FIC: The Jewel in the Lotus (3/8)
Title: The Jewel in the Lotus 3/8
Pairing/Characters: Clark/Bruce
Notes: "Music of the Spheres" is a series set in the combined universes of "Batman Begins" and "Superman Returns." Other stories and notes on the series here.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Bruce meets with Lavender Lee, goes to yet another party, and greets the dawn with his lover.
Word Count: 1800
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Mr. Wayne." The woman on the other side of his desk was compact and composed, her straight dark hair falling slightly across her face and her dark eyes steady. A hint of a Chinese accent touched her words. "You've read my employer's letter?"
Bruce smiled one of his more charming smiles; the woman's mouth curved very faintly. "Yes, Ms Lee, and I must say I'm intrigued. Dr. Ivey's activities seem very promising." He'd checked the Institute; it had been founded twelve years ago and had an impeccable record. Doctor Ivey had been hired four years ago, according to their records--a little bit of extra computer hacking had found those.
Lavender Lee leaned forward, her eyes enthusiastic, and Bruce caught a faint wisp of perfume from her--lilacs and jasmine, like the scent of the letter. "Evelyn--Dr. Ivey, I mean--is our leading botanist. We have other researchers working on the animal restoration, and the ecological reclamation. But it's Dr. Ivey's work that's the closest to paying off."
She reached into a briefcase and pulled out an envelope. From inside it she drew a sheaf of photographs. "These are pictures of the flower species that we believe have gone extinct due to logging practices."
"My company's logging practices," Bruce murmured as he took them from her and began to leaf through them.
"Don't be too hard on yourself, Mr. Wayne," said Lavender sympathetically. "We're just hoping you'll see this as a chance to redeem some of the harm that's been done in your family's name."
Bruce's hands stilled on the papers. "What's this one?" The photograph underneath his fingers was of a flower floating on a still pond, its pristine white petals curving gracefully around a golden heart. Its symmetry almost seemed to glow from the paper.
"Ah." Lavender smiled, looking at the picture. "That is--was--Nelumbo Nitidum, the shining lotus. There are only two genii of Nelumbo lotuses left in the world, now that this one is gone." Bruce nodded absently, staring at the flower. Lavender rose to stand behind him and look over his shoulder; her perfume was much stronger close up. "It's lovely, isn't it? Nelumbo is a sacred flower for Hindus and Buddhists, so it's an even greater loss." There was a pause while they looked at the flower together; she went on, "The Lalitavistara Sutra says that 'the spirit of the best of men is spotless, like the lotus in the muddy water which does not adhere to it'."
Spotless...
Bruce drew back his hand to find the woman looking at him compassionately. "I know you want to do the right thing, Mr. Wayne. Make your parents proud."
Bruce opened his drawer and took out his checkbook. "How much would help?"
Lavender Lee smiled.
: : :
"Christine, Crystal, please girls, let a guy have some air!" Clark sipped his orange juice and watched Bruce disentangling himself from two identical blondes, almost sloshing champagne on them both. The headlines next day would probably be about how Brucie Wayne was breaking his wallflower boyfriend's heart yet again, the shameless flirt. The Gotham gossips were always laying odds that some pretty face would finally distract Bruce from poor long-suffering Clark Kent. If they knew how fervently Bruce threw himself at Clark after one of these outings...
Clark's smile touched his lips and faded. He knew he looked worried, and that people would take that to be jealousy, but in truth he was rather concerned. Not about Christa or Carrie, but about Bruce. He never asked Clark to come to the endless round of soirees, but Clark could see the relief in his lover's eyes when he volunteered--and he had been volunteering more and more lately. Having him there seemed to make the foppish charade easier. Bruce would look over at him and almost wink, or Clark would hum subvocally and watch the smile actually reach Bruce's eyes.
As Clark watched, Bruce suddenly was free of the two women, his smile wide and abruptly genuine. "Dr. Sugiyama!" he exclaimed. Clark turned to see a tall man with a deeply lined face, his temples touched with gray: Dr. Michael Sugiyama, who last month had been rendered catatonic by Jonathan Crane and his fear toxin. Crane had dosed the surgeon with a toxin creating fear of blood in the middle of surgery; the doctor had completed the operation and then lapsed into unresponsiveness.
Bruce held out his hand and the doctor shook it, smiling slightly. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Bruce."
"It's much more a pleasure to see you, doctor. How are you doing?"
"I'm doing much better, thanks to your help," the doctor said. "I may even be able to get back to work again eventually."
Bruce laughed slightly. "I didn't do much."
"My boy, you kept me out of Arkham. That's quite a bit in my book."
Bruce sipped his champagne as if to hide his smile. "Thank you," he said softly.
Sugiyama tilted his head to the side slightly, his face concerned again. "Bruce..." he said rather hesitantly, "I appreciate all you've done for me, but don't you ever want to make a real difference in Gotham? Your father, he had such great plans for the future," he went on as Clark watched Bruce's face stiffen. "I know he was hoping you'd follow in his footsteps, in medicine--but he would have been proud of any path you'd chosen to help Gotham," he added hastily. "The Wayne family was so well-known for its work to keep this city safe and beautiful..." His voice trailed off into vagueness, and Clark heard Bruce swallow.
A shrill giggle cut across his voice. "Brucie keeps the city beautiful, don't you, Bruce? By keeping us around!" One of the blond girls draped herself on his left arm, the other on his right. "You're not being fun, Brucie," the woman said with a pout.
"Yeah, ditch the fogey and join the party!" chirped the other.
Bruce looked at the women and at Dr. Sugiyama; Clark saw a muscle twitch at the corner of his eye. "Actually..." he said, "I'm not feeling so great right now. I don't mean to be rude, but I'd better be heading home." He pried the protesting women off of him, nodded politely to the doctor, and headed for the door. On the way, he set his glass on the table so hard most of the drink sloshed out.
Clark followed him.
He reached the car to find Bruce already sitting in the front seat, his forehead resting on the steering wheel. As Clark opened the door, he straightened and started the car. Clark opened his mouth, but Bruce cut him off. "--Just give me a moment, Clark, please."
They drove back to the Manor in silence. Clark trailed Bruce into the Manor and to the library. Bruce sank onto the couch under the portrait of his parents, closing his eyes; Clark sat down next to him. Waiting.
"Sometimes I just can't do it," Bruce said, his eyes still closed, head tilted back against the couch. "I'm sorry, I just can't."
"There's nothing to be sorry about."
"I can deal with people thinking I'm stupid, thinking I'm shallow. But when I realize the damage I'm doing to the Wayne family name..."
"You're doing a lot of good in that name as well, Bruce. Charity work. Medical research."
Bruce grimaced slightly. "That stays under the radar. I make sure to keep it that way. Getting sued by the Indonesian government for destroying their rainforests--that gets in the papers."
"You weren't responsible for that. It was done while you were gone."
"I abandoned my responsibility to my parents' legacy. I'm responsible for those extinctions as surely as if I had gone there and rooted the flowers out with my own hands. Extinction is forever, Clark. It's not something I can ever undo. And it was done in the name of my family."
Bruce's voice was so bleak that Clark risked reaching out and resting a hand on his knee. "I never knew your parents, Bruce. But I think they'd care more about the actual safety of the city than the purity of their family name. I think they'd understand what you're doing."
After a moment, Bruce leaned over, his eyes still closed, and buried his face in Clark's shoulder. "I'll never know," he said hoarsely as Clark put his arms around him. "I'll never be sure."
Clark held him, feeling the weight of the portrait's painted gaze behind them. Then he scooped Bruce up in his arms. "To bed, love," he said softly. Bruce made an inarticulate sound and clung tighter.
Once out of the library, Bruce's hands began to unbutton Clark's shirt, his lips to caress the skin beneath. Clark resisted the urge to use super-speed to get them both to the bedroom as Bruce's touch grew more insistent, climbing the great staircase slowly as ties and suit coats and cummerbunds fell like rain. By the time they reached the door of the bedroom, Bruce had gotten his hands into Clark's pants somehow and was murmuring in delight at Clark's reaction. No more demons tonight, love, Clark promised as he pushed Bruce against the heavy walnut door with the Wayne crest carved into it, kissed him until his lover was panting and moaning, abandoned to desire, forgetting even his name. Nothing but joy.
: : :
Clark woke up much later to the sound of rustling silk in his ears: not the sheets, he realized as he rolled over and found himself in bed alone, but the sound of the wind singing through Batman's cape. He smiled and listened to his love in flight, the whistling metallic hum of the decel line, the rising and falling rhythms of Bruce's life. It was a quiet patrol, and for a long time there was no sound but the sleeping city and Bruce's soft breathing.
Clark got out of bed and pulled the sheets up into some kind of order. There was still time to get to Metropolis for a couple of hours' patrol of his own. As he changed into the Superman costume and lifted into the night sky, he heard the distinctive thump of Batman's boots hitting pavement, gasps of alarm from someone caught doing something they shouldn't.
His own patrol was uneventful. The night lightened slowly into indigo, the shadows lightening and becoming transparent. The sky began to flush with dawn, and Superman lifted himself above his city to catch the moment the sun appeared over the horizon.
Their moment.
As the first light of dawn touched the Eastern seaboard, he heard Bruce's soft inhalation in his ear and smiled, closing his eyes. Another morning with both of them healthy and able to greet the sun together. Another miracle.
"Good morning," Bruce whispered.
"Good morning," Kal said back.
Pairing/Characters: Clark/Bruce
Notes: "Music of the Spheres" is a series set in the combined universes of "Batman Begins" and "Superman Returns." Other stories and notes on the series here.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Bruce meets with Lavender Lee, goes to yet another party, and greets the dawn with his lover.
Word Count: 1800
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Mr. Wayne." The woman on the other side of his desk was compact and composed, her straight dark hair falling slightly across her face and her dark eyes steady. A hint of a Chinese accent touched her words. "You've read my employer's letter?"
Bruce smiled one of his more charming smiles; the woman's mouth curved very faintly. "Yes, Ms Lee, and I must say I'm intrigued. Dr. Ivey's activities seem very promising." He'd checked the Institute; it had been founded twelve years ago and had an impeccable record. Doctor Ivey had been hired four years ago, according to their records--a little bit of extra computer hacking had found those.
Lavender Lee leaned forward, her eyes enthusiastic, and Bruce caught a faint wisp of perfume from her--lilacs and jasmine, like the scent of the letter. "Evelyn--Dr. Ivey, I mean--is our leading botanist. We have other researchers working on the animal restoration, and the ecological reclamation. But it's Dr. Ivey's work that's the closest to paying off."
She reached into a briefcase and pulled out an envelope. From inside it she drew a sheaf of photographs. "These are pictures of the flower species that we believe have gone extinct due to logging practices."
"My company's logging practices," Bruce murmured as he took them from her and began to leaf through them.
"Don't be too hard on yourself, Mr. Wayne," said Lavender sympathetically. "We're just hoping you'll see this as a chance to redeem some of the harm that's been done in your family's name."
Bruce's hands stilled on the papers. "What's this one?" The photograph underneath his fingers was of a flower floating on a still pond, its pristine white petals curving gracefully around a golden heart. Its symmetry almost seemed to glow from the paper.
"Ah." Lavender smiled, looking at the picture. "That is--was--Nelumbo Nitidum, the shining lotus. There are only two genii of Nelumbo lotuses left in the world, now that this one is gone." Bruce nodded absently, staring at the flower. Lavender rose to stand behind him and look over his shoulder; her perfume was much stronger close up. "It's lovely, isn't it? Nelumbo is a sacred flower for Hindus and Buddhists, so it's an even greater loss." There was a pause while they looked at the flower together; she went on, "The Lalitavistara Sutra says that 'the spirit of the best of men is spotless, like the lotus in the muddy water which does not adhere to it'."
Spotless...
Bruce drew back his hand to find the woman looking at him compassionately. "I know you want to do the right thing, Mr. Wayne. Make your parents proud."
Bruce opened his drawer and took out his checkbook. "How much would help?"
Lavender Lee smiled.
: : :
"Christine, Crystal, please girls, let a guy have some air!" Clark sipped his orange juice and watched Bruce disentangling himself from two identical blondes, almost sloshing champagne on them both. The headlines next day would probably be about how Brucie Wayne was breaking his wallflower boyfriend's heart yet again, the shameless flirt. The Gotham gossips were always laying odds that some pretty face would finally distract Bruce from poor long-suffering Clark Kent. If they knew how fervently Bruce threw himself at Clark after one of these outings...
Clark's smile touched his lips and faded. He knew he looked worried, and that people would take that to be jealousy, but in truth he was rather concerned. Not about Christa or Carrie, but about Bruce. He never asked Clark to come to the endless round of soirees, but Clark could see the relief in his lover's eyes when he volunteered--and he had been volunteering more and more lately. Having him there seemed to make the foppish charade easier. Bruce would look over at him and almost wink, or Clark would hum subvocally and watch the smile actually reach Bruce's eyes.
As Clark watched, Bruce suddenly was free of the two women, his smile wide and abruptly genuine. "Dr. Sugiyama!" he exclaimed. Clark turned to see a tall man with a deeply lined face, his temples touched with gray: Dr. Michael Sugiyama, who last month had been rendered catatonic by Jonathan Crane and his fear toxin. Crane had dosed the surgeon with a toxin creating fear of blood in the middle of surgery; the doctor had completed the operation and then lapsed into unresponsiveness.
Bruce held out his hand and the doctor shook it, smiling slightly. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Bruce."
"It's much more a pleasure to see you, doctor. How are you doing?"
"I'm doing much better, thanks to your help," the doctor said. "I may even be able to get back to work again eventually."
Bruce laughed slightly. "I didn't do much."
"My boy, you kept me out of Arkham. That's quite a bit in my book."
Bruce sipped his champagne as if to hide his smile. "Thank you," he said softly.
Sugiyama tilted his head to the side slightly, his face concerned again. "Bruce..." he said rather hesitantly, "I appreciate all you've done for me, but don't you ever want to make a real difference in Gotham? Your father, he had such great plans for the future," he went on as Clark watched Bruce's face stiffen. "I know he was hoping you'd follow in his footsteps, in medicine--but he would have been proud of any path you'd chosen to help Gotham," he added hastily. "The Wayne family was so well-known for its work to keep this city safe and beautiful..." His voice trailed off into vagueness, and Clark heard Bruce swallow.
A shrill giggle cut across his voice. "Brucie keeps the city beautiful, don't you, Bruce? By keeping us around!" One of the blond girls draped herself on his left arm, the other on his right. "You're not being fun, Brucie," the woman said with a pout.
"Yeah, ditch the fogey and join the party!" chirped the other.
Bruce looked at the women and at Dr. Sugiyama; Clark saw a muscle twitch at the corner of his eye. "Actually..." he said, "I'm not feeling so great right now. I don't mean to be rude, but I'd better be heading home." He pried the protesting women off of him, nodded politely to the doctor, and headed for the door. On the way, he set his glass on the table so hard most of the drink sloshed out.
Clark followed him.
He reached the car to find Bruce already sitting in the front seat, his forehead resting on the steering wheel. As Clark opened the door, he straightened and started the car. Clark opened his mouth, but Bruce cut him off. "--Just give me a moment, Clark, please."
They drove back to the Manor in silence. Clark trailed Bruce into the Manor and to the library. Bruce sank onto the couch under the portrait of his parents, closing his eyes; Clark sat down next to him. Waiting.
"Sometimes I just can't do it," Bruce said, his eyes still closed, head tilted back against the couch. "I'm sorry, I just can't."
"There's nothing to be sorry about."
"I can deal with people thinking I'm stupid, thinking I'm shallow. But when I realize the damage I'm doing to the Wayne family name..."
"You're doing a lot of good in that name as well, Bruce. Charity work. Medical research."
Bruce grimaced slightly. "That stays under the radar. I make sure to keep it that way. Getting sued by the Indonesian government for destroying their rainforests--that gets in the papers."
"You weren't responsible for that. It was done while you were gone."
"I abandoned my responsibility to my parents' legacy. I'm responsible for those extinctions as surely as if I had gone there and rooted the flowers out with my own hands. Extinction is forever, Clark. It's not something I can ever undo. And it was done in the name of my family."
Bruce's voice was so bleak that Clark risked reaching out and resting a hand on his knee. "I never knew your parents, Bruce. But I think they'd care more about the actual safety of the city than the purity of their family name. I think they'd understand what you're doing."
After a moment, Bruce leaned over, his eyes still closed, and buried his face in Clark's shoulder. "I'll never know," he said hoarsely as Clark put his arms around him. "I'll never be sure."
Clark held him, feeling the weight of the portrait's painted gaze behind them. Then he scooped Bruce up in his arms. "To bed, love," he said softly. Bruce made an inarticulate sound and clung tighter.
Once out of the library, Bruce's hands began to unbutton Clark's shirt, his lips to caress the skin beneath. Clark resisted the urge to use super-speed to get them both to the bedroom as Bruce's touch grew more insistent, climbing the great staircase slowly as ties and suit coats and cummerbunds fell like rain. By the time they reached the door of the bedroom, Bruce had gotten his hands into Clark's pants somehow and was murmuring in delight at Clark's reaction. No more demons tonight, love, Clark promised as he pushed Bruce against the heavy walnut door with the Wayne crest carved into it, kissed him until his lover was panting and moaning, abandoned to desire, forgetting even his name. Nothing but joy.
: : :
Clark woke up much later to the sound of rustling silk in his ears: not the sheets, he realized as he rolled over and found himself in bed alone, but the sound of the wind singing through Batman's cape. He smiled and listened to his love in flight, the whistling metallic hum of the decel line, the rising and falling rhythms of Bruce's life. It was a quiet patrol, and for a long time there was no sound but the sleeping city and Bruce's soft breathing.
Clark got out of bed and pulled the sheets up into some kind of order. There was still time to get to Metropolis for a couple of hours' patrol of his own. As he changed into the Superman costume and lifted into the night sky, he heard the distinctive thump of Batman's boots hitting pavement, gasps of alarm from someone caught doing something they shouldn't.
His own patrol was uneventful. The night lightened slowly into indigo, the shadows lightening and becoming transparent. The sky began to flush with dawn, and Superman lifted himself above his city to catch the moment the sun appeared over the horizon.
Their moment.
As the first light of dawn touched the Eastern seaboard, he heard Bruce's soft inhalation in his ear and smiled, closing his eyes. Another morning with both of them healthy and able to greet the sun together. Another miracle.
"Good morning," Bruce whispered.
"Good morning," Kal said back.