Sapphire
Title: Sapphire
Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were...but they aren't.
Pairing/Characters: Bruce/Clark
Rating: ANGST
Word count: 1156
Summary: Blue is both beautiful and painful to Bruce.
Authors Note: This is a continuation of my story Crimson, which was written for mithen 's shuffle challenge C. And a quick thanks to Holly! Without you this wouldn't make as much sense.
Sapphire. Indigo. Azure. No matter which way you say it the color is the same brilliant and beautiful shade of blue. True blue as some would call it. His blue. The same blue that earned him the nickname of Big Blue. Bruce had waited to do this one ded last for this very reason. The color reminded him too strongly of Clark.
It had been months since his death. In fact Bruce could tell you to the second how long Clark had been gone as well as thirty different reasons why it was his fault. After the first week Bruce opted for doing everything that he could to not have to face and/or deal with the fact that Clark was really gone. For the last few weeks it had been harder for Bruce to distract himself due to the lack of criminal activity in Gotham.
The big bads of Gotham had taken note of Batman's darker mood and had seemingly decided it was better if they backed off for a bit. Well at least since that incident with the Penguin. The term "grossly excessive use of force" may have been mentioned a few dozen times in the police report, but then again it is now guaranteed that the Penguin won't be back on the streets for a while. Well, not unless thy find a way to heal a broken leg, a broken nose, and a few fractured ribs within just a few weeks.
He had put off testing all the different kinds of Kryptonite he had discovered and apart of him insisted that his was one of the many reasons that he was to be blamed for the death of Superman. If he had only studied all the aspects of each kind of Kryptonite he could have figured out a way to protect Clark. A way to keep Clark safe, and Clark would still be alive.
He shook the thoughts from his head as he gently placed the brilliant blue rock into the machine. As he typed in calculations he tried not to think about how pointless the testing was. Especially since all he could find out was theoretically what each color did. He would never know for sure, not anymore, and he only had himself to blame for that.
All he had of Clark now were measurements, calculations, theories, pictures, and memories. Wonderful memories that were both intolerably painful and beautiful. And with each test and report that he printed then filed that estimated what each sample would do to the former man of steel coupled with all his knowledge of Clark made scenarios of what Clark's reactions would actually look like take on a life of their own and play, sometimes repeatedly through Bruce's mind.
He had seen first-hand what some of the samples did yet he had tested them anyhow. Not only had that created more for him to do, and thus created more distractions for his grief choked brain; but also it gave him a way to gauge how accurate his theories and calculations were. And from what the results on those had been Bruce could certain that what the reports were printing were to be trusted for accuracy.
Which meant that if Clark were still alive Bruce would now be able to pull some fairly funny pranks and tricks on him. The small smile that crossed his face at the thought of playing a trick on Clark quickly turned to tears as Bruce's heart seemed to shatter all over again with the knowledge that any such action was now an impossibility.
As Bruce waited for the computer to finish running it's simulations armed with the data it had reserved, Bruce finally allowed himself to fully cry. As he cried he thought back onto the way that Clark, lying on that brilliantly colored silk cushion, his golden skin paled. Clark had looked almost the same as he did when he slept. And Bruce was the only one who knew and could tell exactly what the differences were. Only nobody knew that Bruce was the one to know such things.
Clark had wanted so badly to take their relationship public. He had asked so very many times yet Bruce had always said no, sighting a different reason each time. Insisting that they keep it to themselves for just a little while longer. And Clark; beautiful, loving, and infinitely patient had always agreed. Deep down Bruce was sure that Clark knew and understood that he was simply scared of what would happen.
Bruce never told Clark that he was scared, but then again he wouldn't have had to. Clark had known and understood him so well that most things didn't need to be said. Which in all likely-hood was why Clark had never bothered to push Bruce too hard about it. Perhaps Clark even understood that it wasn't just fear that made Bruce desire to keep their love to themselves, but also selfishness and greed. He had wanted to keep everything that was them to himself for as long as he could.
Because he and Clark had never gone public was why Bruce had waited until everyone had left to see Clark. He had been cleaned off before he had been placed into the memorial and Bruce had snuck in to see him. Clark had looked almost as if he had healed some, but that was most likely due to the lack of blood on him. Unlike he had been when Bruce had found him on the battlefield.
Bruce shut his eyes as tears striped down his face and repeated in a reverent whisper the same words he had said to Clark's still body. “If you come back to me I'll tell the world. I'll tell them all. I'll tell them that I love you. Just come back to me. I need you. Please, Clark. Please come back to me.”
Just as Bruce finished his prayer like plea to his dead love he heard the printer start to hum as it worked hard printing out the computer's conclusions about what this would do to the former hero. Soon the printer beeped signaling that it's job was done and was awaiting Bruce to empty it's now full tray. Without looking up Bruce wiped the tears from his eyes with one hand and reached for the papers with the other. He read the report only to re-read it out of utter disbelief.
He couldn't believe what he was reading. It was impossible! He read the report another 5 times before making the computer run the whole thing again. There was no way that what he read could be true. However every time he ran the data through the computer, all 7 times, the same results were printed out. Quickly and silently he prepared for what he was about to do. Soon he would set out into the night prepared for anything and everything. After all who knows what he could run into or what can happen when your attempting to steal Superman's body.
Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were...but they aren't.
Pairing/Characters: Bruce/Clark
Rating: ANGST
Word count: 1156
Summary: Blue is both beautiful and painful to Bruce.
Authors Note: This is a continuation of my story Crimson, which was written for mithen 's shuffle challenge C. And a quick thanks to Holly! Without you this wouldn't make as much sense.
Sapphire. Indigo. Azure. No matter which way you say it the color is the same brilliant and beautiful shade of blue. True blue as some would call it. His blue. The same blue that earned him the nickname of Big Blue. Bruce had waited to do this one ded last for this very reason. The color reminded him too strongly of Clark.
It had been months since his death. In fact Bruce could tell you to the second how long Clark had been gone as well as thirty different reasons why it was his fault. After the first week Bruce opted for doing everything that he could to not have to face and/or deal with the fact that Clark was really gone. For the last few weeks it had been harder for Bruce to distract himself due to the lack of criminal activity in Gotham.
The big bads of Gotham had taken note of Batman's darker mood and had seemingly decided it was better if they backed off for a bit. Well at least since that incident with the Penguin. The term "grossly excessive use of force" may have been mentioned a few dozen times in the police report, but then again it is now guaranteed that the Penguin won't be back on the streets for a while. Well, not unless thy find a way to heal a broken leg, a broken nose, and a few fractured ribs within just a few weeks.
He had put off testing all the different kinds of Kryptonite he had discovered and apart of him insisted that his was one of the many reasons that he was to be blamed for the death of Superman. If he had only studied all the aspects of each kind of Kryptonite he could have figured out a way to protect Clark. A way to keep Clark safe, and Clark would still be alive.
He shook the thoughts from his head as he gently placed the brilliant blue rock into the machine. As he typed in calculations he tried not to think about how pointless the testing was. Especially since all he could find out was theoretically what each color did. He would never know for sure, not anymore, and he only had himself to blame for that.
All he had of Clark now were measurements, calculations, theories, pictures, and memories. Wonderful memories that were both intolerably painful and beautiful. And with each test and report that he printed then filed that estimated what each sample would do to the former man of steel coupled with all his knowledge of Clark made scenarios of what Clark's reactions would actually look like take on a life of their own and play, sometimes repeatedly through Bruce's mind.
He had seen first-hand what some of the samples did yet he had tested them anyhow. Not only had that created more for him to do, and thus created more distractions for his grief choked brain; but also it gave him a way to gauge how accurate his theories and calculations were. And from what the results on those had been Bruce could certain that what the reports were printing were to be trusted for accuracy.
Which meant that if Clark were still alive Bruce would now be able to pull some fairly funny pranks and tricks on him. The small smile that crossed his face at the thought of playing a trick on Clark quickly turned to tears as Bruce's heart seemed to shatter all over again with the knowledge that any such action was now an impossibility.
As Bruce waited for the computer to finish running it's simulations armed with the data it had reserved, Bruce finally allowed himself to fully cry. As he cried he thought back onto the way that Clark, lying on that brilliantly colored silk cushion, his golden skin paled. Clark had looked almost the same as he did when he slept. And Bruce was the only one who knew and could tell exactly what the differences were. Only nobody knew that Bruce was the one to know such things.
Clark had wanted so badly to take their relationship public. He had asked so very many times yet Bruce had always said no, sighting a different reason each time. Insisting that they keep it to themselves for just a little while longer. And Clark; beautiful, loving, and infinitely patient had always agreed. Deep down Bruce was sure that Clark knew and understood that he was simply scared of what would happen.
Bruce never told Clark that he was scared, but then again he wouldn't have had to. Clark had known and understood him so well that most things didn't need to be said. Which in all likely-hood was why Clark had never bothered to push Bruce too hard about it. Perhaps Clark even understood that it wasn't just fear that made Bruce desire to keep their love to themselves, but also selfishness and greed. He had wanted to keep everything that was them to himself for as long as he could.
Because he and Clark had never gone public was why Bruce had waited until everyone had left to see Clark. He had been cleaned off before he had been placed into the memorial and Bruce had snuck in to see him. Clark had looked almost as if he had healed some, but that was most likely due to the lack of blood on him. Unlike he had been when Bruce had found him on the battlefield.
Bruce shut his eyes as tears striped down his face and repeated in a reverent whisper the same words he had said to Clark's still body. “If you come back to me I'll tell the world. I'll tell them all. I'll tell them that I love you. Just come back to me. I need you. Please, Clark. Please come back to me.”
Just as Bruce finished his prayer like plea to his dead love he heard the printer start to hum as it worked hard printing out the computer's conclusions about what this would do to the former hero. Soon the printer beeped signaling that it's job was done and was awaiting Bruce to empty it's now full tray. Without looking up Bruce wiped the tears from his eyes with one hand and reached for the papers with the other. He read the report only to re-read it out of utter disbelief.
He couldn't believe what he was reading. It was impossible! He read the report another 5 times before making the computer run the whole thing again. There was no way that what he read could be true. However every time he ran the data through the computer, all 7 times, the same results were printed out. Quickly and silently he prepared for what he was about to do. Soon he would set out into the night prepared for anything and everything. After all who knows what he could run into or what can happen when your attempting to steal Superman's body.