FIC: The Breaking Wave: Chapter Two (2/4)
Title: The Breaking Wave: Chapter Two (Birdsong in Metropolis)
Characters/Pairings: Superman, Bruce Wayne, Arthur Curry (King Orin, Aquaman).
Rating: PG
Summary: Superman's world is turned upside-down when he meets a mysterious ambassador from Atlantis.
Word count: 1700
Continuity: DC doesn't seem to worry about keeping Atlantis consistent, so this Atlantis (and Arthur) are almost entirely my cobbled-together creation.
Notes: Written for the World's Finest Gift Exchange, Prompt F07: An AU in which young Bruce Wayne's ship sinks during his travels and he becomes Prince Arthur's tutor and foster-brother. The full mini-series can be found here.
Twelve years ago
Orin felt it before he heard it--a burst of apprehension and anger from Buruzh's mind that had him pushing away from his desk and swimming as fast as possible toward the source. As he drew near, he could hear voices coming from the direction of the Academy courtyard.
"Nice job, landie. Another test passed with flying colors." Orin recognized the voice as Khelin, the Atlantean who had been top of his class at the Academy--until Buruzh had entered it.
"Perfect marks, in fact." That was Damar, one of Khelin's flunkies. Orin could hear a muttering of various other voices: maybe six in all.
"Thank you for your congratulations." Buruzh's voice was so even and controlled that Orin could hardly believe it was connected to the white-hot fury underneath it that only he could sense.
Khelin spat a curse. "Don't act high and mighty with us. We know the half-prince is feeding you the right answers."
"Atlantean telepathy doesn't work that way." Cold as ice water, incandescent heat underneath it.
"Oh, we all know you and our yellow-haired ruler share a special bond, don't you?" Sniggering from the group, and Orin pulled up just outside the courtyard, grimacing, unwilling to confirm their statement by appearing out of nowhere. "Him and his curse--he's going to bugger all of Atlantis, he's just getting practice with you--" Khelin's voice broke off abruptly into a yelp of pain as all of the anger went out of Buruzh's mind, replaced by an ice-cold sense of...precision that shocked Orin more than the anger had. The rest of the group soon added their shouts of pain to their leader's as the precision took on a cast of abstracted satisfaction.
Orin came around the corner and into the fray just as Buruzh finished kicking the last bully on the chin, his body floating in the water like it was flying, movements lazily graceful, almost languid. "Buruzh!" Orin swam up to him and his friend swung around; Orin dodged and Buruzh's open hand sliced by his head like a shark. "It's over, Buruzh," Orin said a bit shakily, watching the dark blue eyes slowly become familiar again.
Buruzh closed his eyes and floated silently for just a moment, and Orin could feel his shields solidifying again, blocking out everything but the almost subliminal trickle of emotions that he could never wholly keep from his prince. When his eyes opened once more, they were wry and slightly mocking--of himself, of the bullies, of the world in general, it was impossible to say.
"I don't like them calling you cursed," Buruzh said steadily.
Orin rested his hands on his brother's shoulders. "We'll find a way to win them over," he said.
Buruzh looked weary. "People like Khelin aren't won over by anything but brute force and intimidation and fear."
Orin allowed his smile to sharpen just a bit. "As I said, we'll find a way to win them over."
After a moment, Buruzh smiled back at him.
: : :
Kal was waiting on the pier when Buruzh's ship--a tiny little one-man pod--pulled up. The Atlantean ambassador pulled himself out of the ship and onto the pier, and Kal tried not to stare too obviously. Buruzh was wearing something midnight-blue that was silky, but definitely not silk, rippling like water over his lean frame. It was open at the neck and Kal could glimpse a cord around his neck: a polished shark's tooth hung from it.
Buruzh held out a hand and Kal took it briefly as the ambassador's eyebrows lifted, looking at him. "Is this what you usually look like out of costume, Superman?"
Kal laughed slightly. He wasn't Clark today--no glasses, no ill-fitting suit--instead, he was wearing a burgundy sweater cut in a vaguely Kryptonian style, his hair distinctively Superman's, his posture confident and unslouching. "You can call me Kal when I'm not in uniform," he said. He didn't often go around dressed like this, but he found that having people sometimes catch Superman "in civilian clothes" took suspicion away from Clark Kent. "That's what my parents called me," he explained, but Buruzh did not follow up on the implied invitation to say what his parents had named him.
They walked through Metropolis and Kal watched Buruzh taking everything in, those keen eyes scanning every detail of the architecture and technology, noting everything that had changed in his absence. He was especially interested in the cars, wanting to know the gas mileage and turning radius of nearly every new make that passed them. "When I was younger I...had plans to own the coolest car in the world," he said wryly.
"I'm sure you own the best ship in Atlantis."
Enthusiasm sparked in the other man's eyes. "Actually, I do! I've won the racing title three years running."
Kal had no doubt of it.
"So," he said casually, "Any land foods you've particularly missed?"
Buruzh looked thoughtful. "Pizza. Atlantis has something kind of like pizza, but it's mostly seaweed and..." He shuddered elaborately, startling a laugh out of Kal. "Let's just say it's not the same."
"Pizza it is, then," Kal said, heading toward a pizza joint that he knew was good; not one Clark visited regularly.
They got a fair amount of stares as they walked in and sat down. Some of the stares might have been because they recognized Superman out of costume, but as more people were staring at Buruzh than Kal it seemed more likely that it was shock at seeing this exotic beauty entering Gino's Pizzeria.
Kal knew just how they felt.
They talked over the pizza. Freed from the constraints of discussing the crisis of Sub Diego, the topics ranged across politics and scientific advances to discussions of popular culture. At first Buruzh was reticent, his questions almost brusque as he listened to Kal recount the last fifteen years' worth of politics, but when he found out that George Lucas had produced three more Star Wars movies in his absence he almost dropped his slice of pizza.
"You're kidding! I'll have to get a hold of those. Not that they have VCRs in Atlantis."
"They don't here much anymore either," Kal said wryly. "And I hate to be the one to break it to you, but they were...kind of a disappointment."
Buruzh shrugged. "I'm not sure that even matters. I just want to see them."
"We'll stop by an Internet cafe after this, pull up some pictures for you."
Buruzh's eyebrows arched. "Pictures? On the Internet? Sounds like computer technology has come a long way too."
Kal couldn't help smiling. "I think you'll be impressed."
: : :
Buruzh was indeed mightily impressed by the computer he found at the cafe. "Damn, damn, if only I could find a waterproof one to take back with me! Gigabytes of memory?" He made a strangled sound as he figured out how to work the browser and started poking around on the Internet. The Star Wars pictures were avidly consumed and Jar Jar Binks declared "totally bogus," but after that Kal noticed the searches quickly became more serious: crime rates in various cities, figures on murder and robbery.
Buruzh lingered a long time on the statistics for Gotham, his eyes tracing the jagged red peaks on the graphs. His mood shifted toward pensive, and Kal turned away and did some research on algae production for the Sub Diegans, giving him his privacy. About ten minutes into his research, a child timidly asked if he might be interested in signing an autograph, and after that it was about an hour of signing and smiling. Eventually he heard Buruzh sigh heavily and push his chair back. "How about you take me somewhere relaxing next?" the Atlantean said rather wryly.
Centennial Park was quiet and uncrowded that day and the two of them wandered the paths aimlessly. Kal watched the other man out of the corner of his eye; Buruzh was lost in thought, his eyes unseeing. A bird trilled somewhere and Buruzh looked sharply in that direction. "Birdsong," he said softly. "I thought I'd never hear it again. Surrounded by telepaths--I wondered sometimes if I'd ever hear a human voice again."
He looked so wistful that Kal decided to take a chance. "I'm surprised you're so loyal to a people who basically held you prisoner all those years."
Buruzh frowned, a sharp furrow appearing between his eyebrows. "They had valid reasons for what they did. Atlantis is a great civilization, and I'm proud to be part of the generation that brings it fully into the world." He hesitated for just a moment. "Sometimes we need to...sacrifice our personal plans in order to make the world a better place."
Superman nodded. "I can understand that. But I'm not sure your place is below the ocean your whole life."
Buruzh said nothing, walking the path slowly, his eyes fixed on the endless sky. "The breaking wave," he finally said slowly. "Caught between the sea and the air." He didn't seem to be talking to Kal. He sighed and brought himself back down to earth, back to Kal's waiting eyes. "King Orin has told me to choose a few people to bring to Atlantis. I was wondering if you'd like to come and see my home. Maybe you'll understand me better then."
"I'd like that," said Kal simply.
: : :
Later, when the ambassador had left, Kal went back to the Internet cafe and called up the history of the browser Buruzh had been using. Stock reports for a particular company for the last fifteen years, a newspaper article about a famous unsolved disappearance, the name of a person holding an estate in trust.
Kal closed the browser thoughtfully, then went to change into costume. In moments he was in the air and on the way to Gotham.
Maybe he'd understand the ambassador from Atlantis better if he visited his home.
His real home.
Characters/Pairings: Superman, Bruce Wayne, Arthur Curry (King Orin, Aquaman).
Rating: PG
Summary: Superman's world is turned upside-down when he meets a mysterious ambassador from Atlantis.
Word count: 1700
Continuity: DC doesn't seem to worry about keeping Atlantis consistent, so this Atlantis (and Arthur) are almost entirely my cobbled-together creation.
Notes: Written for the World's Finest Gift Exchange, Prompt F07: An AU in which young Bruce Wayne's ship sinks during his travels and he becomes Prince Arthur's tutor and foster-brother. The full mini-series can be found here.
Twelve years ago
Orin felt it before he heard it--a burst of apprehension and anger from Buruzh's mind that had him pushing away from his desk and swimming as fast as possible toward the source. As he drew near, he could hear voices coming from the direction of the Academy courtyard.
"Nice job, landie. Another test passed with flying colors." Orin recognized the voice as Khelin, the Atlantean who had been top of his class at the Academy--until Buruzh had entered it.
"Perfect marks, in fact." That was Damar, one of Khelin's flunkies. Orin could hear a muttering of various other voices: maybe six in all.
"Thank you for your congratulations." Buruzh's voice was so even and controlled that Orin could hardly believe it was connected to the white-hot fury underneath it that only he could sense.
Khelin spat a curse. "Don't act high and mighty with us. We know the half-prince is feeding you the right answers."
"Atlantean telepathy doesn't work that way." Cold as ice water, incandescent heat underneath it.
"Oh, we all know you and our yellow-haired ruler share a special bond, don't you?" Sniggering from the group, and Orin pulled up just outside the courtyard, grimacing, unwilling to confirm their statement by appearing out of nowhere. "Him and his curse--he's going to bugger all of Atlantis, he's just getting practice with you--" Khelin's voice broke off abruptly into a yelp of pain as all of the anger went out of Buruzh's mind, replaced by an ice-cold sense of...precision that shocked Orin more than the anger had. The rest of the group soon added their shouts of pain to their leader's as the precision took on a cast of abstracted satisfaction.
Orin came around the corner and into the fray just as Buruzh finished kicking the last bully on the chin, his body floating in the water like it was flying, movements lazily graceful, almost languid. "Buruzh!" Orin swam up to him and his friend swung around; Orin dodged and Buruzh's open hand sliced by his head like a shark. "It's over, Buruzh," Orin said a bit shakily, watching the dark blue eyes slowly become familiar again.
Buruzh closed his eyes and floated silently for just a moment, and Orin could feel his shields solidifying again, blocking out everything but the almost subliminal trickle of emotions that he could never wholly keep from his prince. When his eyes opened once more, they were wry and slightly mocking--of himself, of the bullies, of the world in general, it was impossible to say.
"I don't like them calling you cursed," Buruzh said steadily.
Orin rested his hands on his brother's shoulders. "We'll find a way to win them over," he said.
Buruzh looked weary. "People like Khelin aren't won over by anything but brute force and intimidation and fear."
Orin allowed his smile to sharpen just a bit. "As I said, we'll find a way to win them over."
After a moment, Buruzh smiled back at him.
: : :
Kal was waiting on the pier when Buruzh's ship--a tiny little one-man pod--pulled up. The Atlantean ambassador pulled himself out of the ship and onto the pier, and Kal tried not to stare too obviously. Buruzh was wearing something midnight-blue that was silky, but definitely not silk, rippling like water over his lean frame. It was open at the neck and Kal could glimpse a cord around his neck: a polished shark's tooth hung from it.
Buruzh held out a hand and Kal took it briefly as the ambassador's eyebrows lifted, looking at him. "Is this what you usually look like out of costume, Superman?"
Kal laughed slightly. He wasn't Clark today--no glasses, no ill-fitting suit--instead, he was wearing a burgundy sweater cut in a vaguely Kryptonian style, his hair distinctively Superman's, his posture confident and unslouching. "You can call me Kal when I'm not in uniform," he said. He didn't often go around dressed like this, but he found that having people sometimes catch Superman "in civilian clothes" took suspicion away from Clark Kent. "That's what my parents called me," he explained, but Buruzh did not follow up on the implied invitation to say what his parents had named him.
They walked through Metropolis and Kal watched Buruzh taking everything in, those keen eyes scanning every detail of the architecture and technology, noting everything that had changed in his absence. He was especially interested in the cars, wanting to know the gas mileage and turning radius of nearly every new make that passed them. "When I was younger I...had plans to own the coolest car in the world," he said wryly.
"I'm sure you own the best ship in Atlantis."
Enthusiasm sparked in the other man's eyes. "Actually, I do! I've won the racing title three years running."
Kal had no doubt of it.
"So," he said casually, "Any land foods you've particularly missed?"
Buruzh looked thoughtful. "Pizza. Atlantis has something kind of like pizza, but it's mostly seaweed and..." He shuddered elaborately, startling a laugh out of Kal. "Let's just say it's not the same."
"Pizza it is, then," Kal said, heading toward a pizza joint that he knew was good; not one Clark visited regularly.
They got a fair amount of stares as they walked in and sat down. Some of the stares might have been because they recognized Superman out of costume, but as more people were staring at Buruzh than Kal it seemed more likely that it was shock at seeing this exotic beauty entering Gino's Pizzeria.
Kal knew just how they felt.
They talked over the pizza. Freed from the constraints of discussing the crisis of Sub Diego, the topics ranged across politics and scientific advances to discussions of popular culture. At first Buruzh was reticent, his questions almost brusque as he listened to Kal recount the last fifteen years' worth of politics, but when he found out that George Lucas had produced three more Star Wars movies in his absence he almost dropped his slice of pizza.
"You're kidding! I'll have to get a hold of those. Not that they have VCRs in Atlantis."
"They don't here much anymore either," Kal said wryly. "And I hate to be the one to break it to you, but they were...kind of a disappointment."
Buruzh shrugged. "I'm not sure that even matters. I just want to see them."
"We'll stop by an Internet cafe after this, pull up some pictures for you."
Buruzh's eyebrows arched. "Pictures? On the Internet? Sounds like computer technology has come a long way too."
Kal couldn't help smiling. "I think you'll be impressed."
: : :
Buruzh was indeed mightily impressed by the computer he found at the cafe. "Damn, damn, if only I could find a waterproof one to take back with me! Gigabytes of memory?" He made a strangled sound as he figured out how to work the browser and started poking around on the Internet. The Star Wars pictures were avidly consumed and Jar Jar Binks declared "totally bogus," but after that Kal noticed the searches quickly became more serious: crime rates in various cities, figures on murder and robbery.
Buruzh lingered a long time on the statistics for Gotham, his eyes tracing the jagged red peaks on the graphs. His mood shifted toward pensive, and Kal turned away and did some research on algae production for the Sub Diegans, giving him his privacy. About ten minutes into his research, a child timidly asked if he might be interested in signing an autograph, and after that it was about an hour of signing and smiling. Eventually he heard Buruzh sigh heavily and push his chair back. "How about you take me somewhere relaxing next?" the Atlantean said rather wryly.
Centennial Park was quiet and uncrowded that day and the two of them wandered the paths aimlessly. Kal watched the other man out of the corner of his eye; Buruzh was lost in thought, his eyes unseeing. A bird trilled somewhere and Buruzh looked sharply in that direction. "Birdsong," he said softly. "I thought I'd never hear it again. Surrounded by telepaths--I wondered sometimes if I'd ever hear a human voice again."
He looked so wistful that Kal decided to take a chance. "I'm surprised you're so loyal to a people who basically held you prisoner all those years."
Buruzh frowned, a sharp furrow appearing between his eyebrows. "They had valid reasons for what they did. Atlantis is a great civilization, and I'm proud to be part of the generation that brings it fully into the world." He hesitated for just a moment. "Sometimes we need to...sacrifice our personal plans in order to make the world a better place."
Superman nodded. "I can understand that. But I'm not sure your place is below the ocean your whole life."
Buruzh said nothing, walking the path slowly, his eyes fixed on the endless sky. "The breaking wave," he finally said slowly. "Caught between the sea and the air." He didn't seem to be talking to Kal. He sighed and brought himself back down to earth, back to Kal's waiting eyes. "King Orin has told me to choose a few people to bring to Atlantis. I was wondering if you'd like to come and see my home. Maybe you'll understand me better then."
"I'd like that," said Kal simply.
: : :
Later, when the ambassador had left, Kal went back to the Internet cafe and called up the history of the browser Buruzh had been using. Stock reports for a particular company for the last fifteen years, a newspaper article about a famous unsolved disappearance, the name of a person holding an estate in trust.
Kal closed the browser thoughtfully, then went to change into costume. In moments he was in the air and on the way to Gotham.
Maybe he'd understand the ambassador from Atlantis better if he visited his home.
His real home.