FIC: The Jewel in the Lotus (6/8)
Title: The Jewel in the Lotus 6/8
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
Summary: Bruce Wayne and Lavender Lee arrive in Sumatra, and Bruce is asked to make a sacrifice.
Word Count: 1800
Bruce and his escort landed in Padang and got into a mud-splashed Jeep driven by a large, burly man. "Isn't the Institute here in Padang?" Bruce asked, waving a hand at the small city.
"Oh no," said Lavender Lee soothingly. "Dr. Ivey is working deep in the rainforest. We have to go much deeper to find her and the lotus." She put an arm around Bruce as the Jeep lurched north, away from the coast and into the rainforest. The light, sweet perfume was stronger than ever, and Bruce felt almost dizzy with it. He had to go deeper, like she said. That made sense. He had to go deeper, to find the way to ensure his parents would always be proud of him. He'd never have to worry about it again, never have to look at their portrait and wonder, never have to look at his face in the mirror and fear. He just had to perform this one act of redemption, to hold the lotus that he had plucked from annihilation in his own hands, shining.
Lavender and the driver were humming to themselves, the same mantra Lavender had been chanting on the plane. He murmured it to himself: "Om mani padme hum," and Lavender smiled radiantly at him.
"It brings peace, doesn't it, Brucie? Peace and tranquility. Enlightenment and certainty."
A part of Bruce noticed with a detached interest that he had gone from being "Mr. Wayne" to "Bruce" and then "Brucie" in the course of this trip, somehow. But it made sense. Brucie was a child's name, and he was still his parents' child. He had to return to Brucie before he could redeem himself. Return to the pure child he had been, so long ago. Only then would he be worthy to touch the jewel in the lotus.
They drove on through ever-thickening jungle, palms and vines deepening around them, the canopy creating a sort of eternal twilight. Birds cried out in the trees around them, flashes of bright feathers, here and gone. The Jeep pulled off the road onto a mere intimation of path and continued.
They rounded a corner and Bruce blinked at the sight: a ziggurat-like temple of ancient gray stone, rising within the undergrowth. "That looks like a Buddhist temple," he said, realizing belatedly that Brucie Wayne was hardly well-versed in religious architecture. He blinked owlishly at Lavender to cover the slip. "I thought Indonesia was a Muslim nation or...something like that?"
"There are remains on these islands of a time when the great Buddhist empires ruled this realm," Lavender said reverently as the Jeep came to a halt. "We found this one, hidden deep in the jungle. It's our base of operations." She brought her hands together in front of her chest and bowed toward the temple. "Here we serve Green Tara, Mother of Liberation, the source of enlightenment."
Environmental scientists worshiping a Buddhist goddess seemed rather incongruous to Bruce, but he chose not to point that out. If Lavender became angry at him and denied him access to the lotus now, when he was so close...Bruce's heart twisted in his chest. He couldn't bear it, he knew that. He couldn't go on without seeing it, touching the pure white petals, feeling his liberation.
As they drew closer, Bruce could see that the temple's walls were covered with bas-relief drawings, covered with lichen and moss. Gods and goddesses swarmed across the crumbling stone walls, their eyes fixed on Bruce, challenging him.
He took a deep breath and entered the darkness of the temple.
Incongruously, there was a small folding table in the antechamber, piled with papers. "I'm so sorry, Brucie, but before we go on, you have to sign some paperwork."
Bruce nodded wearily. There was always paperwork. Waivers and affidavits, consent forms and reimbursement forms. He sat down and Lavender put a pen into his hand.
He started signing his name.
An hour later, the forms were blurring in front of him, and there seemed to be no decrease in the pile. Lavender and the driver were sitting cross-legged on the stone floor, their voices echoing eerily as they chanted together. The musty scent of the temple didn't seem to drown out Lavender's perfume, and Bruce had a hard time focusing on even keeping his signature clear, much less reading every single damn form. He didn't have time for this. The paperwork was keeping him from redemption, from the lotus of his salvation. He felt a vicious urge to throw all the forms to the floor and demand that Lavender take him there--but no. He couldn't risk it. Not when he had come so far, when he could almost feel it, shining in the darkness nearby, waiting for him.
He signed and signed and signed, and finally found himself staring at an empty patch of desk. He was done.
Lavender rose with fluid grace from the floor. "Good job, Brucie," she said sweetly, and tousled his hair. She held out her hand. "Come with me now. I'll take you on the last step of your journey."
Brucie let her lead him deeper into the temple. Deeper.
Lavender stopped in front of a bas-relief of a handsome young man sitting in a beautiful garden. "You walk the path of Siddhartha now. The path of enlightenment. Green Tara shall show you the way, as she did Prince Siddhartha."
Brucie stared at the young man's face, unlined and carefree, as Lavender went on. "Siddhartha was a Prince of Earth, raised without cares, sheltered in his family's garden, kept from all worries and all fears. He was unenlightened. But Green Tara showed him the path."
They stepped forward to another carving: the same young man on a horse, being confronted by a wizened old man. The look on the prince's face was of shock and horror. "But one day the prince ventured out into the world, and there he encountered an old man, bent and aged. 'What is this sight?' he exclaimed, and was told that the man would die soon. The prince had never known of death, and the knowledge struck him to his core. But Green Tara showed him the path."
Fragments of ceramic and stone crunched under their feet as they moved deeper into the darkness, the driver's flickering torch the only light. Here the prince was confronted by a man suffering from some kind of disease, a corpse, and an emaciated man. "Everywhere the prince went, he saw only suffering and pain, and his heart knew despair." Bruce felt the darkness around them pressing in on him, dank and suffocating. "Was this the fate of all beings--to wither and die in pointless agony? He cried out in anguish: How can I help them, my people? And Green Tara showed him the way."
The next bas-relief showed the prince sitting under a tree, his legs crossed, his eyes closed. Lavender's voice was almost disembodied, sibilant. "Siddhartha meditated. He asked for guidance, for something he could do to redeem himself and all of humanity." There was a pause. "Will you ask for guidance, Bruce Wayne? Would you redeem yourself, your family, all humanity--whatever the cost?"
That was easy. "Of course."
"Anything?"
"Anything."
"Green Tara will show you the way," said the voice in the darkness, and the circle of lamplight moved on.
The same man underneath the same tree--yet totally different. His eyes were open, an expression of serene bliss on his face. He was holding in his hands an opened lotus flower. "Yes," whispered Bruce. "Yes. That's what I need. Liberation. Enlightenment." He whirled, trying to locate Lavender outside the circle of light. "Guide me there."
Lavender stepped back into the circle, her face grave. "You ask a hard thing, Bruce Wayne."
Impatience cascaded through him. "Show me the way."
Lavender bowed her head. "The shining lotus must come to fruition, must bear seed. It needs sustenance to grow strong enough to do so." She looked up at him again. "It needs the blood of a willing human to nurture it to completion. Only then shall the jewel in the lotus come forth to shine for all the world."
For a shocked moment, Bruce hesitated. The Buddha found the Middle Path, part of him insisted: the Middle Path between hedonistic selfishness and vicious self-mortification. Buddhism required no such blood sacrifices.
But a deeper part of him knew that at some level this was true, that nothing came without sacrifice, that there was no pinnacle without pain. From his annihilation would arise salvation, from his negation the fruition of beauty.
Surely his parents would approve.
"Very well," he said.
Lavender smiled. "One more step, Brucie. Then you'll be freed from the endless burden of karma with your sacrifice." She stepped forward to place a reverent kiss on his brow. "Green Tara awaits you."
The carving of the enlightened Buddha grated and swiveled to reveal a passageway.
Bruce started down it without hesitation.
: : :
Pamela Isley waited, standing behind the altar, surrounded by clouds of sweet-smelling incense. She inhaled deeply, letting the smoke lift her above herself, leaving the scientist behind. She had come to understand there were things more important than science. The drug sang in her veins: the song of her mother the Earth, the only family she needed.
Isley fell away and left Green Tara in her place, avatar of the Goddess, bringer of liberation. Her skin was painted emerald, golden bracelets jangling on her hands and ankles, golden cords in her scarlet hair. Euphoria twined around her like the smoke: the wicked will face justice and their blood will nourish the Earth. Soon the Great Mission would have nearly inexhaustible funds, willed to her by Bruce Wayne himself. His body would never be found. She gripped the knife tighter as the Sacrifice entered the room, lifting her arms so that the flickering lamplight cast a multiplicity of shadows onto the stones behind her.
He stared at her, his handsome face filled with wonder, and his awe exalted her even more. Feel the righteous wrath of the Earth itself, unworthy one, she thought fiercely. Aloud she said, "Approach and be cleansed."
The Sacrifice ascended the steps toward her, though the misty veils of drugged incense. He stopped halfway, shaking his head, and staggered slightly. That was unexpected; he must have deeper reserves of character than she had imagined, to resist at this point. "Bruce Wayne," she intoned. "Your mother the Earth demands this. Your father the Sky demands it. You must redeem your name and through your sacrifice bring forth new life into the light, out of the darkness."
"Into the light, out of the darkness," muttered the Sacrifice. "Out of..." He sighed deeply, as if putting away a burden. "Yes."
He climbed the last few steps to her.
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
Summary: Bruce Wayne and Lavender Lee arrive in Sumatra, and Bruce is asked to make a sacrifice.
Word Count: 1800
Bruce and his escort landed in Padang and got into a mud-splashed Jeep driven by a large, burly man. "Isn't the Institute here in Padang?" Bruce asked, waving a hand at the small city.
"Oh no," said Lavender Lee soothingly. "Dr. Ivey is working deep in the rainforest. We have to go much deeper to find her and the lotus." She put an arm around Bruce as the Jeep lurched north, away from the coast and into the rainforest. The light, sweet perfume was stronger than ever, and Bruce felt almost dizzy with it. He had to go deeper, like she said. That made sense. He had to go deeper, to find the way to ensure his parents would always be proud of him. He'd never have to worry about it again, never have to look at their portrait and wonder, never have to look at his face in the mirror and fear. He just had to perform this one act of redemption, to hold the lotus that he had plucked from annihilation in his own hands, shining.
Lavender and the driver were humming to themselves, the same mantra Lavender had been chanting on the plane. He murmured it to himself: "Om mani padme hum," and Lavender smiled radiantly at him.
"It brings peace, doesn't it, Brucie? Peace and tranquility. Enlightenment and certainty."
A part of Bruce noticed with a detached interest that he had gone from being "Mr. Wayne" to "Bruce" and then "Brucie" in the course of this trip, somehow. But it made sense. Brucie was a child's name, and he was still his parents' child. He had to return to Brucie before he could redeem himself. Return to the pure child he had been, so long ago. Only then would he be worthy to touch the jewel in the lotus.
They drove on through ever-thickening jungle, palms and vines deepening around them, the canopy creating a sort of eternal twilight. Birds cried out in the trees around them, flashes of bright feathers, here and gone. The Jeep pulled off the road onto a mere intimation of path and continued.
They rounded a corner and Bruce blinked at the sight: a ziggurat-like temple of ancient gray stone, rising within the undergrowth. "That looks like a Buddhist temple," he said, realizing belatedly that Brucie Wayne was hardly well-versed in religious architecture. He blinked owlishly at Lavender to cover the slip. "I thought Indonesia was a Muslim nation or...something like that?"
"There are remains on these islands of a time when the great Buddhist empires ruled this realm," Lavender said reverently as the Jeep came to a halt. "We found this one, hidden deep in the jungle. It's our base of operations." She brought her hands together in front of her chest and bowed toward the temple. "Here we serve Green Tara, Mother of Liberation, the source of enlightenment."
Environmental scientists worshiping a Buddhist goddess seemed rather incongruous to Bruce, but he chose not to point that out. If Lavender became angry at him and denied him access to the lotus now, when he was so close...Bruce's heart twisted in his chest. He couldn't bear it, he knew that. He couldn't go on without seeing it, touching the pure white petals, feeling his liberation.
As they drew closer, Bruce could see that the temple's walls were covered with bas-relief drawings, covered with lichen and moss. Gods and goddesses swarmed across the crumbling stone walls, their eyes fixed on Bruce, challenging him.
He took a deep breath and entered the darkness of the temple.
Incongruously, there was a small folding table in the antechamber, piled with papers. "I'm so sorry, Brucie, but before we go on, you have to sign some paperwork."
Bruce nodded wearily. There was always paperwork. Waivers and affidavits, consent forms and reimbursement forms. He sat down and Lavender put a pen into his hand.
He started signing his name.
An hour later, the forms were blurring in front of him, and there seemed to be no decrease in the pile. Lavender and the driver were sitting cross-legged on the stone floor, their voices echoing eerily as they chanted together. The musty scent of the temple didn't seem to drown out Lavender's perfume, and Bruce had a hard time focusing on even keeping his signature clear, much less reading every single damn form. He didn't have time for this. The paperwork was keeping him from redemption, from the lotus of his salvation. He felt a vicious urge to throw all the forms to the floor and demand that Lavender take him there--but no. He couldn't risk it. Not when he had come so far, when he could almost feel it, shining in the darkness nearby, waiting for him.
He signed and signed and signed, and finally found himself staring at an empty patch of desk. He was done.
Lavender rose with fluid grace from the floor. "Good job, Brucie," she said sweetly, and tousled his hair. She held out her hand. "Come with me now. I'll take you on the last step of your journey."
Brucie let her lead him deeper into the temple. Deeper.
Lavender stopped in front of a bas-relief of a handsome young man sitting in a beautiful garden. "You walk the path of Siddhartha now. The path of enlightenment. Green Tara shall show you the way, as she did Prince Siddhartha."
Brucie stared at the young man's face, unlined and carefree, as Lavender went on. "Siddhartha was a Prince of Earth, raised without cares, sheltered in his family's garden, kept from all worries and all fears. He was unenlightened. But Green Tara showed him the path."
They stepped forward to another carving: the same young man on a horse, being confronted by a wizened old man. The look on the prince's face was of shock and horror. "But one day the prince ventured out into the world, and there he encountered an old man, bent and aged. 'What is this sight?' he exclaimed, and was told that the man would die soon. The prince had never known of death, and the knowledge struck him to his core. But Green Tara showed him the path."
Fragments of ceramic and stone crunched under their feet as they moved deeper into the darkness, the driver's flickering torch the only light. Here the prince was confronted by a man suffering from some kind of disease, a corpse, and an emaciated man. "Everywhere the prince went, he saw only suffering and pain, and his heart knew despair." Bruce felt the darkness around them pressing in on him, dank and suffocating. "Was this the fate of all beings--to wither and die in pointless agony? He cried out in anguish: How can I help them, my people? And Green Tara showed him the way."
The next bas-relief showed the prince sitting under a tree, his legs crossed, his eyes closed. Lavender's voice was almost disembodied, sibilant. "Siddhartha meditated. He asked for guidance, for something he could do to redeem himself and all of humanity." There was a pause. "Will you ask for guidance, Bruce Wayne? Would you redeem yourself, your family, all humanity--whatever the cost?"
That was easy. "Of course."
"Anything?"
"Anything."
"Green Tara will show you the way," said the voice in the darkness, and the circle of lamplight moved on.
The same man underneath the same tree--yet totally different. His eyes were open, an expression of serene bliss on his face. He was holding in his hands an opened lotus flower. "Yes," whispered Bruce. "Yes. That's what I need. Liberation. Enlightenment." He whirled, trying to locate Lavender outside the circle of light. "Guide me there."
Lavender stepped back into the circle, her face grave. "You ask a hard thing, Bruce Wayne."
Impatience cascaded through him. "Show me the way."
Lavender bowed her head. "The shining lotus must come to fruition, must bear seed. It needs sustenance to grow strong enough to do so." She looked up at him again. "It needs the blood of a willing human to nurture it to completion. Only then shall the jewel in the lotus come forth to shine for all the world."
For a shocked moment, Bruce hesitated. The Buddha found the Middle Path, part of him insisted: the Middle Path between hedonistic selfishness and vicious self-mortification. Buddhism required no such blood sacrifices.
But a deeper part of him knew that at some level this was true, that nothing came without sacrifice, that there was no pinnacle without pain. From his annihilation would arise salvation, from his negation the fruition of beauty.
Surely his parents would approve.
"Very well," he said.
Lavender smiled. "One more step, Brucie. Then you'll be freed from the endless burden of karma with your sacrifice." She stepped forward to place a reverent kiss on his brow. "Green Tara awaits you."
The carving of the enlightened Buddha grated and swiveled to reveal a passageway.
Bruce started down it without hesitation.
: : :
Pamela Isley waited, standing behind the altar, surrounded by clouds of sweet-smelling incense. She inhaled deeply, letting the smoke lift her above herself, leaving the scientist behind. She had come to understand there were things more important than science. The drug sang in her veins: the song of her mother the Earth, the only family she needed.
Isley fell away and left Green Tara in her place, avatar of the Goddess, bringer of liberation. Her skin was painted emerald, golden bracelets jangling on her hands and ankles, golden cords in her scarlet hair. Euphoria twined around her like the smoke: the wicked will face justice and their blood will nourish the Earth. Soon the Great Mission would have nearly inexhaustible funds, willed to her by Bruce Wayne himself. His body would never be found. She gripped the knife tighter as the Sacrifice entered the room, lifting her arms so that the flickering lamplight cast a multiplicity of shadows onto the stones behind her.
He stared at her, his handsome face filled with wonder, and his awe exalted her even more. Feel the righteous wrath of the Earth itself, unworthy one, she thought fiercely. Aloud she said, "Approach and be cleansed."
The Sacrifice ascended the steps toward her, though the misty veils of drugged incense. He stopped halfway, shaking his head, and staggered slightly. That was unexpected; he must have deeper reserves of character than she had imagined, to resist at this point. "Bruce Wayne," she intoned. "Your mother the Earth demands this. Your father the Sky demands it. You must redeem your name and through your sacrifice bring forth new life into the light, out of the darkness."
"Into the light, out of the darkness," muttered the Sacrifice. "Out of..." He sighed deeply, as if putting away a burden. "Yes."
He climbed the last few steps to her.