction of Clark like he knew he was staring.
“Well?” Clark heard Bruce tentatively ask.
“Well.” Clark mindlessly repeated, searching his mind for a smart reply but there was none.
Bruce drily supplied. “It’s about lunch time.”
“Indeed.” Clark said, unconsciously peeking at the grand clock on the wall. Thirteen to eleven. In about five minutes or so, people would start to shuffle off the bullpen for lunch. An immense attention would be drawn if Clark happened to jump into a sleek car and be gone without a word while on the same way for a sandwich and a soda with them. And in case someone did recognize it’s Bruce, wow. Not that Clark planned to do that.
Never explaining his intention, Bruce was waiting for him on the line. His mic picked up his soft breath and even the cheap office phone played it out like a siren song.
“You go.” Lois smacked on Clark’s upper arm and startled him so bad he almost dropped the handset.
Clark whined. “Lo.” She had no idea all the complications behind this simple act.
“Oh come on, you big dork.” Lois ripped the handset off from Clark and put herself on. She pitched her voice and said with evil glee. “Rest assured sir, Clarkie is on his way.” Then she hung up, giving Clark a wide grin, then strolling away like a champion.
Clark ran down through the stairs so nobody would see him as red as an over ripe tomato. Bruce was at the same spot as he called him, both hands shoved into the pockets and leaning at the car. He instructed Clark to get into the car when he was close enough. They headed out before people rushed out from all the skyscrapers hunting for food.
“You amused Lois, so I probably have more than half an hour for lunch today.”
“I thought I was your boss.” Bruce said without looking at Clark.
Clark rolled his eyes. “Oh, you wish.”
It’s a fifteen minute drive and Bruce parked the car at the back of a local cuisine. They walked to the front. The dining area was pretty full when they entered. Most of the tables had been taken. The waitress showed them the table Bruce booked and served them two glasses of iced tea and the manu. Considering how busy it was now and there were only three of them taking orders and passing dishes, it seemed that she wouldn’t come back any time soon.
Clark stared at the menu. The prices were moderest and nothing he couldn’t offer. When people thought they wouldn’t care about the prices for anything if they dated a billionaire, it was actually the other way around: they started to pay attention even for a lollipop. Bruce paid way more for the collateral damages during a battle, but that’s just a different story.
After a long moment of silence, Clark asked, without looking up at Bruce. “So, how are things going?”
“You’re mad at me.” Bruce said as a matter of fact.
“I’m glad to see you around.”
A soft click that Bruce dropped his sunglasses on the wooden table.
“Clark, you are not even looking at me.”
Finally, Clark looked up. Bruce didn’t look any better than a few days ago when he just came back from another universe but decided to go back to the cave even though he was supposed to rest. He was pale and his lips were off color. The bags under his eyes looked permanent and were barely concealed with a touch of makeup. He sat straight across the table but what really needed was to lie down on the four-poster bed of his in the Manor and sleep.
Bruce folded his hands on the table and locked eyes with Clark. His breath was even and his heart was calm. Either he was riding on painkillers to function normally or he was finally out of his mind. Clark didn’t need to use x-ray vision to know how many layers of bandage were wrapped underneath those fancy clothes. The bitter and spicy scents of balm hiding underneath Bruce’s cologne told him everything.
It was impossible to stay mad at Bruce when he was battered for struggling to stay alive and looking at him with his pale, blue eyes, and it’s not that Clark was mad at him to begin with. For that, Clark was sure Bruce had already known.
“I’m upset.” Clark couldn’t even say he was tired, because what he was tired of was more a metaphor of things than some real tedious and taxing tasks draining all his energy. Despite that, upset was not the right word to describe what he was feeling. “But I understand why- why you do it or the way the League is acting. You don’t have to say anything.”
Like the court or the police, the League had a policy dealing with the presumed sex assault cases. No exposing or leaking the relevant information, especially regarding the victim, to potential suspects or third party interests. The stain containing presumed Kryptonian DNA put Clark at a bad spot. The situation only grew worse because Bruce was the one who provided temporary accommodation and protection. By doing so, Clark must restrain from visiting Bruce for fear of running into his doppelganger and accidentally escalating the situation. Even listening to Bruce afar, slowly turned into a secret breach of trust.
Nobody revealed anything other than the initial report Clark received two days ago about the doppelganger when he asked, and Bruce didn’t reply to his messages. Clark thought that was all. He didn’t do anything but what his counterpart did in another universe automatically became his fault. It sucked.
Clark deflated, hunching a bit. Eyes dropped at the menu spread on the table, but all the fancy little letters were too blurry and smudged to make sense to his brain.
“I feel I’m obligated to tell you a few things.” Bruce said, like reading Clark’s mind. “I haven’t submitted my report regarding my multiverse travel nor my counterpart’s condition. I only asked them to wait until I got everything under control, and I won’t submit that report until two days later.”
“Oh.” Clark was flabbergasted.
“I’ll send the invitation to the debrief meeting later and after giving a considerable amount of time for you reading it through, and you’re on the list.” Bruce paused. “Or I can have your name removed, if you don’t want to.”
“Yes, I want to. It’s just-” Clark hurried to explain himself, fearing Bruce became too disappointed in him because of all his suffocating worries and gloomy presumptions. Then he saw Bruce smirked. Clark sucked in a breath. “You!”
All the tension suddenly drained out of him, like it was not there at the first place. Clark ran a hand down his face and squeezed his jaw for a moment to stabilize himself. “You such a brat.”
“It’s never my intention to worry you.”
“I would never stop worrying about you.” Clark bit down their harsh reality. “You know that.”
“Yes, I know.” Bruce said with a faint smile.
“So, what brings you to town?”
“Business needed to be taken care of, of course.” Bruce said. “Can’t I simply drop by and say hey?”
Clark smoothly replied. “I would be flattered. Bruce, but you can be honest with me. I wouldn’t be mad if you are on a business trip but find an hour or so to spare. I’m-”
Bruce interrupted him. “I want to see you.”
And he meant it. Clark could tell from his stoic expression and unmoving heartbeat. Bruce didn’t lie.
The waitress decided to jump into the conversation by asking their choice of drinks and main courses at this exact moment. Bruce tilted his head to talk to the girl who came behind Clark and then stood next to their table. Clark didn’t listen to what he ordered, but pondered if he was saved by this sudden interruption or lost one precious chance to earn some real confession from Bruce. When the waitress turned around and asked Clark for his order, Clark speed read the manu and ordered a soda and the first dish consisted without some ingredients he didn’t know or didn’t think it was supposed to be in a dish.
Rao blessed him with a digestion that could tolerate almost everything on earth, but certainly he forgot to add the same level of protection for Clark’s taste buds.
It’s impossible to resume their previous conversation, so Clark settled with that: “You should go back home and take a good long nap. I have no idea how you even sit straight and pretend nothing ever happened.”
“It took practice, but I managed.”
Their talk continued down a path that involved most Clark monologue about what happened in his day work and Bruce added his two cents here and there. The food was served not long after and it came out decently good. The entire lunch flew fast and ended before Clark realized it.
There was a meeting scheduled this afternoon that required Bruce’s participation. To make sure the public knows that I’m still alive. Bruce joked. He gave Clark a drive back to his apartment because Clark apparently received a threatening message from Lois that told him not to come back until next Monday. Unfortunately, Bruce had plans for tonight and he had to be back to Gotham tonight.
Ever since he fell out with Lois - and that’s like years ago - Lois seemed very interested in Clark’s love life. Once she found out there might be a thing between them, She was determined to make it happen. Lois seized every opportunity to push them two together, and said that both of them pinning at each other so hard through the years that it hurt her to watch. It’s both appalling and weirdly sweet.
After tidying his apartment quickly, Clark changed into some leisure clothing and took off to Smallville for his overdue visit to his parents.