Ficlet: Race Against Time
Title: Race Against Time
Characters/Pairings: Clark/Bruce, Dick Grayson
Rating: G
Summary: Batman hunts the night, but he knows time is running out.
Word count: 630
Notes: For
ladybugkay's birthday! *hugs*
The sun was bloodying the skies of Gotham, staining them with streaks of red, as Batman made his way along the warehouse roofs. His footing was cat-like and sure, but his heart was pounding as he searched for the Riddler. The sun was almost down.
Not much time left.
Peering through dusty windows, he could feel the tension in his body like a tight-wound spring. He couldn't be too late. He couldn't! His heartbeat was like a metronome, every tick one less second he had left.
Dick...
Finally, finally, he spotted the Riddler and his henchmen skulking in an empty warehouse. The Riddler was holding a gun in one hand and a saw in the other, gesticulating wildly at his minions.
Like an avenging angel of doom, Batman fell from the roof, his kicks precise and calculated. But his mind was racing, his thoughts elsewhere, and he left himself open for just a second. A goon's heavy boot connected with his ribs and Batman winced before leveling his opponent. Careless. Careless! He couldn't afford stupid mistakes with so little time to lose!
The Riddler peeked out from behind a stack of crates as Batman took out the last of his men. "So, Batman," he said gleefully. "Why is a handgun like a hacksa-awk!"
Batman knocked both weapons away from the Riddler with two vicious kicks, scooped him up unceremoniously and headed for police headquarters, the Riddler's shrieks turning to moans as solid ground fell away from them.
Commissioner Gordon burst onto the roof and raised an eyebrow at the prostrate form of Edward Nigma, dumped in a heap by Batman. The vigilante dusted his hands off and turned to go. "Batman, wait! What happen--"
Batman turned, his every motion screaming of urgency. "Commissioner. There's somewhere I have to be, right now. Forgive me." He was gone in a flutter of silk. Behind him, the Riddler was complaining to anyone who would listen that the Bat hadn't even tried to guess the riddle, and that hardly seemed sporting...
The buildings fell away around him as Batman swung toward the Batmobile. He swooped by the clock tower and winced as he passed its illuminated face: quarter of eight. I can do this. It's not too late. I won't let you down, Dick, I swear it. His heart beat an urgent tattoo as he raced against time, raced to make it. Dick...
: : :
Clark Kent looked at his watch for the fifteenth time in five minutes. Bruce wasn't going to make it. What was he going to tell Dick? He was such an understanding kid, but--
The back door of the gym swung open and Bruce tiptoed in just as the lights went down. "Sorry I'm late," he whispered to Clark as Dick's sixth-grade teacher gave him the evil eye--irresponsible parents always brought out the termagant in Mrs. Merrill.
Clark caught up his hand, feeling Bruce's pulse pounding in his wrist. "You're just in time," he whispered back.
Bruce's sigh of relief was lost in the rustle of applause as the first children took the stage to begin the school play. Mr. and Mrs. Darling tucked their children in, Wendy went to the window and threw it open--and Peter Pan appeared in the window, as light as if he were flying, to a murmur of surprised approval from the audience.
Peter Pan's dark blue eyes scanned the audience as he spoke to Wendy. When he spotted Bruce sitting in the back, the smile on his face was enough to wipe out the ache in Bruce's ribs.
Clark felt Bruce's hand tighten in his. "He's good," Bruce whispered as Dick continued his lines, his figure on the window sill looking ready to take to the air at any moment.
"So are you," Clark whispered back.
Characters/Pairings: Clark/Bruce, Dick Grayson
Rating: G
Summary: Batman hunts the night, but he knows time is running out.
Word count: 630
Notes: For
ladybugkay's birthday! *hugs*
The sun was bloodying the skies of Gotham, staining them with streaks of red, as Batman made his way along the warehouse roofs. His footing was cat-like and sure, but his heart was pounding as he searched for the Riddler. The sun was almost down.
Not much time left.
Peering through dusty windows, he could feel the tension in his body like a tight-wound spring. He couldn't be too late. He couldn't! His heartbeat was like a metronome, every tick one less second he had left.
Dick...
Finally, finally, he spotted the Riddler and his henchmen skulking in an empty warehouse. The Riddler was holding a gun in one hand and a saw in the other, gesticulating wildly at his minions.
Like an avenging angel of doom, Batman fell from the roof, his kicks precise and calculated. But his mind was racing, his thoughts elsewhere, and he left himself open for just a second. A goon's heavy boot connected with his ribs and Batman winced before leveling his opponent. Careless. Careless! He couldn't afford stupid mistakes with so little time to lose!
The Riddler peeked out from behind a stack of crates as Batman took out the last of his men. "So, Batman," he said gleefully. "Why is a handgun like a hacksa-awk!"
Batman knocked both weapons away from the Riddler with two vicious kicks, scooped him up unceremoniously and headed for police headquarters, the Riddler's shrieks turning to moans as solid ground fell away from them.
Commissioner Gordon burst onto the roof and raised an eyebrow at the prostrate form of Edward Nigma, dumped in a heap by Batman. The vigilante dusted his hands off and turned to go. "Batman, wait! What happen--"
Batman turned, his every motion screaming of urgency. "Commissioner. There's somewhere I have to be, right now. Forgive me." He was gone in a flutter of silk. Behind him, the Riddler was complaining to anyone who would listen that the Bat hadn't even tried to guess the riddle, and that hardly seemed sporting...
The buildings fell away around him as Batman swung toward the Batmobile. He swooped by the clock tower and winced as he passed its illuminated face: quarter of eight. I can do this. It's not too late. I won't let you down, Dick, I swear it. His heart beat an urgent tattoo as he raced against time, raced to make it. Dick...
: : :
Clark Kent looked at his watch for the fifteenth time in five minutes. Bruce wasn't going to make it. What was he going to tell Dick? He was such an understanding kid, but--
The back door of the gym swung open and Bruce tiptoed in just as the lights went down. "Sorry I'm late," he whispered to Clark as Dick's sixth-grade teacher gave him the evil eye--irresponsible parents always brought out the termagant in Mrs. Merrill.
Clark caught up his hand, feeling Bruce's pulse pounding in his wrist. "You're just in time," he whispered back.
Bruce's sigh of relief was lost in the rustle of applause as the first children took the stage to begin the school play. Mr. and Mrs. Darling tucked their children in, Wendy went to the window and threw it open--and Peter Pan appeared in the window, as light as if he were flying, to a murmur of surprised approval from the audience.
Peter Pan's dark blue eyes scanned the audience as he spoke to Wendy. When he spotted Bruce sitting in the back, the smile on his face was enough to wipe out the ache in Bruce's ribs.
Clark felt Bruce's hand tighten in his. "He's good," Bruce whispered as Dick continued his lines, his figure on the window sill looking ready to take to the air at any moment.
"So are you," Clark whispered back.